Ghost Stories: Greg Murider

Who am I?

I’m a ghost. I am also a father, husband, and teacher. I am also a coward. A horrible coward.

If you’re wondering what this is all about, I’ll start at the beginning: my death. A mysterious woman had attacked me days earlier, and abused me unmercifully. The things she did were truly unspeakable horror. Days later, she killed my two friends, Chloe and Chase. I was close to actually committing suicide, but she beat me to it. She harassed me, tied a brick around my ankle, and threw me into a river. Being so weak, I wasn’t able to remove or even carry the brick, so I drowned.

I was amazed to find that my spirit was still attached to Earth. I felt I had no other reason to be here, so what had kept me terra-bound? Nonetheless, after a bit of aimless wondering, I made it to the Ghost Zone, and quickly found it was a place to be reckoned with. I discovered that my appearance had changed dramatically. I now looked more like a demon of myself. I also found I had strange abilities. I could fly, pass through solid objects, and much more. For instance, I could write things up to life and had the ability to summon different forms of technology. I found an old, abandoned library, and was surprised to find it belonged to my late half-brother, who had died in a burglary a few years earlier. So naturally, I took ownership of the place, and called it my home.

I tried searching for my friends, but it was no use. No ghost had ever heard of them and my writing spell couldn’t help me in this endeavor either. But I found that portals to the outside world would open simultaneously, and I would go to explore. About six years after my death, I came across a portal that led into a beautiful forest. Over a course of a few days, I met a woman named Jennifer. She was beautiful, and it was love at first sight.

Returning to the Ghost Zone, I happened to stumble across a crystal in a black box. I remember when I touched it, my body felt like it was on flames. I looked down, and then I saw something I had almost forgotten: my normal human appearance. When I let go of the crystal, I changed back into my ghost-form. Seeing my opportunity, I took the crystal to my home and fashioned it into a necklace. Now, whenever I wore it, I would have a human-like appearance and not be noticed on any ghost radar. So, I went back to Jennifer. I found out she had two sons, fairly young at the time, named Michael and Robert. I didn’t mind though; they were good kids, and as long as I was with Jennifer, I was happy. After I had been seeing Jennifer for a few months, I told them about my ghost status. They were surprised at first, but they kept it as a secret and always found the fun in it. I took up a job as an English teacher there, and the rest of that is history.

Two years later, we were married. I had died nine years ago and had been free of the Ghost Zone for three years. I was so happy with her, my Jennifer. It even came as more of a shock for a week after our honeymoon, she announced she was pregnant. Simply amazing, I was able to conceive a child even in my status: a ghost. Over the second trimester, I started worrying; the child had ectoplasm for blood, so what would happen? Any kind of complications and deformities frightened me. After we found out the baby was a boy, my thoughts, both good and bad, skyrocketed. The next couple of months went by quickly, and we were soon in a hospital waiting room, waiting for the doctors to come back. Mike and Bob were also with me, waiting for the same reason I was, but unlike me, they were discussing the wonders they could do with their new baby brother. A ghost for a brother? The possibilities are endless. I envied them for being so incredibly innocent and carefree while I was so worried and scared. Soon, I was called back into Jennifer’s room and waited with her. After what seemed an eternity, a blonde nurse come in holding our baby.

A small baby boy with a head of brown hair.

The next few months that followed, I helped take care of everything that was going on. Housework, appointments, regular work, you name it. The boys were helpful as well, but they couldn’t cook or wash or anything like that. I dreaded getting up at three in the morning to feed the baby, but he was easily entertained by watching my colorful ectoplasm swirl before his eyes. Occasionally his eyes would glow an uncommon color, but I just picked him up and held him and he would stop.

I remember one particular time he was incredibly fussy, I held him close and began to float inches of the ground. He calmed down for a few minutes, but when he began to cry I floated through the wall and rose higher. He started to relax again; so finding that flying actually calmed him, I danced in that night sky. He fell asleep in an instant during that flight. I held him close to my heart, and I felt his own small heart. Slower than normal, but then again, the both of us weren’t normal. We were dead. But floating in that dark sky with my baby son, I never felt so alive. With his blue eyes and brown hair, he did look like me. Just that fact made me all the more happier. This was much better than any other life I ever had. But that was about to change.

One morning, I woke up to find I was in the actual bed frame. To be specific, I was floating in it, but after I woke up, I fell onto the floor beneath. I was startled to say the least, and I saw that my hand was pale again. Looking down at my chest, I found that the crystal was gone. It probably untied when I was sleeping, but over the last three years I had never taken it off for more than a few hours. It had probably been off all night. I asked the boys to help me find it, which they did. I put it back on, and resumed my human appearance. I told the boys to not say anything to their mother, and everything went along as usual. An honest mistake, nothing bad happened, right? I was wrong.

