The times we’re living in right now are incredible. Every night, living in the city, I imagine how much longer it will be before bombs begin going off along the I-35 corridor. That’s by no means a threat to anything or anyone but, if I were wanting to win a game of Command and Conquer, I’d take out the enemy’s supply line. Video games are what I know.

Regardless, this isn’t about details of some idiotic future war; it’s about promises. Promises and friendship. The kind of friendship that makes you cry. The kind of crying that gives you hope.

You see, once upon a time, I was a ghost hunter. As hokey as that sounds now compared to then, it helped shape the beginnings of my writing career. As expected, I had fans and haters. It was in the infancy of social media. Myspace, if you will. It was a hot mess, but it was loads of fun.

One of my oldest, dearest friends hated my ghost hunting obsession with a passion, but it never strayed my interests. Eventually, my cohort in said ghostly activities and I split sheets and I’ve touched it not since 2016. A decade to be exact. That sentence is convoluted as all hell, and I applaud those who managed the muck. Let’s continue.

Within that decade, my dear friend was diagnosed with cancer. We’d both moved on in our lives; happily but in different directions. Throughout those last couple of years, I would get a butt-text in a near-quarterly regularity; new phone who dis; oops, hope all is well, and that was the end of it. We knew each other were happy, and that was enough. Thus is life. I’m finally, truly happy. Like, tears of joy happy.

My friend passed away a few weeks ago, and I had yet to shed a tear until this moment. This is how it went.

So, back in the day, in a Myspace argument, my friend told me that she’d find a way to contact me to let me know if everything was all right and, if she was able to do so, she would do such “thing” three times. It was an agreed code between the two of us nearly twenty years ago. Silly Myspace.

Anyway, when one of us died, whoever died first would find a way to contact the other as agreed upon by fictional designation. Translation: some shit we saw in a movie once upon a time.

As I was drifting off in my computer chair, playing the original Castlevania, I thought back to high school.

Chilling in the summer time at my friend’s house playing Castlevania on the NES and listening to The Cure on her cassette player; the music from the game would put us in a trance of sorts with the repetition. In those days, we had our whole lives ahead of us. Our paths parted, and never again did those paths meet.

As I revisited these thoughts, my left pinky finger flicked a button, pausing the game. I didn’t think much of it so I continued playing. It happened again. This time, it felt as though something physically manipulated my left pinky. I continued my game.

Then, I began to vibrate on a bit of a separate frequency (like the bass in my subwoofer were suddenly increased for no reason, and my fingers just took over. Then, I got cold and felt sick. Concerned, my wife handed me a hoodie. In late August.

On the third tap of the button, I paused to investigate any specific language that would clue me into why the game was behaving in such a way. The screen flashed “return?”

Then, it did it twice more asking the question, “return?”

In that moment, I heard my friend’s voice in my left ear. She said, “Yup!”

Same as she would to any question when she would sarcastically agree in our teen years. I’m certain it was her voice. It’s unforgettable.

It all sounds like a bunch of coincidences; I know. Do we return and can we contact each other? Well, since she passed away before I did, it was her duty to try and contact me. I truly believe she just did.

The mixture of the old videogame music looping through my subconscious; vibrating on a frequency only shared with past energy. I know this sounds crazy, but…

What if?

I began typing as though I weren’t in control of my own fingers, and now, we’re in that exact moment. She wanted everyone to know that she is fine. She wanted everyone to know that you do come back, and that she is happier now than ever before. Being who I am and what I’ve done in the past, I know it all sounds cliche, but it’s true. Every last bit.

It won’t matter, because I’m not sharing this in a place where most people could find it. It will find the people who need it. She will find a way to lead you to this page where you will be able to read it.

I have a feeling in my chest that I haven’t felt in ages. I hadn’t felt it since I ghost hunted with my ex-wife from 2005-2015. I know what it felt like to be physically touched by entities.

She wants those who see this to know that she is fine, and that you come back.

Suddenly, as I wrote the words, the tightness of my chest started to loosen, and a peace came over me. A tear left my eye, and I’m not the cryin’ type.

She is happy. She is pain-free. She is love.

Return. Return. Return.

Then again, as far as anyone knows, this is just some trippy stuff I made up off of the top of my head. It’s what writers do, and I am exactly that. Still, I know what a paranormal experience feels like, and I hadn’t had one in almost ten years until just now; if that makes sense.

I felt as though she entered my body when I had the epiphany. Then she answered my questions as simply as possible. I know I’m rambling, but I’m trying to remember it all before I forget some of it.

Regardless, I’m posting this here on my writing website and, whether or not it’s real is entirely up to you. Always leave yourself a back door escape clause because we’re living in a police state. As above: if you know who I’m talking about, this link will find you via her paranormal hand and not mine. I’ll even call it “Unlisted Number”. Only Gen X people would know about that, right? People can’t have unlisted numbers anymore, can they?

I feel her pulsing through my body. She is good. She is love. We come back.

Now I have control of my body again and there are tears in my eyes. I physically feel as though I’d been holding my breath for a very long time or doing a bunch of silly sit-ups from back when I was in the military. That’s what it always felt like when I was in a location with a lot of paranormal energy a long time ago. It’s a feeling you never forget. Maybe the same as holding your breath for a long time under water.

Then, there was a “poof”, and my ears popped. She was gone.

I went into some sort of trance, I heard her voice, and she typed her message by using my fingers on this keyboard, and she left to go do other spirit things; whatever those things may be. I mean, why wouldn’t she come to me to send the message? I never said I was a paranormal expert all those years ago. Who would you use as a basis of comparison whose career hasn’t flopped by now? Still, I knew ghost things.

Regardless, I haven’t felt paranormal energy like that in a very long time, and it was pinpointed via a predetermined code she and I made as kids. She said she’d come back to tell me everything was all right, and she did exactly that. I’d only felt a partial possession all those years ago by putting myself into the most idiotic situations. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more; myself or those who find their way to this post.

I’m not using names here, so this would be a specific discovery. Also, I’m not everyone’s favorite and no one cares. Geez, this sounds so Myspace 2007, doesn’t it? 2006?

And just like that; poof.

Off to do spirit things.

I feel better now that my stomach stopped hurting and it was nice to hear from her. She just validated what I already knew, but in a way only we agreed upon.

Remember the movie “Ghost” with Patrick Swayze? At the end, when Sam is typing words on the computer?

That film came out when we were in high school and we both went to go see it several times. It stayed in theaters for like six months, I think.

Anyway, we were on our way home from a date one night and determined through educated discussion that the “Swayze-keyboard-thing” would be the best way to communicate with each other if the other died first.

Our code would be, “Return”.

Three times.

Just like what the game did when my pinky felt like it was being manipulated, before the cold feeling and fuzziness.

Return. Return. Return.

I swear to a million alien gods that I have never thought of that moment in time at any other time during my life or spoken about it to anyone else until this very moment. It was a moment and quirky promise only she and I shared.

She promised, she delivered, she is good, she is love.

I knew; now I know. And now you know. You know who you are. At least, you will.

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.

Who you gonna call?

Now, she needs to go. Mission accomplished. I release her from her vow.

I’m happily married to a hot chick and I’ve still got a lot of “dirty” time left in me.

I’ve never been much of a third-party person. That’s what tripods are for. ❤️