I, Writer … # 15

Routine Matters

I, Writer … # 15

I, GHOSTWRITER

I’d answered an advert online.

Ghost Writer required. Hours to suit. Reasonable rates.

Excellent conditions. A job for life.

So, there I was, in a cemetery, leaning against a tombstone taking dictation from Dearly Departed. We’d worked out a series of alphabetic taps and scrapes. Not Morse code exactly but near enough. I won’t bore you with the details at the moment. Suffice to say, it worked. Dearly Departed had an eternity and I had time on my hands.

My spirited friend, who I shall now refer to as DD, had always wanted to write a novel. It’s never too late in my opinion. And besides, literature from the Great Beyond is always so classy. 

The opening sentence had been very tricky …

I am damned.

Good. Quite good. A little bit more perhaps …

I am so damned.

Yes. Quite…

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