Girlfriends: Dark Pastry

A Story by Abishai100

Narrated claim of a man who hears voices of his deceased girlfriend, as he negotiates his life-turn for wrought cleats of Earthling-weight.

A ghost-tale of lost love and gained humilities, inspired by a film (and story) I like.

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I was standing in a gas-station restroom looking at my mirror-image Selfie shot and realized I missed Esmerelda dearly, my departed girlfriend from Boston-town, killed in a drunk-driving accident faultless. I missed her, but I was now in love with Shelbye, my new Somerville-lady, and I was busy working on my new novel concept Ghosts of a Dead Love (Facebook-like!).

ESMERELDA: "Got yourself some new white-auto for focus, sweetie?
ME: Are you talking to me, in my car...I can hear you, Ezzy...but you're dead!

ESMERELDA: "That's why you can't see me in your car, you fool (ha)."

ME: You're invisible (Selfie-like!).

ESMERELDA: "Don't faint...drive to Shelbye's house, and I'll depart (Selfie-like)."

ESMERELDA: "How was your visit today, sweetie?"
ME: You're still in my car...invisible!

ESMERELDA: "I'd like you to propose marriage to Shelbye, fool."

ME: If she refuses, you'll get your revenge in the afterlife for my refinding-love?

ESMERELDA: "Either that's the truth...or I just wish to see you happy, hon!"

ME: I'm not negotiating with a specter or hallucination...or invader-ghost (sure!).

ESMERELDA: "Happy football-TV...any given Sunday then, sweetie."

What was I to do now? I write this story down in my journal now, with images from my brain-memories. I find it inconceivable, since I naturally don't believe in ghosts, and as a Catholic, haven't in any life-condition or on social media (damn). I didn't know what to decide...but if the ghost of Ezzy (Esmerelda) was seeking some self-gratification, I'd no choice but to carry-out what was simply a Selfie-dare of self-check humility for improvements in life and stabilizations for Rationalism (Facebook-like!).

I decided to call Shelbye; and then I asked her to marry me (damn). She said yes! It was great. Everything was right. However, I hoped now earnestly (secretly) that I wasn't moved to a wedding through primitive paranoia or a very bad psychiatry-fallout hallucination/delusion. Maybe I simply loved both Esmerelda and Shelbye and found an odd 'miracle' blessing (in disguise) for Selfie-culture (sure).

I thought about this special film I liked, 21 Hours at Munich (Frano Nero), in which the '72 Massacre of an Olympics-assembly created special Earth-transit paranoia storyboards for exchanges in human-relations/customs that generated the 'ghosts' of our Earthling best-intentions IQ (wow). Maybe I decided this story moved in me a special brain-muscle for an eternal humility...social condition yielding bound 'leviathan' (for the Ego!).

ESMERELDA: "Congrats, sweetie love."
ME: Thanx...I was thinking of terrorism and optimism (for Earthlings).

ESMERELDA: "You still doubt your brain, eh?"
ME: Nah...I think I'll find some art-arms for Earthling-cleats (for the Ego).

ESMERELDA: "Cool (mannequin-city!)."

Shelbye and I got married (Martha's Vineyard); and I had two darling children (Damian/Esha); and I got them summer picnic backyard net-and-tennis toys for child's play imagination and sportsmanship-education and Earthling-transcendences. I forgot about Ezzy (Esmerelda) altogether (Selfie-like).