I spoke to a ghost last night. He woke me from my sleep.
You'd think ghosts would have better manners than to wake a man from his night terrors. No, he just stood there at the foot of my bed. Wearing that sadistically cheesy smile like a cut-rate actor on day time television. Maybe he was hungry for my soul? Perhaps a prankster trying to get a cheap laugh? Could it be he was just lonely and misunderstood? I don't know what the hell he wanted, and honestly didn't care.
My precious three hours of sleep had been disrupted.
I stared at him a bit longer, trying to figure out what to say. Chucking a pillow, I told him to "stop letting all the **** spiders in" and turned to go back to sleep. I'm pretty sure he's picked someone new to haunt by now.