Short Story: In-Between

A recently deceased man is harassed by ghostly political campaigners whilst attempting to haunt his family

Photo by Jonny Gios on Unsplash

I didn’t expect to be harassed by a ghost campaigning for political office, but that’s exactly what happened the moment I died.

The peculiar incident occurred as I rested near the summit of Helvellyn, in the Lake District. Having clambered along the rocky ridge of Striding Edge on a crisp, clear May morning, I’d taken a short rest among the crags, cradling a cup of tea from my thermos to warm my hands amid the bitter winds. A sharp pain in my chest caused me to drop the tea, and I promptly stood to try and clean the stains from my trousers and walking boots. Unfortunately, I left my body behind in the process. Perhaps I had a heart attack. I’m not sure. However, before I could investigate further, I heard a voice to my left.

‘Vote for Neil Major as your regional representative in the GGC. Neil Major believes in rights for all, across the spectral community, irrespective of age, class, race, gender, sexual preference, religious affiliation, or prior status in the physical realm.’

I turned to locate the source of this baffling speech and beheld a thin, beady-eyed man who looked no older than his late twenties. I’m not sure how I knew he was a ghost. He wasn’t transparent, monochromatic, floating, glowing, or any of the other visual cliches seen in films. Yet something in his posture gave the game away. He looked taller than he should be. Slightly stretched.

‘Am I dead?’

The question fell from my lips, but I already knew the answer. My ghostly companion rolled his eyes.

‘Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here canvassing for your vote.’

‘My vote?’

‘Neil Major isn’t just my name. It’s a brand. Neil Major is synonymous with equality. When I represent you at the GGC…’

‘What’s the GGC?’

‘Global Ghost Council. The governing body of all spectres presently on the Earth.’

‘Ghosts have a governing body?’

‘Of course. Some of us call it the shadow government. Actually, dead conspiracy theorists call it the shadow-shadow government. We convene regularly in the UN building in New York, but only at night, when everyone’s gone home. Trying to conduct orderly government business when the living are present gets hugely confusing. We have one advantage though: After death, everyone understands one another, so there’s no need for translators.’

I gaped at Neil Major.

‘Anyway, the Global Ghost Council is in urgent need of reform. Many of the representatives have been in the post for centuries and are corrupt. The swamp needs to be drained. People need to educate themselves, and not be complacent with a vote for someone who thinks they’re in a safe seat and can do the bare minimum. That’s why Neil Major needs your vote. As a member of the Dead to Rights political party, Neil Major will make sure your voice is heard.’

‘Why do you keep referring to yourself in the third person?’

‘Force of habit, I suppose. Now can Neil Major count on your vote?’

I stared at my companion, still somewhat bemused at how quickly I entered this odd conversation, rather than pausing to consider the fact that I was dead. My main concerns were for my wife, my children, and the implications of my death for them. Yet despite this, I kept making polite small talk with Neil Major.