[ WP ] Usually the recently deceased end up haunting the likes of a castle , crypt or old mansion . Somehow you ended up stuck with a Winnebago .

It had n't been a good Wednesday. I was late to work because of a stoppage on the 6 train out of Murray Hill, my computer crashed right in the middle of my weekly marketing projections, and some asshole ate my deconstructed quinoa salad. Also I was hit by a Winnebago on my way to visit a Keffir cleansing clinic somewhere in Greenwich. How the Hell a Winnebago got into Manhattan, I have no idea, but I thought it would n't matter because I was dead. 
 
 West Side Highway; that had to be how they got here. 
 
 Anyway, being dead, you can imagine how shocked I was to wake up inside said Winnebago. Also, as I looked out the window, I saw fields of corn and... I do n't know... Soybeans, maybe? Well, it certainly was n't Midtown. 
 
 `` Good morning!'' a high, squeaky voice called from behind me, scaring the shit out of me. `` I see that you're finally back from Central Afterlife Processing; do you have your 12-324-A with affixed disposition statement?'' I stared blankly at a pale, scrawny woman wearing clothing that had to be a hundred years out of fashion. She had a white bonnet and was covered in blood, her throat obviously torn apart. 
 
 `` Wolves,'' she simply replied, `` but I have to take people's word on it; you'll soon discover that you ca n't see your reflection anywhere. Your form?'' 
 
 `` Am I... Am I dead?!'' I shouted. 
 
 `` Quite. And from the look of it --'' she pointed at my face -- `` you definitely saw it coming.'' I felt my face all over, to no avail. It was like feeling air. That's when I suddenly noticed that I could n't feel the ground beneath me, or the clothes against my skin. There was nothing to smell, and it struck me that I was n't breathing, either. 
 
 `` Holy shit, I'm actually... dead....'' 
 
 `` Yes. As for the form,'' she continued politely, `` you'll find it in your shirt pocket.'' I reached in and produced a small, yellowing scroll, sealed in blood-red wax. I slowly handed it to her, still reeling from the realization that I really, truly had died. And that I was on a Winnebago. A thought occurred to me: I turned to the driver's area. But instead of the elderly couple who were the last living faces I ever saw, there were two women, probably in their early thirties. 
 
 `` This is the RV that hit me, right?'' 
 
 `` Oh yes. According to your disposition statement, the last words you ever uttered as a living creature were -- and I quote --'damn it all to Hell'.'' So the processor decided to damn this vehicle by having you haunt it.'' 
 
 `` Forever?!'' I cried, not relishing an eternity in a Winnebago. 
 
 Oh heavens no,'' she chuckled. `` Only until it is destroyed. After that, you get to disappear into eternal rest.'' 
 
 `` Oh... Well, that does n't sound so bad. How do I haunt this?'' She simply shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 `` Not my department. I just process the 12-324 forms. I'm sure you'll figure something out. My advice is just to focus on one thing, do n't try to do too much.'' She stood up from the bed and gave me a thumbs-up. `` Best of luck to you, sir.'' 
 
 `` Hold on,'' I said. `` How long have you been doing... All this?'' She grimaced, her face screwed up in concentration. 
 
 `` One hundred ninety-eight years. Only two to go.'' 
 
 `` Why so long?'' 
 
 `` The money's good,'' she stated simply. And in an instant, she was gone. 
 
 ~~~ 
 
 The funny thing is, Melissa and Juliet were really cool people. Sure, the first day was awful. I'd tried everything I could think of: screaming as loud and as long as possible ( you can shout until the sound of your own voice annoys you, saying as you do n't need to breathe ), banging on walls ( you'll actually push yourself through solid material before you make a sound ), and making things go haywire ( I can affect small electronics and electrical systems, but the worst I did was give the radio a bit of static ). 
 
 By the end if the third week, I was exhausted, mentally if not physically. While I did n't need sleep, I still took naps to alleviate the boredom. I slept on the floor of the Winnebago since I could n't feel discomfort anymore. I had been sleeping on the bed out of habit, but the second night I'd woken up to them having sex. Even though I was dead, I thought they should have a bit of privacy. 
 
 I learned a lot about them, being forced to listen to their conversations. They'd bought the Winnebago from the old couple who'd killed me, and were driving to Portland. Melissa had a ten-year-old daughter at a private school there who Juliet was in the process of adopting. They were both allergic to cats and loved country music. ( I never said it was a fun trip. ) 
 
 I ended up not trying to haunt the Winnebago anymore; not only was it futile, but I had a lot of reading to catch up on. Did you know that when authors die, they're given the option to keep writing? 
 
 In fact, I was on the twenty-fifth book in the *Lord of the Rings* series ( the one where Gimli's grandsons journey back to Middle Earth to rescue a kidnapped Legolas ) when I finally figured out how to haunt the damned Winnebago. By accident, no less. Melissa's ( and Juliet's at this point ) daughter Madysynn was along for a drive up to Seattle. Juliet was standing near me, making sandwiches in the kitchenette. Madysynn turned around in the passenger seat and shouted `` smile!'' I was caught by surprise as she snapped a photo with an old-fashioned Polaroid instant camera. Thinking nothing of it, I continued reading as two of the grandsons sang a lamentation over the body of the third. 
 
 `` Hey, look at that,'' Madysynn said. `` Does that look like a guy's face?'' I froze instantly. No way.... I got up and crept to where she and Juliet were sitting, watching as the photo developed. Juliet appeared slowly, holding a sandwich and grinning. And sure enough, right where I was sitting, there was a vague, blurry form of a person. There was no detail to it at all, just an outline and two dark circles for eyes. If I had n't personally been sitting there, even I would n't have guessed it was me. 
 
 `` Ehh,'' Juliet said, `` it's probably just a bad spot on the film. It's got ta be 20 years old by now.'' Madysynn looked disappointed. 
 
 `` How do you know it's not a ghost?'' she asked. Melissa laughed. 
 
 `` How on earth would an RV be haunted?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know,'' Madysynn replied, `` maybe it hit someone and they died.'' Melissa and Juliet both went ghostly pale. `` Holy crap!'' Madysynn exclaimed, seeing the looks on their faces. `` Did someone really die?!'' 
 
 `` Maddy, honey,'' Juliet finally said, `` there's no such thing as ghosts.''
