For Megan

This is one of those posts that most likely won't make sense to anyone but me, but I'm still going to honor the person by posting this anyway. If you don't like my Ghost Gal stories, now would be the time to skip this post.

As most of you know by now, I see dead people. And yes, it's totally funnier to say it that way because it breaks the ice. I tend to attract a lot of young girls who were brutally murdered for whatever reason, and many whose remains have never been found. They stick with me, tell me about their deaths, follow me around, and generally make my life a living catastrophe in hopes I will cold call one of their families or the cops and tell them all about the stuff I know, with no logical or scientific reason for knowing it, and hope they believe me and don't throw me in jail. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying I feel like a jerk that I'm not brave enough to cold call anyone, because what they told me has proven to not be wrong in cases where the bodies were found and I could compare their info to the info the police give about the case. It's uncanny and scary.

My girls stick with me. It's weird to say, but in their own way, they become like friends. I realize this makes me sound like a psycho with imaginary friends, but you try seeing people as clear as I'm typing this right now, that no one else can see and then get back to me. You grow used to them. So when one suddenly disappears, you know something has changed. Some of the people I've seen became highly publicized weeks after their disappearances, after I already knew they were dead and had never heard of them. For that reason, I'm only using first names here.

I once had a young woman named Chelsea. I had a dream that I was her the night she died. I knew how she died, where she was thrown, the whole thing. Three days later the case was reported on the news. Three days later they found her body with the exact same injuries and in the exact same position in the exact same place I was when I was her in my dream. I had never heard of this girl before. She lived clear across the country, but yet I knew without a fraction of a doubt by just seeing her face online, before even reading the news report, that it was her.

She stayed with me for awhile. The guy who murdered her murdered another girl, too. She didn't want the death penalty for him. She wanted life in prison. You know what prisoners do to guys who rape and murder under aged girls; you know what they do to pedophiles. She wanted him to live in his own hell, instead of having the chance to die and get away from it. Suddenly, one day, she told me she was leaving. After months, she just said goodbye. I didn't know why until I looked online that same night to find that just that day, her killer was sentenced to life in prison without the option of the death penalty or parole. She was at peace.

This taught me that sometimes what someone thinks they want me to tell their family in death, or they think they need me to pass on, isn't really what they want or why they're sticking around. She was adamant that she was sticking around until I told her family that she didn't suffer. Until I called them and explained exactly what happened to her in detail that no parents should ever have to hear about their child's death, just so they know she was knocked out cold through it all and died peacefully. Her body just let go. She felt no pain. She felt no terror. She was okay with it. But really all she wanted was to make sure the scum that had killed her was in prison. Then she was free to move on.

That lesson has come in very handy for me tonight. I had a young lady named Megan. She and another one of my girls, Kristen, who did not know each other in life, were very fond of each other and very fond of moving things, making noises, and generally driving me nuts and thinking it was funny. Yes, dead people have a sense of humor, too. Just because you die does not mean you can't be funny or harass people anymore. I didn't see one without the other. They were stuck like glue for about nine months, and I was ready to rip my hair out and cry. Then, suddenly, there was Kristen but no Megan, and Kristen didn't seem to know what had happened. She was, dare I say, lost. I understand the irony.

Megan was insistent that she wasn't going anywhere until I told her father about some files she was hiding that would explain her death and who did it, because the person they were looking at was the wrong guy. The reason for her death was also wrong. She told me she was not leaving until I cold called her father halfway across the country and told him all this information. I told her that if I could find a better way to do that, I would, but I can't just call her dad who still assumes she is just missing and has no proof she is dead, and break his heart like that, and also make him wonder if he should lock me up. I know I hadn't called him, yet she was gone anyway. Sometimes my girls will go away for awhile to watch over someone, yet she never came back and I didn't understand why. With the holidays and the hustle and bustle of everything, she fell wayward and I was glad for a little bit of peace to wrap presents, no offense, Megan, and I didn't have a chance to check into any developments in her case.

I finally had a chance to sit down tonight, breathe, and, with the urging of Kristin, tried to find out what could have made her leave. A few weeks ago, her skull was found...in the shape she said it would be in, where she said it would be all those months ago when she decided to come into my life to harass me...I mean, when she decided to nicely float into my life with all the goodness in her non beating heart and ask me for help. Either way, at the end of the day it turns out she didn't really want me to tell her dad where those papers were, she just wanted him to know she was gone. I think somehow she was hoping that I'd contact her dad and somehow end up where she lives so she could lead me to her remains. This wasn't about those papers at all. And now that there's a skull, there's proof, and there's something to bury to give him closure, she moved on.

My heart goes out to her family and I pray that the proper person will have their ass dragged back from the Caribbean, where they are being cliche and hiding from money embezzlement and other laws they broke that would send them into federal prison, and their asses are stuck in litigation until their asses are prosecuted to the fullest extent. Kristen just hopes they get in an amazing plane crash where it blows up and they burn slowly like they did to Megan. She hopes this for her friend, of course, because this is the kind of friend she is. Megan, I hope you've crossed over and found the place you are supposed to be, where you're happy and at peace. It's been a joy to have you annoy me for the better part of last year. Really, it has.

Kristen also tells me that, and I quote, "she's not going anywhere until the motherfucker who killed her, Morgan, and several other women is safely in custody of the police where she hopes someone will beat the living shit out of him." Just because you're dead doesn't meant you can't swear and be angry. And Kristen, if there was ever anyone I believed when it came to why they were truly sticking around, it would be you. And I hope they catch the guy and you haunt him for the next sixty years until he dies lonely and psychotic in solitary confinement. No, we don't play well with murderers here at Ruby Red Hearts.