The Ghost's Tale

The ghost grazed the edge of the stone with a dull blade, letting the sound play as the background chant for his tale. His voice cracked from the months it had not been used. Clogged by silence, he broke it with an uneasy voice. “I have been dead for nearly three years now. Although I'm not certain you would refer the state I'm currently in as dead. I'm still existing in this world, and have not passed on to the after life. I tread the earth, but it does not feel my feet. I struggle to be tangible, and even so, I feel nothing.” Slipping the blade back in his pocket, the ghost spoke with a dreary and solemn tongue. “But it was three years ago I was murdered. I cannot so well recall everything that happened that night, as it would seem that my memory of living is slowly slipping away. Of what I can reminisce is not so clear, but I shall make due to explain the moment of my death...”