Hauntings

From whiskey river (first stanza):

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies

Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.

Nobody that matters, that is. Distant relatives of course
Die, whom one never has seen or has seen for an hour,
And they gave one candy in a pink-and-green stripèd bag,
or a jack-knife,
And went away, and cannot really be said to have lived at all.

And cats die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails,
And their reticent fur is suddenly all in motion
With fleas that one never knew were there,
Polished and brown, knowing all there is to know,
Trekking off into the living world.
You fetch a shoe-box, but it’s much too small, because she won’t
curl up now:
So you find a bigger box, and bury her in the yard, and weep.

But you do not wake up a month from then, two months,
A year from then, two years, in the middle of the night
And weep, with your knuckles in your mouth, and say Oh,
God! Oh, God!
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies that matters, —
mothers and fathers don’t die.

And if you have said, “For heaven’s sake, must you always be
kissing a person?”
Or, “I do wish to gracious you’d stop tapping on the window
with your thimble!”
Tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow if you’re busy
having fun,
Is plenty of time to say, “I’m sorry, mother.”

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died,
who neither listen nor speak;
Who do not drink their tea, though they always said
Tea was such a comfort.

Run down into the cellar and bring up the last jar of raspberries;
they are not tempted.
Flatter them, ask them what was it they said exactly
That time, to the bishop, or to the overseer, or to Mrs. Mason;
They are not taken in.
Shout at them, get red in the face, rise,
Drag them up out of their chairs by their stiff shoulders and shake
them and yell at them;
They are not startled, they are not even embarrassed; they slide
back into their chairs.

Your tea is cold now.
You drink it standing up,
And leave the house.

(Edna St. Vincent Millay)

…and:

How I Became a Ghost

It was all about objects, their objections
expressed through a certain solidity.

My house for example still moves
through me, moves me.
When I tried to reverse the process
I kept dropping things, kept finding myself
in the basement.

Windows became more than
usually problematic.
I wanted to break them
which didn’t work, though for awhile

I had more success with the lake.

The phone worked for a long time
though when I answered
often nobody was there.

Bats crashed into me at night,
but then didn’t anymore.

The rings vanished from my hand,
the pond.

I stopped feeling the wind.

One day the closets were empty.

Another day the mirrors were.

(Leslie Harrison [source])

Not from whiskey river:

Lucy Muir	Why do you haunt?
Capt. Gregg	Because I have plans for me house which don’t include a pack of strangers barging in and making themselves at home.
Lucy Muir	Then you were trying to frighten me away?
Capt. Gregg	You call that trying? Ha-ha-ha! I’ve barely started. No, that was enough for all the others. They didn’t want any part of it let me tell you. Didn’t even stop to weigh anchor, they just cut the cables and ran.
Lucy Muir	I think it’s very mean of you, frightening people. Childish too.
Capt. Gregg	Well, in your case I am prepared to admit I charted the course with regret. You’re not a bad looking woman you know. Especially when you’re asleep.
Lucy Muir	So, you were in my room this afternoon.
Capt. Gregg	MY ROOM, madam!

(from 1947’s The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, screenplay by Philip Dunne; Lucy Muir was played by Gene Tierney, Capt. Gregg, by Rex Harrison in high (and largely phony) dudgeon)

…and then there’s this, from Reaper Man, one of Terry Pratchett’s hilarious Discworld fantasy novels. In the books, the action takes place in a vaguely medieval time of castles, gods, knights, and so on; a recurring character is Death himself, with many of the stereotypical Death-personified attributes: has a skeletal appearance, dresses in a hooded, full-length black robe, rides a pale horse (named Binky), and so on. Pratchett adds his own touches: for instance, when Death speaks to those he haunts (most often but not always at the end of their lives), the text always appears without quotation marks and in so-called small capitals, Like This.*

In Reaper Man, Death is surprised to learn that he has a finite lifespan (sort of an administrative cock-up, as it happens, which in time he himself will come to correct). Thus, he gives up his eternal career and rides off to experience some of the joys of mortal life.

Like… working. Heck, like simply making conversation.

Eventually, he comes upon a “Man Wanted” sign tacked up on an old, wooden fence around a farm. The letters have faded, but he decides to take a chance with the cantankerous old woman who lives there. After some initial questions — she’s doesn’t recognize him, of course, and is surprised anyone who looks like this, with a horse like that, might be seeking work as a farmhand — introductions are made:

“My name’s Miss Flitworth.”

Yes.

She waited.

“I expect you have a name, too,” she prompted.

Yes. That’s right.

She waited again.

“Well?”

I’m sorry?

“What is your name?”

The stranger started at her for a moment, and then looked around wildly.

“Come on,” said Miss Flitworth. “I ain’t employing no one without no name. Mr…?”

The figure stared upward.

Mr. Sky?

“No one’s called Mr. Sky.”

Mr. … Door?

She nodded.

“Could be. Could be Mr. Door. There was a chap called Doors I knew once. Yeah. Mr. Door. And your first name? Don’t tell me you haven’t got one of those, too. You’ve got to be a Bill or a Tom or a Bruce or one of those names.”

Yes.

“What?”

One of those.

“Which one?”

Er. The first one?

“You’re a Bill?”

Yes?

Miss Flitworth rolled her eyes.

“All right, Bill Sky…” she said.

Door.

“Yeah. Sorry. All right. Bill Door…”

Call me Bill.

Finally, from 1984, the “official” video for one of the year’s biggest hits, featuring cameos from a variety of mid-1980s TV and musical stars (including some who continue to haunt us, and the newest US Senator from Minnesota):

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* For a brief introduction to the character of Death in Pratchett’s books, see this page at the Discworld & Pratchett Wiki. By the way, if you don’t see “small capitals” above, it probably just means your browser isn’t fully up-to-date. For shame.