There I was minding my own business, snapping shots of my friends as we scurried through the ruins of Roman history, when out of nowhere this snowy vapor; this wisp of white light; this cloaked cloud of inconspicuous chalk swept across my lens as surreptitiously as Bruce Lee himself.
I was stunned for a moment. Angry at the thought that my carefully framed photo had been sabotaged by a supernatural ninja. But when I glanced down to see what sort of pixeled portrait I had captured, my anger swiftly spun into delight. I wasn’t sure at first, but after a second glance it was still there.
I had always heard stories of lost souls languishing around their forgotten stomping grounds, but I never knew what to believe. The closest encounter I ever had with a ghost was a quick quip at 4 a.m. amidst a marvelous acid trip. That didn’t seem to count, considering my brain was awash in LSD and my perceptions were slightly askew to say the least.
Despite whatever perceptive skepticism I had until that point, I was now a firm believer in animate apparitions. I just wish I had snapped the shutter in time for her to say cheese!
Stumble It!
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