September 2024 Short Story of the Month

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Ghosts are real. Not everyone agrees with this, but they are. But what’s not true is that saying, “Ghosts are spirits with unfinished business.”

That is false. Guess how I know? Well, I’m a ghost. And I am stuck in my own personal hell that has absolutely nothing to do with anything from when I was alive. In fact, I’m beginning to think someone cursed me.

So, let’s start with the basics. Like I said, ghosts are real. But there are rules. First rule, only one ghost per building, unless an exception has been granted. If you think your house is haunted, it probably is, but not by who you think would be haunting it. Second rule, a ghost cannot leave the location of haunting. Ever. Once you get assigned to a location, you’re stuck there – forever and ever and ever.

Which brings me to how I know being a ghost has nothing to do with unfinished business. I’m a ghost, and the location that I get to haunt is a coffee shack. Not a shop, not a Starbucks, one of those places that are basically a shed with a drive-up window cut in the side. And it’s the worst coffee shack to ever have existed. It gets maybe three customers a day. Seriously. I wish I was making this up. It’s the most boring, smallest, and most pointless place to haunt in the world. Oh, and did I mention I’m stuck here.

I exist in a five foot by five foot shed for all of eternity. And the icing on the cake – I hate coffee.

When I was alive, I tried it twice. Once when I was in college because it was supposed to help me stay awake to study. I took one sip and spit it across the table all over my study notes. And then I bravely tried it once more in my forties. Hated it. I hate the smell and everything about it. And here I am stuck in my own personal coffee hell for eternity.

And it’s not even in the town I live in. I’m in a coffee shed in some tiny town in Northern Washington. Do you know how many coffee places there are in Washington state? SOOOOOOO MANY! And yet, here I am in the absolute worst one.

There is one employee right now. His name is Dave. He is in his forties, and he runs the shop every day from 6 am till 3 pm. And the rest of the time I’m alone. There isn’t even anyone to haunt. Which leads me to the conclusion that someone must have cursed me. No matter what I did to anyone in my life, I don’t deserve this.

You don’t believe me? Well, let’s dial it back a notch. Let’s look at what happened right before I arrived here. See, the other thing about being a ghost that no one warns you about is that as a ghost, you can only remember the last twenty-four hours you were alive. You don’t remember any other details of your life.

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My Last Day – three years ago now. (Yep, that’s right. I’ve been haunting a coffee shed for three years. I used to occasionally spill things or make the wiring go crazy, but that gets really boring after like the third time you do it.)

I couldn’t sleep. I had a big presentation at work in only a few hours. It was already past four in the morning. I finally admitted that sleep wasn’t going to happen. I got out of bed and drank a soda. I might have added whiskey to it, but I can’t recall if I did or not that night. Let’s just say that most mornings, I added whiskey to my drinks. Probably not the best way to start my day.

I went to my home office, logged onto my computer, and reviewed my notes for the presentation. I used to work for a candy company. I loved my job. I was good at it. My job was to convince business to put our products in their stores. It was candy. There were very few products easier to sell than candy. (In case you’re wondering why all those band fundraisers are so successful. Candy basically sells itself.)

The tricky part of my job was convincing our clients to carry our NEW products and not just the same old tried and true sellers. Our newest products were struggling. Mostly because they weren’t great. The products themselves hadn’t tested well in our market research, but we were still trying to launch them onto the public anyway. Most of the new items we were marketing were sugar-free, gluten-free, or vegan, and some were combinations of those areas.

The tricky part about selling sugar-free candy is that candy IS sugar. So, I was trying to convince people that the product they loved (sugar) was just as good when it didn’t have that product in it. It would be like trying to convince someone that football would be a great sport to watch if they played without the actual football. I know what you’re thinking. It’s not the same, there are sugar substitutes. But that’s actually the point I’m making. The substitutes aren’t the same because they aren’t sugar. Are some of them okay? Sure, but not as good as the real deal.

But I couldn’t say that at work. I had to say those substitutes were just as good. And say it like I meant it.

If you’re thinking it sounds like my job was just to lie through my teeth, you’d be pretty close to main part of my job. It wasn’t called lying though. I was spinning the truth and creating a narrative.

As I sat there, reviewing the details of that presentation, I kept adding whiskey to my soda. At some point, there wasn’t any soda in the cup. I was just drinking whiskey.

Somehow, despite my best efforts to get so drunk that I would fall asleep, I didn’t. I took a shower, got dressed, and got in the car, ready for work. You might be thinking, how?

The mind is a strange thing. Despite the fact that my mind was intoxicated, it still told me to get my butt to work. Did I get in a car accident, no. I made it and parked in my spot.

I made my way through the lobby and was heading to the elevator when I spotted my boss waiting. I veered and headed for the stairs instead. As I was making my way up the stairwell, my phone rang. It was the office. I wasn’t late. I couldn’t imagine why they were calling me.

“What?” I growled into the phone. I stopped on the next landing.

“Are you almost here?” The voice on the phone asked. It was Ned, my faithful, yet panicky assistant.

“I’m literally on the stairs. What is so important right now?”

“The boss wants to change the presentation. He isn’t happy. Didn’t you see my text this morning?” His voice kept rising in pitch the more he spoke.

“No, I didn’t see it. What is the problem with the presentation?”

“He wants us to present it without spinning the truth.”

Ugh, I thought. I hated it when the boss thought that telling the truth was a better policy than telling the clients what they wanted to hear or giving them some complete bull to sell food that really wasn’t that great.

“It’s kind of late in the game to change the presentation,” I said. “Don’t we present in like an hour?”

“Yes, he wants the changes now,” Ned whispered.

“Okay. I’m here. On my way, don’t panic,” I said. I hung up and started running as fast as I could up the stairs. I estimated my ability to run up stairs at my age and under the influence of alcohol.

And that’s the last thing I remember. I must have ended up in the hospital, but I didn’t regain consciousness for the rest of my last day.

The next thing I knew, I was haunting a coffee shop. You see, right? I didn’t do anything. I was just a regular guy trying to live my life.