I died in 1894 during a fire that broke out on the second floor, south-wing of the Union Station Depot in Denver, Colorado. The building is a train station and I see so many people come and go every day. There is always a wide variety of different people who pass through here for the morning and night trains.
I prefer to roam about at night when things are quieter and most everyone has gone home for the evening. I almost never have the entire place to myself and I am a very shy revenant indeed. I am mostly harmless, but I have been known to be aggressive when angered.
I forgot to introduce myself; my name is Sarah Millerson.
I wish I could pass on to the next existence, wherever that may be, and I was sure I was heading for heaven, but some how I got caught here. Now I linger about this old building as a restless spirit of the night.
There is usually a lot going on around my haunt; my haunt is, of course, sadly limited to the interior of this train station and its immediate grounds just outside. I have found I can not travel much further than the gateway leading in, nor can I go beyond the passenger boarding platforms in back. I am bound to this place, for reasons unknown to me, but I long to travel out and to explore the city as it now stands. So many things have changed, around this station, in the last century and I am curious to see how people now live and carry on with their daily affairs.
I have been a ghost for over a century and I have seen so many changes in the architecture of the buildings that surround this one. Also, the people that come through here are ever changing in fashion and mannerisms. I am constantly fascinated by this and spend much of my time just observing their rituals within the train station. They are so lucky, they have no idea, to have their freedom to move about as they please and travel to other destinations far and wide. Tonight, I look out the window and pray someone will die in my midst. The other ghosts that used to haunt this place have moved on. I am so lonely. Oh how I wish for company. Won’t you join me?
I don't believe that ghosts exist, in spite of all the hullabaloo in the media about them. There also are so many eyewitnesses out there, who for one reason or another, claim that they have seen ghosts. I have seen images flash by in half sleep, but I know, that they are conjured up in my brain, like dreams as part of my memory rearranging from short-term to long-term.
Given that, Sarah's description of her surroundings is rather prosaic and falls flat for me. Even the come on to join her, doesn't encourage me to read further.
The fortunate inherit riches, prestige, positive notoriety. Those not so lucky bear legacies filled with poverty, infamy or, worse yet, the unhinged insanity and murderous urges of their ancestors.
