Good Grief

By @tarajadestone

Good Grief

By @tarajadestone

End of the summer contest~

Chapter 1

As soon as I took a sip, I realized it was poison.

Now, you might be wondering how I know, or how I’m even telling you this story when I should be dead. Well that’s just it. I am dead. So you must be, too (or maybe I’m just a voice in your head and you’ve somehow managed to hear my nonsensical chatter). In any case, I might as well tell you my story since we’re stuck here together for the time being.

The problem with me is that when you tell people the truth, they just don’t want it. You’ll often find people muttering under their breaths about something I did or said (despite this, I’m quite the catch if I do say so myself). These fine people whose skin I get under, well, let’s just say things escalated real quick. Before I knew it, I was invited to a nice banquet hall (didn’t I tell you I’m beloved by quite a few?) for what should have been a splendiferous evening at the governor’s estate. Good grief, it was anything but. The governor was polite and offered me a drink. I didn’t refuse (of course looking back on it, it was awfully suspicious for me to spend the night at a stranger’s home). I brought the glass to my lips and as soon as I took a sip, I realized it was poison. I said this before, didn’t I. Well, it’s not easy getting over your own murder, so you’ll have to excuse me there. It’s kind of hard to imagine, you know? Of all the ways I could die, I died for a glass of water.

Now that I’ve told you my story, I’m wondering, how did you get here in the first place? I’m dead, aren’t I, and aren’t dead men not supposed to tell their tales? So one of us has to be a liar, and I don’t think it’s me.

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