Shuffled Off: A Ghost's Memoir, Book 1

ISBN-13: 9780964209626 / Angielski / Miękka / 2011 / 316 str.

Robert J. McCarter

Opis

FROM THE BACK COVER:
When someone dies, the world doesn't stop. It seems like it should, but it doesn't. It would be useful if it did stop. You know, take a moment, get your bearings, and deal with practical and emotional details that engulf a death. But no, no stopping, no break, you just gotta continue your drunkard's walk down the path of life. When I died, the world didn't stop, not a bit. I wasn't expecting it to, but it would've been nice, you know? My death thrust me into this new world that I didn't understand. I found myself grappling with the life I left behind and what I had left undone, while at the same time trying to come to grips with this new afterlife. I was a murderous poltergeist for a while, and then a guardian angel. I have struggled to reach my loved ones and fought to keep them safe. I've seen Hamlet performed in a graveyard by a pack of ghosts, had some amazing adventures, and even survived the bardo. It's not easy... life is complicated, even when it's an afterlife. But it's still worth living, even though I'm "dead." My name is JJ. I'm a ghost. This is my story. EXCERPT FROM SUFFLED OFF:
The morgue was next, a cold sterile room where my body was shoved into a drawer. There were three others there with me. I guess you would call them ghosts, but I was still having a hard time with that. All three were wispy floating forms with silver cords leading to a drawer. Two were completely out of it, looking gape jawed and stupid, just wandering around. The third's name was Jesus. "Hey fresh meat, what happened to you?" he asked. I would have jumped out of my skin, if I had skin. I don't know why, but I just wasn't expecting that. "Huh?" I mumbled. "Oh man, not another bardo-brain," he said. "What?" "What a waste of space. Can't you bring me someone to talk to?" He looked up as he said this. "Are you talking to me?" "Praise be to Guadalupe Yeah man, I'm talking to you." With a big smile on his face he added, "My name is Hey-zeus." "Hey-zeus, you mean as in Gee-zus?" "Difference in pronunciation. If you would be so kind, please call me Hey-zeus. Although I am a mighty handsome guy, I don't want to be confused with the big fellow." He pointed up. I am not sure if he was handsome or not: his dancing eyes were brown; his face was plain and kind looking; and he had a big full mustache wiggling above his smile. "Oh yeah, sure. My name is JJ." I would have extended my hand, but it wasn't quite like that. I had a sense of form, but it wasn't steady, especially regarding limbs. Jesus's face was clear, but the rest of his body came in and out of... hmmm... focus I guess, depending on what he was doing. I suppose it was the same for mine. Turns out Jesus had been there a while. He was an illegal and as such his body had not been claimed yet. Jesus was a bounty hunter that had snuck across the border chasing a murderer. He wasn't like a normal bounty hunter, at least not what I thought normal bounty hunters did; he also tried to "show them the light of the divine Mother Mary" before he turned them in. Next came, what I have come to know is, a standard ritual among the dead. "So, how'd you die?" Jesus asked. "Pinned to the jungle gym at a Mickey D's by a car full of ripped college kids." "Nice Wow." He seemed to be impressed. "How did you die?" I asked. It only seemed polite to reciprocate. "Ice pick to my left eye," he answered pointing to it. "I had the perp caught and cuffed, not sure how he came up with the pick." There was a period of awkward silence for a while after that. I mean, what do you say? So sorry we're both dead; what the hell do we do now? This is a full-length novel (approximately 62,000 words). You can find out more about it at www.Shuff