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Writer's pictureNik Fateen

Married to a Ghost


Living with a ghost is one thing. Living with the ghost of your dead partner is a different thing. And the husband doesn't know how much longer he can take it.


"Where did you get that?" He asks as he stares at the figure standing in front of him. Not quite his partner but not quite someone else either. A bitter cud sits in his throat.


She is wearing a black veil, empty white eyes staring back at him with a slight tilt in her head. He hates how much the ghost acts like her. And he hates it even more to realise how much he misses her heterochromatic red and green eyes. Sometimes they might glow purple when her eldritch past calls for her, but they have never been white nor lacking pupils and irises.


He doesn't know how to look straight into white eyes and pretend that he is fine. So he simply doesn't try. In their next lives, he would love to look into the kindest eyes he ever had the fortune of knowing. But not today.


Because today, the ghost’s entire face is covered by a thin black veil and the husband regrets to admit that he recognises the lace pattern adorning the trim especially, because he remembers requesting tulips to be embroidered into the fabric. Pink tulips, to be specific.


But now they're midnight black.


"I ask again, where did you get that veil?"


"Oh, this thing?" The ghost starts with humour in her voice. But her partner doesn't feel like laughing. "I found it in your closet actually."


Despite lacking pupils, the ghost can see that he is seething. Through gritted teeth and clenched fists, he says, "The veil was white when I ordered it. It was white when I received it. It was white when I put it in my closet. So why in hell is it black now?"


"Look. I thought the black would look nicer 'cause of, y'know, me being dead and all. So I dyed it." The slight chuckle in her voice sounds like sharp claws on a chalkboard.


If the husband is crying, he won’t be able to tell because his vision has turned red. If he is crying, it's hard to tell if the ghost cares.


"I bought it for our wedding. Not your goddamn funeral."


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