Episode Transcript
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Hello, and welcome to the KaidanKai, where we read a story about
the supernatural every week. I'm yourhost, Linda Gould, and I'm so
happy to present today's story, TheBlue Ghost by Tasia Morgan. So many
ghost stories are centered around war,and of course that's no surprise, is
it. With so many soldiers andcivilians dying violently, terrified, lonely thinking
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about their loved ones in their finalmoments, I guess the fierce emotions would
imprint on the area and then becomegateways for ghosts, or so the idea
goes. The character in today's storyis grieving the loss of her father,
who died in the war, andshe seeks the help of a fortune teller
to guide her father's spirit to her. As is so often the case,
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however, what you ask for isnot always what you get. Tajia Morgan
is a horror, thriller and suspenseauthor with short stories and non fiction articles
published in various anthologies and magazines.She was the editor of Crime Writers of
Canada's fortieth anniversary anthology Cold Canadian Crimefrom twenty twenty two and you can see
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her full bio in the episode description. But now here is the Blue Ghost
by Tasia Morgan and Joy. MarjorieLaddell had never seen a ghost. She
wanted to more than anything in theworld. She hoped the lady sitting across
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from her could help. She triedto sit patiently, but her heart thrummed.
Beneath the starchy white fabric of herdress, A stout lady with flowing
gray locks placed three tarot cards onthe table in front of her. Marjorie
wiped her clammy palms on her skirt. Beneath the tablecloth, the warm,
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sugary scents of popcorn and candyfloss fromthe bustling fair beyond the tent flaps permeated
every surface. Her gaze lifted tothe woman's light gray eyes, so like
Marjorie's father's, And that had tomean something, didn't it. Surely it
was a sign. This is yourfirst time, Madame Josephine stated, not
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a question but a comment. Alreadythis fortune teller could read her. The
woman's spindly fingers touched an amulet thatadorned her collar boone, a golden pendant
shaped like an eye. Her redlips pursed and your last, Marjorie leaned
forward, My last the woman waveda bejeweled hand. We start with the
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cards, but I only the cards, the woman said, your future.
Every young lady wants to know herfuture. Marjorie looked away. Her short
nails dug crescent moons into her palmsas she clutched her hands in her lap.
This wasn't what she came here for. She could think of nothing more
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irrelevant than the future. Go ahead, dearie, flip the cards. Marjorie's
long fingers brushed across the table top, then stilled myself. The woman nodded.
Charlatan. Marjorie's father would have calledher. He'd be so ashamed to
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see his only daughter huddled here inthis dark tent, surrounded by candles and
shiny occult statues. His staunch Catholicupbringing would never have allowed it. But
what choice did she have. Marjoriereached for the first card and flipped it
over. It was upside down xv I I inscribed the top, while
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the bottom said the soulet. Twofigures stood beneath the blazing sun. She
remembered her own surprise upon seeing theopen casket, The slack face within usually
so expressive. How dark he'd gottenshe thought. At the time, she'd
expected him to be pale in death, the way she'd seen others. But
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his skin had held the red browntinge of sunburn, and she'd imagined the
sun beating down upon his back,his uniform soaked through with sweat as he
crawled through the dirt. The artilleryfire would have been deafening. And how
had his face been burned? Somaybe only after hours of lying on his
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back in the field, bleeding outinto the part earth in his final moments,
skin sizzling under the open sky.Marjorie shivered, chilled. The sun
God reversed. Madame joseph sighed,much sadness has enveloped you in your young
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life, so true of many duringthe war. She reached out and patted
the back of Marjorie's hand. Yourfuture shows darkness. Marjorie pulled back,
her azure eyes wide darkness. MadameJosephine didn't elaborate. Next, taking a
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breath, Marjorie flipped the second thickworn card. Its surface was grimy at
the edges from a thousand other fingerstouching their futures. This, too,
she viewed upside down x x Ile Monde, a small figure stood in
an oval. An angel, aneagle, a bull, and a lion
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filled the four corners, the worldalso in reverse. Madame Josephine said,
Yeah, Marjorie thought the world ahungry place, with sharp teeth, cold
and insatiable. It was the worldthat took her father from her. It
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took and took, and always demandedmore for God, for country, for
the mercurial will of those who controlledit. But she would forgive it all
for just one more moment with him, to know that this world wasn't all
there was. Marjorie glanced up,meeting the woman's cloudy gray eyes. She
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wondered for a moment if she wereblind, if she couldn't see the cards
at all, but rather could seethem, And if so, what else
could the woman see. Madame Josephineround the action, pulling her sagging jowels
in reverse. It speaks of incompletion, unfinished business, a lack of closure.
