[ WP ] Cemeteries all across the world start charging rent for their `` tenants '' . Evictions are beginning in your hometown for unpaid rent .

Last week, Grandma came back to live with us. I use the term `` live'' loosely; Grandma has been dead since I was fourteen. Being of modest economic standing, my family could n't exactly afford to keep her where she's been peacefully sleeping for the last eight years and seeing as she is no longer a *functioning* member of society per se, she's lost her precious resting place. The city delivered the eviction notice two days before she was to be exhumed. My brother and I helped my father clear a spot out in the corner of the basement - for temporary storage, of course - until we can either find a cheaper hole in the ground or bring ourselves to cremate her. 
 
 The first cemetery to start charging its dead rent was the Mt. Olivet cemetery in Detroit. It was a controversial attempt at pulling the city out its financial sinkhole. The policy wound up spreading like wildfire first through the remaining U.S. states, then throughout the Western world, and eventually to the rest of the world once the economic benefits became evident. As it turns out, no one wants their loved ones to come back to live with them. The dead are often not the most pleasant of company. 
 
 Take Trish - she was the first of my friends to have a loved one get nixed from their resting place. Her dad raised hell as soon as he got back home. I suppose it could n't have been entirely too peaceful to sleep in the basement of your old home while your widow slept upstairs with your brother. Trish stayed with me until her mother and step dad found Daddy Dearest a new eternal home. 
 
 Grandma was quiet her first night or two. Her bones are old and tired, no one expected she would bother with your typical disturbed spirit routine; not to mention we were never anything but kind to her in life. Especially me - I was her favorite grandchild, after all. That may explain why she came after me first. 
 
 Night three or four of Grandma's return home - time is hard to keep track of now - I awoke to the sound of the basement door creaking open. The cats' litter boxes are in the basement and we always left the door propped open, so the sound was no surprise. No, the surprise came when I heard my grandmother's voice floating through my thin bedroom door. 
 
 `` Kay, dearest,'' she said in a soft voice. It filled my ears and sent a chill down my spine. 
 
 `` I've missed you so, dearie. I'm so glad you decided to bring me home.'' The dead had n't caught on to the fact that it's not necessarily a choice when we bring them home. My doorknob began to rattle and twist as Grandma opened the door. I sat up in bed, holding the covers close around my neck and backing as far as I could into my headboard. 
 
 `` Hello, Grandma,'' I said, voice shaking in the sudden cold in my room. A faint shape crossed my bedroom and came to rest at the foot of my bed. I stared at it, and it at me for several frozen moments. I felt a hand come to rest on my leg, outside of the covers. I could smell her perfume, a pleasant gardenia musk, the same one she always wore in life. 
 
 `` It is so nice to see you. You are as beautiful as I remember.'' 
 
 `` Thank you, Grandma,'' I blushed. *This is n't so bad. * 
 
 `` How I wish I could still be a part of your life.'' 
 
 `` You still can, Grandma,'' I said, reaching out to touch her hand, but there was no hand to touch. I blacked out. 
 
 That was a day or two ago, maybe ages now. Eons. I do n't quite remember what followed, but I awoke the next morning in the basement, thinking I'd sleep walked. But no - there I was in my room, getting ready for work. I stood confused in the doorway until I smirked at myself and brushed by. I caught a whiff of gardenia musk as I watched myself leave the room.
