The sun, brilliant over the beach and shore of my vacation, did nothing to light my spirits. For I was haunted. Not figuratively- literally. By a ghost. It was a nasty spectre, always shaking and flailing about, screaming and shivering at me relentlessly. After going for a jog, the knowledge finally hit me, and I felt like a baby. This ghost was not purposefully haunting me, or trying to scare me away. It had nothing but the best of intentions towards me, though it could not express them. It just had Tourette’s Syndrome. I thought to myself, “I must write this down, or else I’ll be lost forever!” but my search for a writing implement on a cruise ship was damn near impossible. It must have been a long jog? The shade had turned sad, and it was slowly floating away from the ship, where I was now held prisoner by my own arms. No matter how hard I tried, I could not free my grasp of the railing. I was too strong for myself, a very frustrating feeling, considering there was no imaginable way to triumph. The more I tried to overpower myself, the stronger I got, and this vicious circle was all thanks to my inflicted ghost-friend.

THE END