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Marjorie gasped. Yeah, Yeah,that's exactly it. It no closure.
That's why this reading pertains to yourfuture, dearie. It is what
you can expect, not what you'realready familiar with. Sitting back in the
uncomfortable wooden chair. Marjorie twisted along curl of black hair between her fingers.
Her mouth was dry, an earthyflavor lingering at the back of her
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throat. Are you saying I'll neverhave closure? The next card, Dearie.
The last card with a huff,Marjorie flipped it over. Like the
other two, it faced away fromher x LaRue the fortune a wheel surrounded
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by winged creatures. Madame Josephine suckedair between her teeth. The wheel of
fortune and reverse bad luck, Dearie. She pulled the cards back, shuffling
them into her deck. Bad luck. What did that even mean? It
didn't seem fair. Three bad drawsafter she'd paid good money for this vague
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and disheartening insight. I didn't cometo see my future. No, you
came to see your past. Butthere is no going back. The past
is gone, Marjorie blanked back tears. That's not true. He can't be
gone. My father he died inthe war. Yes, Marjorie straightened,
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looking around the dim tent. Theshadows seemed to writhe with the possibility of
life, life after death. Washe here with them now? Could he
see her? Was he trying tospeak. Everyone has lost family in the
war. Every young lady who comesin here, father's brothers, sons,
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husband's bows. They're gone. There'sno justice or solace to it. They're
simply God. Marjorie choked, herthroat tightening. But you see them,
don't you. You can still seethem, so they're not gone there.
The only ghost I see are thepeople sitting at my table. Marjorie's vision
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blurred. She swiped her cheeks andbit down on her trembling lower lip.
But I paid you, I'm sorryto say not every customer leaves satisfied.
I wish I could give you peace, but your cards are clear. She
sniffled, cheeks, heating. Sheshould never have come here crying in front
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of some stranger like a child,foolish girl. That's it. The woman
stared at her for a long moment. My dear child, I'm afraid some
very bad omens around you. Youraura is a most peculiar shade of blue
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bright, unstable. Normally this wouldsuggest creativity, self expression, but yours,
Madame Josephine shook her head. Theonly comfort I can offer, and
that the end is near for you, and fate will guide your path to
the other side of your woes.Sputtering, Margie rose from her chair,
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her fists cleansed at her sides.Her tongue wanted to unleash something sharp and
cutting, but her throat was tootight for words to pass. Madame Josephine
slid Marjorie's coins across the table,Take them and good luck. Had she
just been read jected by a fortuneteller. Marjorie's mind spun as she slid
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her money into her pocketbook and stormedout of the dark tent. The bright
sun blinded her. People shoved past, children laughed. Music played from the
center square. A warm hand landedon her shoulder. Marjorie blinked until her
vision cleared the here you are?I was looking everywhere. Her friend Angela
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stood beside her, in a pinkdress, the matching ribbon, holding her
blonde hair back in a short ponytail. Angela frowned, are you all right?
Rubbing out her wet cheeks. Marjoriemuttered, I'm fine, I'm fine.
Just forget it, tilting her headto one side. Angela looped her
arm through Marjorie's and pulled her along. I was thinking we could go to
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the dance hall. Tonight. Idon't feel like it, Angela pouted.
You heard the rumors, didn't you. Marjorie stopped rumors about the dance hall.
Supposedly it's haunted, Angela said,whispering the word haunted, as if
it were a dirty secret, thoughher eyes were bright. Come on,
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Marge, it'll be a gas haunted. The fists around Marjorie's heart loosened its
hold. All right, let's godancing. The dance hall vibrated with activity.
