The Geography of Ghosts
Washing twenty years of smoke and water from my hair before the wreckage followed me home.
The universe operates on a system of brutal efficiency. For twenty years, a memory stayed suspended in midair, a quiet "what-if" anchored between Maine and Wisconsin, waiting for the reality to catch up to the myth. We build altars out of old smoke and water, convinced that time preserves things exactly as we left them.
But the universe doesn’t let you live in a ghost story forever.
When the truth came, it didn't whisper; it shattered the glass. It showed me the pattern—the careless wake left behind, the cycle of jumping from one wreck to the next, even staying within the same family lines just to feed an insatiable hunger. Every instinct, every red flag I called out was validated in a single, unhinged moment of clarity.
The fantasy was a beautiful piece of fiction, but the author has officially revoked the license. The words are going behind a paywall. The energy is being called home. The universe proved exactly what it needed to: some people are meant to stay in the past, and some doors are meant to be locked from the outside.
About the Creator
Syl De'Vil
Air Force SF veteran, mother, witch, Bone collector, gremlin. skip tracer, I throw knives, and write about life and love and the lack there of all stitched from insomnia. I am just a girl, looking in the void, trying to fit in where I don't
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