#ghoststory

Once upon a time, back to when I was young. I played and laughed with the shadows of my room. A fall night, she came. late into the night, in her violet dress and veil; she spoked softly to me. "Little one, why still wide wake?" she asked. I didn't reply, I didn't speak. I stared at her.

I've been a bartender for 6 years. I cover the bar and take drink-orders from the wait-staff. Last week, one of the waitresses, Leslie, set an order-slip on the bar. It said: "Table 11 -- Angel Shot" My eyes grew wide. I'm pretty sure you know why, but I'll explain it anyway: Ordering an "Angel Shot" is bar-code for "I'm in trouble -- help me!" It's a way for a vulnerable woman to surreptitiously call for help. All bartenders know this.

My cousin told me it happened in a very small village in Mexico, the one our grandfather grew up in. Late one night, a young man was leaving a friend's home. Despite the late hour, he insisted that he could walk home. After all, his own abode was only a mile away. Stepping out into the quiet streets, he started his journey. Breathing in the humid summer air, listening to the buzz of the street lamps mixed with the crickets and his own footsteps on the gravel ground.

I am Joshua L. Greene. And I am responsible for the fire that destroyed Briarwood Winery on October 19th. My reasoning for doing so will be explained in this confession. On the night of October 19th, I stayed at work late to help clean up after the tasting event. We had brought extra glasses up from storage in the cellar, and I was helping clean them so they could be returned to the dusty boxes they called home. My coworker, Sam, was rushing the dishes, leaving remnants of lipstick on the rims.

When I was a kid I used to play down by the creek that was behind my house. I'd throw rocks, play with plastic army men, make little houses out of mud and sticks having them sink into the creek. On a particular hot day in July when I was about nine I was sitting by the edge of the creek. I had my feet in the water trying to cool down as the day was unbearably humid. I had my eyes closed and didn't hear her walk up. "Hello" I heard an older voice say. I open my eyes and see a thin middle aged…

I can honestly say this has been the hottest summer I have ever experienced. Not just in Pittsburgh, where I live, but throughout the entire country. Sweltering heat to the point where even the most avid outdoor enthusiasts such as myself have either had to shelter inside the comfort of an air conditioned home or find times to get outside when one wouldn’t expect to literally melt. A couple of nights ago, against my better judgment I decided to go for an evening run in the heat.

I have to write about this here because if I tell anyone in my life they will not believe me. I need to purge myself of these memories, I must share them with you.