Upon the stage, a local bandplayed Sinatra's latest hit five minutes more.
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Behind them, an old mural waspainted with wall dancers hand in hand
as they wheeled around a blue andgreen earth. Couples twirled across the dance
floor. The ladies wore beautiful hatsand large bows pinned in their hair.
The simple utility dresses Marjorie had grownso used to were still common among the
crowd, padded shoulders, nipped inwaistlines, and hems falling just below the
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knee, in a range of colorsand patterns, but they were beginning to
give way to a new wave offashion as the world tried to forget all
it had lost. Most of themen wore boxy suits and tweed, but
some retained their uniforms even though thewar had ended. The many empty,
pinned sleeves and crutches attested that thewar would never truly be over for some.
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Some chose to stay on with themilitary, either through dedication or because
they no longer had anywhere else tocall home. Marjorie's own utility dress was
a light blue, simple but clean. Her long black hair hung in curls.
If she were honest, she didn'twant to be here. There were
too many happy people, laughing andchatting and pretending everything would be better now.
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But there was a possibility, however, slim, that she might see
something tonight, something to confirm onceand for all that life continued beyond the
veil of death. Our cousin Virginiaswears she saw it in the ladies room
only last week, and she's beensick ever since. Angela slid a new
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glass of punch in front of Marjorieas she dropped into a chair. The
small round table was cluttered with emptyglasses, a bright blue figure. They
call it the blue ghost, Ablue ghost. Angela's older brother Leo laughed
at Marjorie's side that doesn't sound veryscary it is, Angela argued. They
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say it's a bad omen if yousee it. Who says Leo asked?
Over the loud saxophones and trumpets,Angela shrugged everybody. Leo slid his gaze
over to Marjorie and rolled his eyesconspiratorially. From the dance floor, two
figures emerged and headed toward their table. Marjorie recognized one as Leo's friend from
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the war, Ferdinand. The otherwas an American boy, still in uniform.
An eagle crest marked him as avolunteer with the Eagle Squadron of the
Royal Air Force, someone who wouldhave joined the fight even before his own
country committed to the war efforts.The Americans smiled at her with bright eyes
as he and fared Nan took theirseats. Arnold, he introduced himself,
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reaching out to shake her hand.Pleasure to meet you, Miss. It
was at times like these she feltas if she could see the future,
herself, a warm hand in herson the dance floor, those icy blue
eyes staring into her own with awhole life laid out before them. But
something always pulled her back into herself, and the illusion would fade. The
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fortune teller had been a disappointment today, but she had seen Marjorie for
what she truly was a ghost sittingat her table. Ghosts had no future.
Marjorie shook the boy's hand without makingeye contact. Apparently a girl died
here back in the twenties, Angelasaid, continuing their conversation without missing a
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beat. And now she haunts theplace, still wearing a flapper dress with
pearls. If you see her,something bad is about to happen. Leo
scowled. Don't say things like that, Angie. It's not true. Virginia
just caught a bug. It istrue. I believe it, fair Nand
said, earning a grin from Angela. I met a psychic once she knew
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I was a tourist. Even beforeI said anything, she said, I'd
survive the war. He spread hishands wide, and here I am.
The wheel of fortune is always spinningthrough our lives. A hushed murmur rolled
over the table. Marge saw afortune teller today at the fair, Angela
declared, didn't you All eyes turnedto Marjorie. She felt her face heat.
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Ange, she scolded, tell us, Angela said, rocking forward in
her chair. Arnold raised an eyebrow. What did the fortune tellers say?
Images of tarot cards flashed through hermind, worn, the colors faded,
foxing around the edges, the sun, the world, the wheel of fortune,
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A bright future flipped upside down intodarkness. In completion and bad luck.
Her stomach sank. Marjorie slid herchair back and stood, excuse me.
Angela grabbed her arm. Marge,I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought
it up. You aren't using thelab are you. Her eyes were wide.
