You were never one for the old stories, never the intended audience, never got the messages and no damned dead relative stubbornly sticking around your apartment would change that. No amount of animal carcasses hidden under the sofa or warped faces peering from the other side of your mirror would make you move out or cleanse their grave or whatever it is that they wanted.
You weren't really paying much attention at this point.
At first it was a bit exciting - you didn't know what they'd do next or just how big their kills would get until it soon became clear that they were just another memory loop trying to act like a full person. It didn't take long before dealing with the-poltergeist-formerly-known-as-cousin-Jake became a daily scavenger hunt for dead animals stuffed in furniture and scrubbing away the messages written in their blood.
It was like having a large cat about the place except the cat could write and had no redeeming cuteness.
Some days you really wished you'd paid more attention when Father O'Lochlann taught the Sunday school classes on protection from the restless dead and how to guide them back towards the afterlife or God or whatever he used to say. In your defence you were nine and more interested in bugs.
Nine year old you would have loved all the shiny beetles that dead-cousin-Jake left in the fridge.
Present you was less enthused about the whole situation but there were worse roommates around. At least dead-cousin-Jake never brings anyone else back and hopefully he can't. Sure he makes a mess but he doesn't raise your bills beyond a few extra bottles of antibacterial spray every month.
All-in-all the restless son-of-a-so-and-so wasn't a total disaster, just another undead nuisance.
You weren't really paying much attention at this point.
At first it was a bit exciting - you didn't know what they'd do next or just how big their kills would get until it soon became clear that they were just another memory loop trying to act like a full person. It didn't take long before dealing with the-poltergeist-formerly-known-as-cousin-Jake became a daily scavenger hunt for dead animals stuffed in furniture and scrubbing away the messages written in their blood.
It was like having a large cat about the place except the cat could write and had no redeeming cuteness.
Some days you really wished you'd paid more attention when Father O'Lochlann taught the Sunday school classes on protection from the restless dead and how to guide them back towards the afterlife or God or whatever he used to say. In your defence you were nine and more interested in bugs.
Nine year old you would have loved all the shiny beetles that dead-cousin-Jake left in the fridge.
Present you was less enthused about the whole situation but there were worse roommates around. At least dead-cousin-Jake never brings anyone else back and hopefully he can't. Sure he makes a mess but he doesn't raise your bills beyond a few extra bottles of antibacterial spray every month.
All-in-all the restless son-of-a-so-and-so wasn't a total disaster, just another undead nuisance.
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