Diary of a Dead Man (Re-Write) 2

2. On the Subject of Being Dead

     Brian was 21 years dead, still the spitting image of his late twenties (aside from the road rash, but I’ll get to that in a minute), and sported unkempt, black hair that hung just above his eyes. When he stepped out of that lecture hall he felt despair. One of the last hopes for the field of paranormal science had fallen, and likely would soon join the ranks of the recently deceased (halting careers have a tendency to do that to people). Unfortunately for Dr. Coulton, the scientific witch hunt that would ensue, followed him for the rest of his short life.  

     Tiny white lights popped into existence around Brian as he faded from the lecture hall. They were the souls of those who had recently passed on being ferried through the cosmic goop that bound the two worlds together. Ordinarily Brian wouldn’t have bothered with the trip (something about the goo made him uncomfortable), but it was far faster when traveling long distances. It was only a matter of minutes from the time he left the lecture hall in New Hampshire, to when he popped out into the dingy interior of one of the oldest hotels in New Orleans. 

     The Hotel Chambroux was built in the late 1800s to accommodate a sudden population boom, but hadn’t really changed with the times. Its hallways were filled with an unsettling musty smell, peeling yellow paint, and more spirits than could be counted in a lifetime. Most of the hotel’s visitors came for the sordid history and a chance at seeing some ghosts from the era of its inception. For the most part this endeavor was futile, as most of the older ghosts and gone and moved on. Limbo can entertain the dead for a while, but sooner or later everyone has to leave.

     Brian let out a heavy sigh (more of a ghostly wisp, but it’s going through the motions that counts). With death came an awful amount of sadness. The only way to keep it at bay was to engage in a constant stream of distractions. The lecture had ended, and there was still five hours before Brian’s next shift. For that time it was just him and his thoughts. The poor boy had been sandwiched between a semi-truck and a telephone pole, and had always had a hard time moving on from it.  

In a fortuitous turn of events, four months earlier a psychologist had taken his own life in one of the hotel bathtubs, and took up residence in the crawlspace between the twelfth and fourteenth floors (superstition leaves a lot of open real-estate for the deceased). Brian had only visited twice, but as a result had started journaling. It was depressing drivel for the most part, but it seemed to make things a little less miserable. In fact, the thought of writing a few more lines of meaningless bullshit on that ethereal paper was the only thing propelling Brian forward.

He shivered as he passed through a business man and what had to be a cheap hooker. The world of the living and the world of the dead exist almost in parallel. There are some small differences to be sure, but for the most part they are identical. As a member of the deceased Brian was able to see both of these worlds at once, which led to a rather comical ballet of the dead and the living passing right through each other as they went about their daily business.

The crap that the History Channel spouts about chills being associated with the dead couldn’t be farther from the truth. If it were true the Hotel Chambroux would have more closely resembled an ice box, instead of the less-than-desirable temporary accommodation it was. As a general rule, the dead never outnumber the living, but certain spaces are more heavily populated than others. The top three locations for the dead to inhabit are Cemeteries, Old Hotels, and places of religious worship. Beliefs about life-after death keep the morbid image and mythos of death alive, meaning more space for lost souls.

Brian had dedicated his afterlife to keeping that image alive. Most of the recently deceased are met with two options if they wish to keep on existing: 1. strike out on their own and try to haunt one person (always a gamble), or join up with a large group (like a hotel) and work as a team. Most opted for the second option, but a few notable ghosts have made it on the first (looking at you Bloody Mary).

New Orleans was the perfect town for Brian to land in. It had one of the highest beliefs in voodoo in the United States, cemeteries on every corner, and enough ghost stories to maintain millions of the recently deceased. This highly susceptible population is what allowed Brian to stick around and sulk in the unfinished business that he thought was so important. He used to say he stayed to try and sort out the whirlwind of emotion that had come on the heels of his death, but mostly he just liked to scare the shit out of people…