There’s A Ghost at the North Pole

Dear Reader,

There are many speculations about what happens when someone dies. Some say that you go to a place called Heaven or Hell, where the one you go to is based on your actions in life. Some people believe you are reborn as someone else, and that depends on your actions in your life. Some people think that they will be reborn as themselves at a later time. Some people think that death is the end and there is nothing after. 

All of these are wrong. Lots of people were quite upset when they figured out their version of the afterlife was incorrect. It’s always funny to see someone just after they died realize their lifelong beliefs were all bullshit. 

I am a ghost. I was a human, but I died a long time ago. Now, I exist as a translucent entity of what I last looked like, going about the world. No one can see me, no one living, at least, but other ghosts can see me and I can see them. 

It’s quite crowded with all the living people and all the ghosts. It’s not just human ghosts, but animal ghosts as well. Anything that lived has a ghost floating around the world somewhere, trying to figure out what to do with their time. Most of the animals do the same thing that they’ve always done, squirrels scampering up and down trees, fish swimming in the ocean, birds flying in the air. They do this, even though they have an infinite amount of possibilities as to what they can do. You don’t need to drink, eat or breathe, so why do the same thing? 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

When I died and appeared as a ghost, I was a little disappointed because I thought it would be cool to be a ghost with a sheet on top of me and two eye holes. But I'm just the same old me, slightly hovering above the ground and existing within the same Earth. I try to mingle with the other ghosts, but it can be difficult with the time and language barrier. It also doesn’t help when you are in a very crowded area and there’s tons of people and ghosts, making it extremely difficult to hear what someone is saying. I went to Rome once because I had never been when I was alive. That was a mistake. 

Not only were there tons of other ghosts who wanted to see Rome and try to meet famous Roman emperors (celebrity ghosts have it rough as they’re constantly stalked), but all the people who lived in Rome stuck around because they didn’t know where else to do. You can usually tell how long a ghost has been a ghost based on their clothing and whether they stay in the same general area as where they lived. 

Because I lived in a time when most of the world was known to be inhabited, I decided to see as much of a world that I hadn’t seen before. I mentioned my Rome trip being an absolute disaster, but my favorite trip so far was going the farthest I could: the North Pole. 

I had thought about Antarctica, but I thought that would be a very popular spot among ghosts because it is so well-known. Also, I was curious about why Santa’s workshop was there in Christmas stories. However, unless I found some boat or flight that took me there, I was most likely going to have to walk. 

Using a computer at a local library, I discovered a way to go to the North Pole via Helsinki Finland. There, I would fly to Northwest Russia and take a boat out through the ice to reach exactly 90 degrees north. The one problem was that I would have to wait until June or July to make my journey. It was December when I decided to go, mostly inspired by the Christmas season and the snow on the ground where I was. 

Flash forward to six months later and I was at the airport to try and board a plane to Helsinki. Airports are not just horrible for living humans, but ghosts also use them to travel because contrary to popular belief, ghosts can’t fly. We can hover, but we don’t have magical superpowers that allow us to fly wherever and whenever we want. It can be crowded and you have to go through humans and ghosts to figure out when the next flight is for the place you want to go. I attempted to leave in the middle of the week and avoid the human rush, but many ghosts had the same idea as me. 

“This departure board is confusing! Why is it by departure time and not alphabetical order?” 

“When’s the next flight to Los Angeles?” 

“The human I just went through really needs a bath. Euch!” 

“What is the white thing in that person’s ear?” 

“AirPods.” 

“Air hogs?”

“No! AirPods you idiot!” 

“I can’t hear you!” 

“Shut up all of you! I’m trying to read where my gate is.” 

“Read faster! You all are slowpokes. I can’t read when there's three ghosts in front of me.”  

You get my point.

When I finally managed to see through all the ghosts and figure out how to get to Heathrow in London, I headed for my gate. Before opening the door to get on, which humans wouldn’t see happening, I looked at the people waiting for the flight. Some were on their phones, a technology I could not believe evolved from a box on the wall of a house into something out of Star Trek. Some people, mostly older, were reading, which gave me some hope for the future of this planet, but not a lot. There was one toddler, not older than four, running around the gate while their father (I presume, though I am not positive) chased them, most likely trying to tire them out before their long flight. 

