cherry

Last thursday when I was visiting my local comic book store to purchase the recent issue of Rex Mundi, it turned out to be free comic book day. What luck! I received a hulk figure and a comic book full of shorts. But I only managed to sit down and read the free comic book today.

And I think I fell in love...

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I don't know just when I died.
I'm sure the event was all very uneventful, but I like to imagine I took a shitload of people down with me,
Down or up...
Whichever, if ever.
Not that it matters though, since being dead hasn't had any real effect on my life.
Keeping the habits I kept, and keep still, I hardly had any contact with the living anyhow
even when, technically, I was one of them.
The only noise here is my own. Draw all day and take a break long after it's gotten dark out, or rather darker as I've never seen a sun in this place. Just stars.
Crazy stars with no order that change each night.
I love it,
Now and then a star falls and I know no one else is seeing it. Just me.
There's something pretty in that. Lonely, sure, but this isn't a place for people who see that as a terrible thing.
It's strange that I don't talk to myself more, but I spoke too much anyhow.
Never leaving room for the pictures.
I drive a lot still. I think better when I'm moving. I see houses, all lined up. Some have lights that go on or off as I pass by.
Stopped investigating those a long time ago.
Always the same, of course.
Nobody home.
I never enter. From the outside looking in. That's the charm. To wonder.
To peer through the dirty glass of other lives, but never to enter.
Sometimes, if I'm very still
I can hear voices.
Sounds.
Like I never really left the world and simply grew dim within it.
Distant voices from places I could never reach.
And it was never any different.
I always did this.
Always moved through quietly while the world slept...
Knowing that I could never touch to wake them.
I imagine most people feel they lose so much when they die. Me? I've lost nothing
And gained a world with no ill fit.

And it's mine.

It always has been.

Because I was a ghost to begin with.

The Ghost with Black Fingers
by
Jhonen Vasquez

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Reading this comic short was like seeing the supposed death light itself.


:cherry:

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