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What about another time you were driving late at night, he thought, too late at night, driving with Ghost, and he had you convinced you'd driven into the ocean? Saw flying fish, starfish. Saw a swimming pool full of air.

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Ghost is from Missing Mile, North Carolina.

His best friend is Steve Finn. They live together in Ghost's grandmother's house on Burnt Church Road.

He's the singer for the band Lost Souls? and they play at The Sacred Yew every few weeks to a roaring crowd that never disappoints.

He's the grandson of Miz Deliverance, a white witch of great repute and a great beauty. He's the spitting image of her and has her gift, knowing all any living creature could of her secrets.

He drinks White Horse whiskey because Dylan Thomas was in a pub of the same name the night he died. He can't take over the counter medicine because it makes him sick; he uses folk remedies that work much better. His dreams give him strength, or make him laugh or make him cry or scare the shit out of him. He sees things that might be or might have been, things that were or weren't or should be. He lives half in the world of beers and guitars and half in the nevernever of his visions. Sweet and brave and pale and fragile-looking, his heart is always open and he hears the stories that sit on every street corner, that hide in every cold shadow.

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Ghost is a young man of twenty two years. He is small, pale-skinned and fragile with light blue eyes and white-blonde hair so thin and soft it's nearly transparent. He has a preference for whino wine and a love of old obscure patent medicines.

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Ghost is the creation of one Poppy Z. Brite from several works but especially from the book Lost Souls. This journal is for use in the LJ roleplay and is used for no profit of any kind, just enjoyment.

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