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Angela would usually accompany her everywhere,but she looked genuinely afraid to do
so now, and she certainly didn'toffer. Marjorie shook her friend off and
chuckled, I'll only be a minute. She could sense Angela's frown on her
back as she exited the dance floor, leaving her friends behind. She followed
the signs that led her down anarrow hallway. The dinner of the music
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halved as the doors closed, leavingonly the tinny echo of voices and instruments.
The fortune teller may not have seenher father, but Marjorie wasn't willing
to give up that easily. Shehad to know if the lingering spirit of
a woman who died more than twentyyears ago could still be in this dance
hall. Then why couldn't Marjorie's fatherstill be around? If strangers could see
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a dead woman, why couldn't shesee her own father. The hallway was
dimly lit. Her low black heelsclicked on the off white tiles. A
few women tucked by her on theirway back to the dance floor, giggling
and whispering. As Margie stepped infront of the door to the ladies room,
the power flicked out. The dimhallway fell into complete darkness. Something
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banged on the other side of thedoor. Her breath caught in her chest.
The music silence, but she couldstill hear a muted chatter of surprised
voices. Marjorie shivered, regretting leavingher water behind. Her first instinct in
the darkness to duck and cover,Listening for the wine of bombs rocketing through
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the sky like falling stars. Shetucked into the wide doorway, pressing her
back to the thick, lacquered wood. Her heart harbored a hair trigger as
she prepared for the ear splitting wailof an air raid siren. Moments passed,
but it didn't come. The warwas over. There was nothing to
be afraid of anymore. It wasjust a blackout. Marjorie took a deep
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breath and stood beneath the muffled voicescoming from the dance floor. She heard
something else. She cocked her head, listening in the darkness, listening to
the darkness. Water. It wasthe sound of rushing water. She pressed
her palm against the door and easedit open. The sound was louder now,
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and as she took a step forwardinto the space, her shoes splashed
at the edge of a puddle,a leak, or a broken pipe.
Moonlight streamed in through a small windowin the far corner, just enough for
her to see that she was ruiningher good shoes. Stomach fluttering, she
eyed the stalls. Shadows squirmed inevery corner. The steaks seemed higher with
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the lights out. Her craving tosee a ghost suddenly more foolish. Just
as she was about to turn back, a spark in the mirror caught her
eye, bright and blue. Marjoriegasped, she was here, the blue
ghost. Shivering, Margie stepped forward. The lights flickered back on and Marjorie's
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vision filled with a bright flash.Her muscles snapped tight and rigid. The
air froze in her chest. Shefell to the floor. Marjorie's eyes blinked
open. She pulled herself up,smoothing down her dress. Her mind stumbled
and fits and starts at She glancedaround the room. The power had gone
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out, it had come back on. She was in the ladies room at
the dance hall. Maybe she slippedin the water. Marjorie glanced down at
the floor. There was no longera pool of water there. The black
tiles beneath her were clean and dry. She could have sworn they'd been white
moments ago. Had she hit herhead. Her fingers explored her hairline,
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No blood, nothing hurt. Howlong had she been on the floor,
It couldn't have been terribly long.The night was still dark beyond the small
window. She stood over the sink, taking in her pale complexion in the
mirror. Margie. Margie's head snappedtoward the door as the phantom sensation of
a cold blade slid between her ribs. Her chest drew tight. She was
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alone, but that voice, she'dknow it anywhere. Her eyes welled.
Dad he'd sounded far away. Sherushed to the door and slipped out into
the hallway, empty swallowing, shecalled out for him. As she walked
down the hallway, the walls lookeddifferent than they had before, as if
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they'd gained a fresh coat of paint. Knowing her friends would be worried about
her after the blackout, she headedtoward the dance floor, still listening for
her father's voice. Bodies pressed throughthe doors to the dance floor before Marjorie
could open them, men and womentumbling out in a mess of bright,
colorful outfits. The men wore beards, their hair shaggy and long. The
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women's skirts were indecently short, hairlong and wild. They walked by her
through the hall, a costume party. Her mind spun, Angie, she
called. Stepping into the dance hall, the music had returned, a new
fast beat. It was a songshe wasn't familiar with. A man on
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stage announced it as my generation.The crowd clapped and hooted up roariously.