After the middle-aged lady told passengers on the intercom that the flight would be boarding, everyone shot up and hovered (not like a ghost) by the entrance. As soon as that door opened up, I ran right through it, wanting to avoid the horrible process of boarding a plane. Through the tunnel I went, going through the flight attendants and one of the pilots standing there to greet passengers, and sat in the front row of first class, something I would have never been able to do when I was alive. There were several other ghosts on this flight as well, and they also wanted to sit first class because, well it’s first class. Two other ghosts sat in the same seat I did, one who was an older black man with somewhat modern clothing and one who was a middle-aged Native American woman whose clothes I remember seeing in museums. I had no idea why either of them was going to London because neither spoke English, or they just didn’t want to talk to me. 

I slept on the flight, which I didn’t really have to because ghosts don’t need to sleep, but what else was I supposed to do? I was a light sleeper so when the person who was sitting in the seat I was in got up to get their luggage, I woke up right away. Then I spent several hours at Heathrow where I discovered how to get to the air traffic control tower. It was quite a process because I had to take a keycard from someone high enough on the airport employment chain to open the door, which took a bit.

The view from up there is incredible: planes and gates in full view, woodlands in the far distance, and lots of buttons and other technological things that I don’t understand. Several workers in white-collared shirts did fancy tech things while talking to pilots through headsets similar to those used at a radio station. It was fascinating to watch them work, frantically talking to pilots while pressing buttons and doing things on a computer, which is a lot smaller than they were back in my day. 

As much as watching sweaty workers manage the entirety of Heathrow Airport, I had to make my next flight to Helsinki. Again, I went to see what gate I was at, which was even worse at Heathrow because it’s a connection point to so many places. There were at least ten ghosts inside of me as we pushed up front to look at the board. Luckily though, there were no ghosts on my flight to Helsinki, probably because they were all going to warmer places because, well it’s June. I sat in my first-class seat only having to worry about the human taking up that seat. 

After arriving in Helsinki, I used someone’s phone to figure out directions because as ghosts, we can’t interfere with human objects, so if I grabbed someone’s phone, they would still have it. It took a bit to find a phone that was in English, but I discovered one after about thirty minutes. After discovering that there was only one airport in Helsinki, I confirmed the next flight to Murmansk, Russia, which is where the boat would leave. Because I planned well, the flight was in a day, so I went to see if Helsinki air traffic control was different from Heathrow’s. It was not except that it was smaller and with fewer workers. 

Cue my flight to Russia, which had people going on the same trip I was, and I was closer to my goal. It was pretty easy to figure out what boat I had to take as I just had to follow all the tourists who didn’t look Finnish or Russian. Most of them were rich European or American people, wearing expensive winter clothes and having designer suitcases. The boat was quite large and completely made of metal, with a sharp front to cut the ice I assume. 

I stayed in one of the high-end suites, which had a large king bed, a sitting room with a television and refrigerator, and a bathroom with a nice shower. The people staying in the room I did were a middle-aged couple from England who spent most of their time out of their room except for sleeping. I was surprised to discover a pool aboard, which I did swim in because I had to swim in a pool in a boat. There were also some bird-watching opportunities, learning about different types of birds I saw through my binoculars: guillemots, arctic terns, northern fulmar, species of gulls, puffins, and even geese. Most of the birds were white or black, which made sense considering the area we were in was total ice. Several ghost birds I saw were the same breed, but there were also some I didn’t recognize. 

Cue five days of bird watching, sleeping, people watching, discovering the ship (there was nothing special about it to me besides the pool), and looking at the scenery. There’s no point in going through it all. The sixth day is the day that matters most. It’s the only day that matters. 

Then why did I go through the explanation of getting there? Well, I want all ghosts to go there someday and it is beneficial to pass on that knowledge to you. It took me a bit to figure out how to get there, lots of hours on the library computer, and months of waiting, so I want to expedite the process for you. 

