Style No. 43: Ghostly

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I never asked for any of this. I was simply minding my own business, out for a walk. There was a great crush of people agitating down the road, and I thought I’d have a look. But nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw in the end.

At first I felt a rush of wind. A cool air blowing down my back. The weather was sticky-hot, so it shocked me. I turned around, but there was nothing, no one. So I turned back. Then it happened again.

This time, I spun quickly and caught a glimpse of something strange. A shimmering light, an orange heat wave. And a sound — a haunting noise, difficult to place. Like a vacant, low whistling.

My first impression was that the play of bending light looked like two boys arm in arm. But I didn’t have time to double-check because someone crashed into me, and I flew face-first to the pavement. When I turned up my bloodied nose to see who’d knocked me down, there was no one. Only that chill wind again.

Gripped with fear of unknown spirits bent on tormenting me, I sprung to my feet and ran. But I didn’t get ten feet before smacking into an old woman with a strange object tucked beneath her headshawl. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I stammered, glancing left and right to see who’d witnessed this embarrassing spectacle. Luckily, there was no one. Just a solitary man looking knowingly the other way.

After the ghostly incident I was in need of repose and took crosslegged to a beachside log. (Kerala, India, 2011).

After the ghostly incident I was in need of repose and took crosslegged to a beachside log. (Kerala, India, 2011).

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