This was the wrong room, sherealized distantly, except her table was where
she left it, the long barstill stretching across one side of the space,
the mural of the wheeling dancers,and the earth was still on the
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wall. The windows and exits wereall in the right places, but the
colors were all wrong. The floorwas shinier, even the air itself was
thick with an odd scent. Herfriends were gone. In their place sat
a group of young people in thesame strange costumes. Marjorie walked up to
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them. Have you seen my friends? They were sitting here before, speaking
amongst themselves, ignoring her. Oneof the women said, it's true,
Greg, some girl died here inthe forties. Electric shot it in the
toilets. They say she still hauntsthe place. Marjorie stepped back from the
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table, her heart hammering. Aman walked through her to reach his seat.
Marjorie felt her whole body shift,slide and snapped back into place.
She gasped. The man shivered,turning up his collar. Chilly in here.
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Marjorie ran out of the dance hall. Her hands trembled, fingers tingling.
Tears blurred her vision as she dashedthrough the front door of the building
toward the cool night air, onlyto find herself standing once more in the
ladies room. Shaking her head,she tried again to leave, only to
find herself back where she started trembling. Marjorie gazed down at herself. She
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looked the same, felt the same, But something was wrong. This place
was so different, and something waspreventing her from leaving. Was this some
horrible nightmare? A girl came inwearing a short, shapeless leopard print dress
and heavy eye makeup. She walkedpast Marjorie and powdered her face in the
mirror. Marjorie reached out, touchingthe girl's arm. Please, you have
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to help me. I don't understandwhat's ah. The girl shivered violently.
Her pink powder case clattered into thesink. Marjorie's hand fell away as the
girl grabbed her stomach and leaned overthe door swung as another woman entered in
similar attire. Hey, groovy chick. Whoa Cassidy? Are you okay?
She patted the girl's back. Cassidyshook her head, still hunched. I
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don't feel so well. I thinkI think I saw something in the mirror.
Neither of the women paid Marjorie anyattention these mirrors, Cassidy's friend said,
Her rose painted lips drooped in afrown. You know this place is
haunted right, maybe you saw aghost. It's bad luck to see a
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ghost here. Cassidy grabbed on toher friend. Don't freak me out,
Let's just get out early. Thetwo turned to leave. Wait I The
doors swung softly closed behind them,leaving Marjorie alone. Breathing hard, She
sank to the floor, leaning againstthe wall. They couldn't see her.
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Something happened when she touched the girl. She'd hurt her. How was that
even possible? Marjorie knew the answer, but she didn't want to admit it.
If she was the ghost haunting thisplace, she'd have to be dead.
And if she were dead, thenwhere was her father? She'd heard
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the soft cadence of his voice whenshe awoke, she knew it, But
where was he? If this wasdeath, they'd be together. She wrapped
her arms around on her knees,rocking and the blue Ghost. For a
moment before the flash, Marjorie couldhave sworn she caught a glimpse of it
in here. Her eyes welled.But if this were the afterlife, where
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had the blue Ghost gone? Unlessshe had taken its place. Days and
years seemed to pass, but thedarkness beyond the window never changed, the
sun never rose. After her latestfailed attempt to leave, Marjorie paced around
the cursed room. This wasn't fair, her fist clenched at her sides.
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To be trapped here, to bealone, It wasn't fair. She huffed
out a puff of air, buther lungs burned and she could hardly breathe
through her tight throat. She dugher short nails into her palms. If
this is death, where is he? Marjorie sobbed. She didn't deserve this
fate. Trapped in a darkened ladiesroom in an endless night, and unresolved
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past behind her and no future beforeher. She leaned over, clutching her
aching chest. A metallic whining echoedthrough the wall behind her, followed by
a bang. A spray of waterpulled on the floor beneath her feet.
Marjorie stared as the pool expanded,the burst pipe clanking. She wiped at
her damp cheeks. This wasn't theevidence of an afterlife that she longed for.
