I watched with my hidden cameras outside the mansion as the woman told her friends that there was no such thing as ghosts before she bravely entered my abode alone.
She was right, of course. Ghost stories are complete hogwash, but that didn’t mean there weren’t dangers involved with coming into my home. I was a crazed hermit who had let my house crumble and my beard grow out as I ate nothing but canned food and worked on my machine. I didn’t take kindly to unwanted guests. So I fired up my machine and used it to possess her body. I suppose it was a very “ghost” like thing to do in hindsight, but I wasn’t dead! My body was still very much alive in the machine; I was just taking a ride.
The thing they don’t tell you about possessing someone is how much of their personality you keep. As long as I was in her body, I wasn’t a reclusive man, I was a brave woman. I felt confident! I felt stylish! I knew what had drawn her and her friends to this house, and I knew what kept me here; but now it was the last place I wanted to be. So I opened back up the front doors to greet her friends and to live her life. I don’t know how long my machine would hold out, but I could certainly hope for forever.
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