The Diary of a Boring Ghost

The Diary of a Boring Ghost

by

P. J. Quirindongo

October 1, 2026

Dear diary,

It’s that time of the year again, the famous spooky month. The only spooky thing about this month is how quickly time flies. What am I planning to do today, you ask? Not much; I mean, there’s nothing else to do when you are a ghost stuck for eternity in this boring neighborhood. The damp atmosphere is bland. The scent of mold and wetness is unpleasant as always. The screech of bats and rats is irritating as ever. The climate is more depressing than Forks. Ugh! I’m telling ya! This suburb is so uninteresting that if ghosts were capable of dying, I would have died a thousand times.

I miss the warfare! The swords! The chaos!... I miss being alive even if I end up complaining about dying from the common cold. I cannot believe that. One sneeze and poof! You are stuck forever in the house you died. Why? No idea. Such is life. Guess I’ll spend the day roaming around these halls like I have done for the last 300 years for the millionth time. See ya.

October 5, 2026

Dear diary,

Today I thought my day would have been unchanging as always, but I stand corrected. The annoying man who never listens to my complaints about not entering my castle with his dirty shoes has once again desecrated my house. And this time…he was not alone. The horror!

I was pleasantly roaming the halls when the door opened and in they came. The invader whom they call a realtor along with a black-haired woman, a bald man with a mustache, their fashionable teen goth, and their black cat. Despite my reservations, I could not help but feel interested. I mean, don’t blame me. It’s been a long, long while since someone lived here, and I could use some company. I made sure to be in my best behavior before gliding to the end of the stairs. I wanted to welcome my new guests. It was silly because humans can’t see me… or so I thought. I guess my years of solitude fried my non-existent brain, which made me forget about people with special abilities. The teen can see me. How do I know… well, she is the first one that sees me.

It starts as a subtle stroll around the living room, yet she keeps her eyes on me. I stop breathing, if that were possible, waiting to see whether she tolerates my presence or not.

“Finally, something exciting, Salem,” the teen says while stroking the back cat whom I presume is Salem.

Oh my gosh! She approves my presence. The couple talk with the realtor, unaware of my presence or that their teen and their cat huddles in one particular corner of the house. They leave after a while.

I hope they return.

October 10, 2026

Dear diary,

They are back! And this time they brought furniture, which means a permanent settlement. I have let my presence known to the teen, and what an interesting child. She knows astrology, communes with the dead, reads tarot, and loves history. I see a new bestie on the way!

The family spends the whole day rearranging their house. Lots of noise, but a welcome one. After 300 years, I’m tired of hearing my own laments in these dreary halls I roam. I could use some excitement in my undead life! After everyone settles, the couple leaves to search for food while the teen stays. Once the house is devoid of adults, she reaches for a teacup, fills it with the most delicious uisge Beatha, or the water of life known as Scotch Whisky, and offers it to me. She then took a notebook and a pen.

“So, tell me your story,” she says.

I almost fainted. A chance to share my knowledge of the world beyond with this future seer is one opportunity I could not miss. I narrated to her my life as Lord of Clan Skye. How my interesting life came to an end with a silly sneeze and my pain at no longer being able to play the bagpipes.

She writes everything down. Sometimes she would ask me questions about certain events. Then it was the teen’s turn. I learn that her name is Freya. A mighty name! And she doesn’t have many friends because people think of her as weird. She also likes making portraits of the dead. She asks for permission to draw me.

I said yes. It’s been a while since I saw my own reflection. I miss seeing my beautiful face. The teen’s parents returned and called her for dinner, cutting our conversation short. She asked me to wait for her because she still has a lot to ask, and I have all the time in the world to answer them.

October 26, 2026

Dear diary,

These past three weeks have been the most exciting of my boring undead life. Freya kept her promise and made a portrait of me. A handsome, reddish-bearded Scottish man with his beautiful kilt, playing the bagpipes with pride. The portrait is exquisite! I forgot how handsome I look. Freya did justice to my appearance, realistic, accurate, and perfect. If ghosts could shed tears of joy, I would have shed a thousand. I no longer feel invisible, unseen. Now I feel real and…alive. Freya proudly hangs my portrait in the hall. Her parents thinks is another depiction of her admiration for the olden times of Scotland the Great. The teen and I simply share a knowing smile.

I swore in that moment that I would spend the rest of eternity protecting this precious child.

October 31, 2026

Dear diary,

The day has come! The night when all the spooky creatures manifest at their peak… or so the superstition says. Indeed, this day is when I have more strength. Freya and I plan to do a séance, where she would communicate with the ghost haunting this house, me. I agree and share with her some ideas of how to make this evening more interesting. She is having friends over, and I’m excited to help her make an impression. We spend the evening getting everything ready, from the artifacts to use in the event to my expected tasks. I could feel my impish side awakening. Finally, I would become a real ghost.

Around seven, Freya’s friends came. All wearing hoods and dressed in black, carrying goblets, tarot cards, and quartz. Typical teenager stuff, but suitable for the day. Freya wanted to bring a Ouija board, but I put my foot down and explained to her the dangers of contacting other beings. The last thing we needed was having an unwanted guest. She agreed.

They meet in the living room. Freya’s parents left for the night to do their own Halloween activity. The only warning: not to summon any demon. Everything is set, and every candle lit. Freya sits in the middle of the circle while surrounded by her friends.

“Lord of Skye, are you here with us?” she asks.

My day has finally come! I begin knocking on the door next to the living room, causing them to scream in terror. One even fainted. Freya hides her snickers with the sleeve of her coat. The séance is a success. The rest of the night consists of movies, stories, tarot readings, and making predictions for the next full moon. When it’s time to leave, they leave me a big bottle of Scotch whisky as a thank you while wishing to hear from me again next Halloween.

I too hope for next Halloween as well because for the first time in 300 years, my life is no longer boring.