On the sixth day, the ship arrived at exactly 90 degrees north. Everyone was very excited to be there, wearing their best winter clothes and gathering cameras to take pictures. There was a red arrow marker pointing to the ice that said “North 90°N Pole” and no buildings that could be Santa’s workshop, much to the disappointment of the three young children on the trip. While all the humans took turns taking pictures by the red arrow and exploring the ice-covered landscape, I saw a ghost I wasn’t expecting. 

Sitting right next to the marker a criss-cross applesauce was a ghost of a young girl, perhaps a teenager, looking at the ground. She wore a pair of light pink pajamas from perhaps 30 or 40 years ago, with a frilly white neckline around her neck and more down near her shoulders, making a half-circle shape on her chest. There were also several polar bear ghosts around the area, but I paid them no mind. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see another ghost up here,” I said, attempting conversation. 

She looked up to see me, staring at me for a few seconds and looking me up and down. “Yeah. You’re not the first to say that.” 

“Why are you here?” I asked. 

She slightly tilted her head, staring at me, baffled. 

“At the North Pole,” I clarified. 

“Because this is the edge of the Earth. There’s nowhere else farther.” 

“You want to be as far away as possible?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to leave. I can’t, so this is the closest I can get.” She looked around her surroundings, slightly frowning when she was done. 

“Why do you want to leave?” I asked a few seconds after she finished looking around. 

“I don’t want to be here on Earth. I don’t want to see the pain and guilt I caused. I want to go as far away from it as possible. Far away from them.” 

“Who? Everyone? I don’t recognize you as being famous.” 

“My family.” She looked at me with the same slight frown, holding back tears. 

I now understood her, nodding in acknowledgment. I could see the marks on what I could see of her arms, made before she died. 

“You’re young too,” she said, sniffling.

“Not as young as you. Some died younger than us.” 

“I know, but you're young for your time too.” She looked at my clothes. “1960s?” 

“1969.” 

“I see. How old were you?” 

“24. You?” 

“14. It was in 1986.” She paused. “I wish I knew what came after before I decided.” 

She looked at me, the tears starting to build up again. Mine were building up too. 

“I wish I knew too,” I said, blinking the tears out of my eyes. “But I didn’t have much of a choice.” 

She wiped the tears with her pajama sleeve. “I did.” She wiped her nose. “I regret it.” 

“We all have regrets, one way or another,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “Have you thought about exploring the world?” 

“I can’t go anywhere else.” She paused. “I have to be as far away as possible.” 

Despite my thoughts that she could learn from those ghosts and how their experiences are similar to hers, I knew it was impossible for her. It pains me when I see people die the same way I did, but at least I think to myself that it was quick. Hers was, in theory, quick, but also long and painful in a different way. 

“So I stay here,” she said, trying to fill the void in our conversation while I was thinking. “I sometimes see other human ghosts, but most don’t understand me. Not just in language, but in, well, understanding my choice.” 

“I understand.” I did. 

She smiled. It was the first time she smiled in a while. I could tell because the unused muscles made her smile slowly. 

“You’re boat’s about to leave.” 

I turned around and saw the tour returning to the boat single file via a metal ramp.

“Let’s go! Don’t bring in any snow!” yelled one of the workers. 

The three children on the tour rushed through me and onto the ramp, which had less than ten people on it. I looked back towards her, and she was looking at me. 

I waved and yelled, “I’ll come and visit!” 

She smiled back, even bigger than before. I regretted leaving her, but I’d be stuck in the North Pole if I didn’t. I walked towards the boat ramp, entering as the last tour guest did. 

I hope that you take the opportunity to visit her up at the North Pole because I don’t want her to be lonely all the time. I’m already planning my trip for next year and coming up with topics of conversation we could talk about. Being alone can be difficult, especially when you’re a ghost. 

I wish to alleviate some ghost’s pain of loneliness, so I started my own support group. We meet at the library in the kids' section with all the bean bags and small chairs on the second Tuesday of each month at 10 am if you want to come. 

Thank you for reading. 

Sincerely, 

James Ashbrook

I’m dead?