For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Wendryn challenged me with “‘All our kids are screaming but the ghosts aren’t real’ U2, Get On your Boots” and I challenged Dara with “‘That’s what livin’ in the city does, man. Stick your song in your throat.’ — George Carlin”
On Second Thought, Call an Exorcist
We’ve called the specialists — psychics and hunters. They’ve brought crystals, Geiger counters, incense, cameras. All they find is a dead zone. Normal electronic activity. Fine china still on display. Television working just fine.
What does a soul weigh? Is the total more or less than bones, muscle, lungs, skin? Can the tensile strength of tendons support two of them?
We’ve been hunting in all the wrong places. We’ve searched the cold rooms and rough corners, but perhaps ghosts seek warmer homes. Perhaps the heart can stretch to hold another life. Perhaps the brain could make an excellent backup facility.
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I actually don’t like U2 at all, and as a result I’m not familiar with this lyric. I resisted the temptation to obtain and listen to the entire song, and instead chose to work with it out of context. I thought about hauntings, and what it might mean if the ghosts were real. This was definitely a fun one.