A week after that incident, when the baby was five months, I was walking in the park. Jennifer, Mike, Bob, the baby and I were simply strolling, when I was knocked over by an unseen force. The way I landed only hurt me and not the baby, but then I saw Jenn and the boys being held back by invisible forces, and I heard evil chuckling behind me. And, I’m still positive to this day, my heart had skipped a beat at that moment.

Walker. He materialized in front of me, as well about twenty or so guards. Apparently being without my crystal notified him of a law-breaker. I found I had broken many laws, some I did not even knew existed, and some being the most sacred to ghosts. I remember some of the dialogue… "So now then, because you’re a ghost, and those mortals haven’t done anything…why don’t I just kill the little hybrid in your arms?" "Leave him out of this!! I don’t care what you do to me, but leave him alone!" -pause- "Very well. I’ll make you a deal. If you come with me to the prison to serve a sentence, I promise to leave your precious son out of this. If not, I can just kill him right here and now."

My decision was immediate. "Take me." Two guards came up behind me and shoved me. "Wait. Let me say good-bye first." Walker looked skeptic, but he let me go. I was heartbroken to say good-bye, but I had to. My family wasn’t going to pay for my mistakes. And Walker wasn’t going to get a second chance either. I put my necklace around my baby and told Jenn "Look, I want you to move. More or likely, they’re going to come back and they will kill you. I will find you when I get out, but for now, keep safe." She nodded, and we kissed one more time before I was forced away by the guards and thrown into a portal.

As it turned out, my sentence was a fifteen year sentence, and only fifteen because it was a first offense. Normally a first offense was about a year or so, but considering I had broken so many rules, mine was longer. Life in the prison was hard and cruel, and I have the scars to prove it. But I was right about telling Jenn to move; days after I came, I heard Walker screaming on how he couldn’t find them. I was beaten that night because of it. But even though it hurt beyond any possible belief me, I was happier knowing that Jenn had gotten away.  

Fifteen years went by slowly, and I was free. I went to my home, and found something that hadn’t been there before: a keyboard. A note was attached to it saying "This will be needed in the future, use it well." Testing it, I found that typing on it was a stronger equivalent of my writing ability. After a while, I began searching for my son. I did it every hour of the day, but nothing and no one was helping me. Ghosts would shun me, humans would run in fear, and everything else would be thrown at me. It was almost like when I first died and tried to find Chase and Chloe, but in this, the stakes were higher. Around Christmas, I knew it was just about hopeless, so I wrote a Christmas story. It was surprisingly really good, and I left a cryptic message in the beginning that I knew Jenn would know. Maybe I could find her that way. My hope was finally renewed for the first time in years. My first Christmas poem ever-COMPLETE!</b>

I had left my home onto the font steps, when it was suddenly shot up in pieces. My desperate hope to find my family was now ashes in my hands. A ghost kid, one I recognized as Danny Phantom, came up and tried to apologize. But my fury blinded me, and I lashed out at him. He was ignorant though, he hated Christmas. I remember thinking "That little… HE HAS A FAMILY TO SPEND IT WITH AND HE’S SAYING HE’S SICK OF IT?! He has no IDEA on what it’s like. He needs to be taught lesson." Afterwards, he was trapped in a story of my own making. It felt interesting to be the bad guy, which I was in this, and I came to teaching his lesson when I found I had broken another rule. I had almost forgotten about the truce, and I was soon met with a horde of ghosts. After a long fight, I was sent back to the prison. I was glad to find there that the tyke had learned his lesson, but everything else had gone to hell. I was back in the prison, other ghosts had taken a habit of throwing oranges at me, a few times actual bringing me to my knees with the pummeling, and I was no closer to finding Jenn or my son. To say the least, there were a many a night I cried myself to sleep.  

So months later, present day, I am let out of the prison. I don’t know why, but I am. Apparently somebody under the guise "Vox Vicus" went for my bail. The name sounds Latin, but I haven’t gotten to figuring it out yet.  I went home again, and saw the keyboard was up in shambles, but there was no way I could ask for help on that. By now my son is seventeen, close to being an adult. There almost seems no hope for me. What could I do for him? Nothing. If I find him, I’ll be ecstatic. But, what if he doesn’t understand? The reason I had to leave? The only way I could find him now is that crystal around his neck. And the fact he’s a halfa. But nothing else.

So, who am I?

I’m a ghost. One who died in 1988. I am also a father to a half ghost boy, sugrogate father to two others, husband to a mortal woman, and teacher of writing. I am also a coward. I gave up my chance to find them by being blinded by fury, using my powers to show the ghost boy, Danny, the resentment I also received.

If that is how I am, I don’t deserve to be a ghost. All I have done is being property of someone else or putting others in danger.

So, maybe I don’t deserve to be a father.