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She wondered if death was the samefor everyone a cage, If her
father was still on a battlefield somewherewandering. There had to be a way
out. She couldn't stand it anymore. The four walls of her prison seemed
to constrict, pressing in on her, crushing her. The lights flickered then
extinguished, leaving the room in shadows. Margie. A voice whispered. Marjorie's
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head whipped side to side, seekingout her father's voice. Nothing stirred in
the darkened corners. Dad, whereare you? She choked on a sob,
Come how, she shouted, voiceechoing off the tiles. The door
swung open, and Marjorie saw abright light. For a moment, she
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thought it was the bright light,the one she should be going toward but
could never find. Then she realizedit wasn't a light at all. It
was a girl. The girl shuffledin with her hands out in the darkness.
She stepped in the puddle, glanceddown, and mumbled, oh man,
I just got these shoes. Herfingers sought out the cool porcelain sink.
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She turned it on and washed herhands. Sighing, Marjorie stepped closer.
A strange, soft blue glow seemedto emanate from the girl and aura.
Marjorie realized, just as the fortuneteller had described her own aura so
long ago, electricity vibrated in theair between them. An invisible pool drew
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Marjorie closer still, the girl blindlyturned off the tap. A set of
dog tags hung around her neck,dipping into the v of her blue dress.
A small silver bracelet decorated with wingedcherubs dangled from her wrist. She
didn't seem to see Marjorie, butMarjorie saw her more clearly than she'd seen
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any one before, a replacement.The girl dried her hands, her shoes,
still touching the edge of the growingpuddle. It was clear to Marjorie
now there would always be a blueghost in this dance hall, but it
didn't have to be the same one. The roll of the blue ghost must
always be filled. Marjorie had beensome other girl's replacement after more than twenty
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years of wandering, and this girlshe would be Marjorie's. This was her
way out. Marjorie reached out totouch her. Her eyes fell again to
the dog tags around on the girl'sneck. Marjorie hesitated. What had this
girl lost already? Marjorie's chest tightened. She knew that pain, that loss,
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the unending agony of claws tearing andshredding her rib cage from the inside.
Was it this girl's fate to becondemned here like Marjorie? Was Margie?
Her father's voice whispered from far away. Marjorie swallowed the girl, tossed
her dark hair back, and movedtoward the door. Maybe it was fate,
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after all, Marjorie had been hereso long, and the wheel of
fortune always turns. Eventually, Margie'shand landed on the girl's shoulder. She
twisted around with a gasp, justas the lights flickered on and a blue
jolt swept up her body. Thegirl crumpled to the floor in a heap.
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Marjorie closed her eyes. When sheopened them, she was in a
field. The sun had risen andit fell warm against her skin, blanketing
Marjorie's previously cold world in life.Her heart swelled as a man in uniform
walked toward her. Margie, I'vewaited so long to see you again.
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In last week's outro, I saidthat this story could be called the Hot
Potato Ghost. I love how Marjorieconsidered for a moment what she was about
to do before she passed the ghostonto the next girl. She had a
moment of empathy and reflection and thenbasically said, naw, I'm sick of
it here and she left. WhenI read the story for the first time,
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I was so touched and I thought, oh my god, she's going
to stop the cycle. I guessI'm just a sucker and as softy because
when I read the story to myhusband, he was like, Linda,
of course she was going to passon the ghost. Even ghost don't want
to be ghost for all of eternityand are going to pass that on if
they have the chance. So thanksTja for giving me that little bit of
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hope at the end. The kaidonKai Haunted Horror Contest is winding down.
The deadline is July fifteenth, sothere's just under a month to submit.
Send me your story of a hauntedhouse and I'll choose four to read during
August and those four will receive acash prize. Please go to kaidon Kai
Stories dot com Kai d a nKai Stories dot com to see details and
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to submit. Next week, wehave an indescribable, delectable, distinctive story
and you will not want to missit or any of next month stories,
So please subscribe to the kaidon Kaion your favorite podcast platform. As always,
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please review the podcast, follow uson Twitter, mastadon Instagram and YouTube.
All the information is in the podcastand episod so descriptions. Thank you
so much for listening today. I'llsee you next week