Between You and I (conversation with a ghost)

Between you and I (conversation with a ghost)

Between you and me, there is a void. A semi-transparent black veil. It is a lace-like curtain draped between your world and mine. The maddening aspect of this curtain is that, from your side, you can only discover its existence once you cross over to where I now stand.

Here, it is dark. Any light that shimmers through the void from your world reflects with a dull grey-blue sheen. It is a sullen, yet strangely safe place. The only sounds we hear are muffled echoes from the living world and a constant, deep drone emanating from the bowels of the black chasm below.

My place of residence is merely one of countless dark alcoves carved into a vast stone wall that stretches endlessly in every direction, upward into the darkness above and downward into the abyss beneath. The great wall surrounds your world entirely, wrapping around it in a slow, timeless arc. Each alcove contains a single soul, just like mine. I am dead. I passed away more than one hundred and fifty years ago.

My alcove is where I have remained all this time, silently watching. This place, this hollow shell of a world that I inhabit, is where we all pass when we die. This is Limbo. Some, like me, remain here vigilantly waiting and watching within a kind of amphitheatre of immeasurable size, forever observing the living. The great veil before us hangs only a short distance away. I can see it clearly until it disappears into the darkness above and below. It appears close enough to touch and, at times, when the icy winds blow, it shimmers with blue light and billows outward as though it were the lung of some vast sleeping creature drawing breath.

When this occurs, we are able to reach through it and briefly interact with the living world. Such interactions are limited, usually manifesting as whispers, cool breezes, or fleeting shadows. These billowing waves do not occur often, but when they do, they create great excitement among us, for they are the only moments in which we can experience even the faintest sensation from the world of the living. The feeling is sublime.

Most souls use these moments to reconnect with their descendants. For many, however, those loved ones are long gone, and the homes and places to which their spirits remain tethered are now occupied by strangers. Such souls become resentful, their brief moments of pleasure quickly turning to anguish. In desperation, they hurl themselves from their alcoves, through the veil, and back into the living world.

Once they cross back over, they become trapped. They can never return here again.

Those imprisoned souls are left to wander in torment and unending pain, forever denied ascension to whatever realm lies beyond this one. In your world, this terrible state of entrapment is commonly known as haunting. I have always believed the movement of the veil to be a temptation, a force that tests our resolve, luring us away from our watch and into its trap. We must remain diligent in our task.

So why am I here now, and why am I sharing this secret knowledge with you?

Let me assure you: this is not a dream. My internment here among the great wall of alcoves, the watching souls, and the veil itself, all of it is real and exists for a reason. During our time here, we are tasked with observing our family line, becoming custodians of those who continue to live.

I am speaking to you this evening because I am, in fact, your most distant ancestor still residing in Limbo.

After one hundred and fifty years standing sentry, our souls are moved onward to another realm. I do not know what lies beyond, but I confess I am grateful to finally depart. The reason for my visit tonight is to install a new sentry within our family alcove, someone who will stand watch over our bloodline for the next one hundred and fifty years. I am the bearer of this secret wisdom. And, regrettably, I am also the bearer of your soul.

Earlier this evening, your life in the living world came to an end. While you slept, your breathing failed you, and I am saddened to tell you that you died peacefully in your bed.

I understand your shock and disbelief. I, too, protested when I was first informed of my own death following a carriage accident so many years ago. I screamed in denial and refused to believe it.

But the truth is both absolute and unavoidable. You are now dead.

I am here to assist you through your transition into this new role. Think of me as your guide, helping you, as the living say, to “pass away.” I am here to guide you across the black veil and into Limbo itself, where you shall take up residence within my alcove and continue the watch long after I am gone. In exchange for my services, I shall finally pass into the great unknown.

So, take my hand, dear ancestor, for it is now my time to rest.