Ghosts are not creatures in white sheets. They are horrors. Rotting bodies, festering flesh, bug-eaten bone. Things that stalk and wail no matter light or night. Things that scream and entrap and whisper and growl into unsuspecting ears. Freaks, I tell you. And now you wonder why I know them so well. Quite honestly, I wish I didn’t. But I had the misfortune of being nearly forced into one. Metaphysical. Neither spirit nor flesh, yet both at once. They’ve no need