Being a ghost sucks and this mutt has no respect for the dead. Look at her, tossing me about like a wet noodle.
I didn’t have much meat on my bones before I went down for the old hibernation nap, so you can imagine I was a right scrawny thing when I woke up. My tummy was growling so loud I didn’t even hear the hawk’s wings. There I was, just minding my own business, enjoying the first rays of spring sunshine after my long winter nap, and before I got so much as a nut down my gullet, down death comes and nabs me.
Then it was a crack of the neck and up up and away.
Seems the hawk was a bit low on steam an’ all. Instead of taking me off to her nest to feed me to her little’uns and sending me on to the next bit, proper like, she drops me here. This tiny strip of trees between two big wet bits and whole lot of stinky places that don’t smell like anything I ever smelled before. Destiny thwarted.
No traipsing along the branches of Yggdrasil with Ratatoskr and the gang. No bounty of nuts and fruits for eternity. Just a long drop and a twig through the eye.
Now it wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d landed in a quiet little spot where I could have lain in peace, but no. No such luck for me. You see, to find that lovely cornucopia, I have to have a resting place. Not much to ask for, really. Just leave us where we fall so we can become one with the earth again. But of course I had to land in a dog park.
So now I am cursed to stay forever a ghost. All because of this stupid mutt.
She found me. Dug me up from beneath that soft bed of leaves where I was getting ready for the eternal bliss. Dragged me around like a prize and had a good old game with me. Then she buried me again. And so I had to move to another tree and wait for the light. But, next day she comes back and does it all over again. I’ve now been dug up and buried every day for eight turns of the sun. Sometimes twice in a day!
Well, the light don’t hang around forever. So, now I am doomed to roam this copse until the end of time. My only hope is to get washed down the river, but only a flood can do that. Chance would be a fine thing.
Hang on, is that a storm coming?
Okay, finally got to sign in. Loved this, Jo. It tickled me but also made me sorry for that poor little squirrel. Good writing!