By Lillian Kwok
I pushed him and he fell, his skull breaking on rock & his body swallowed by the river. He was the one who died but we both became ghosts tirelessly haunting each other. I sat in his mother’s garden, told her that it was an accident. We were playing and he fell. And it was almost the truth, only I pushed him and then I followed him into the dark fields.
I saw him live a whole life in the half-light, he married a pretty corpse girl, had a few babies, got greyer and greyer. He even had a little affair with a dark-haired suicide from the mausoleum across town. He looked happy in his little stone house.
I want to think he is. I don’t mean to keep calling him back when he’s having such a good time over there, it’s just I have trouble figuring out who’s calling out to who. Sometimes it seems like it’s both of us standing on opposite sides of the bridge shouting
ghost come back come back.
Originally published by Paper Darts