Halfway there

As she sat there desperately waiting for a sign, any sign of what to do, the realisation set in. There’s nothing to do, nothing for her. Too scared to live but too scared to die. She exists in a world that moves past her, every second she’s left behind. A living ghost.

What could she do? Run away and hide? Face the truth? No. No! She didn't understand. She reached for her chair. Suddenly, it disappeared.

She found the ghost on her vanity mirror, but then it disappeared again! She couldn't tell if this silly ghost was mischievous, or out for revenge, or something! "Where are you, you silly ghosty???" she asked in frustration. But all she heard was echoed laughter in return.

Frustrated, she grabbed her can of hairspray and sprayed it all over the room, hoping the ghost would show up in the strong smelling mist.

Little did she know the ghost had died as a teenager in New Jersey in the 1980s. Hairspray was her element. Might as well try to exorcise her with acid wash jeans and a Bon Jovi cassette, you know?