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Description
Green surrounded me. It was everywhere. The walls were green, the ceiling was green, the furniture was green, even the floor, which was wooden by the way, was painted green. Different shades of green filled my vision. The emerald green curtains framed the thankfully not green windows, although it wasn't to say they hadn't tried. There was green glass paint peeling off the rather badly painted windows, but they still managed to get their sill to be green stone, and the frame was messily painted a dark forest green. The walls and ceiling were a light fresh green, like the skin of an apple and the floor was a pastel green. The furniture was mostly army green. In fact, the only things in the room that weren't green were the lights and switches, although they'd tried with those too, and me. My mouth was gaping through sheer amazement that so much green could be collected into one place at anytime, let alone being permanent.

I was starting to get dizzy from all the green. It was sort of all meshing into one and blurring together. My eyes didn't know where to focus and my head was starting to swirl, so I did the only thing I could really. I closed my eyes and tried to unsee green, but it seemed to have burned itself into my mind's eye and even closed, green was all I could see. Shaking my head, I did my best to try and get out of the room without opening my eyes. I did manage to get out, but it wasn't my fault I didn't see the stairs. It wasn't my fault that I tripped over the cat that wanted its feed. It wasn't my fault that I died. But either way, it's too late. I'm dead now.

I concluded my story proudly as I looked around the circle of my new-found friends. We'd all been gathering and telling the stories of how we died. So far, my story seemed to have been the least gruesome. Some of the ghosts there had really gory deaths, like the girl who had been hit by a car. Her head had detached from her body and rolled onto the verge, while her body had been dragged along with the car for another hundred metres. It was a hit and run, and they still hadn't found the driver who hit her. Her ghost resembled her in death, and occasionally we'd have to help her put her head back on when it rolled off. She normally tied it on with a scarf, but it sometimes got loose. All ghosts look like how they died, providing their body was mostly intact. If it wasn't, they would come back based on how they looked like before their death. My chest caved in from where I broke my ribs when I fell down the stairs. They'd pierced my heart and I'd died instantly. Even though I was a ghost, I didn't have any regrets. I just liked to hang around in the living world, even if the living couldn't see me.

Humans have the concept that ghosts are people who died with regrets, and I too used to believe that, but now I'm a ghost I know that's not entirely true. Some ghosts are dead with regrets, but the majority of us just like to hang around, like me. I went up to heaven and had a look around, but it got boring after a while, with everything being so perfect and all, so I came back down to have a poke around and play pranks on the humans. The world down here was far more interesting than up there. I mean, the people are lovely and the lot, but it just wasn't exciting enough. There are different religions in the world, so each person gets assigned to a different 'heaven' according to their religious belief. Because I told them I was atheist they simply assigned me to the Christian heaven because I grew up in a Christian country. I met God, and chatted to a lot of angels, but after a while their singing got to me because they never stopped. Apparently angels don't need sleep, but I still like my sleep! Whenever I tried to sleep, it would be restless and punctuated with voices proclaiming the almighty God and the virtuous Jesus. I have nothing against Christians but I didn't take very well to the environment, so I left and came back down here.

Many of the other ghosts I found gave me a similar story; heaven wasn't exciting enough so they came back down to mess around. We were doing a very good job of spicing up our deaths too. Just a few hours ago we'd hung around the most haunted house in Britain and waited for the next mystery solvers to come along. We'd pulled countless jumpscares on them, and the more powerful ones forced themselves to materialise and chased the unwitting humans around. I was laughing hard so I'm not sure if I saw correctly or not, but I think one of them wet themselves.

We'd had a riot and now here we were, relieving our last moments. It was easy to tell that some of the older ghosts had told their stories countless times, but that didn't make it any less exciting for us or them. The oldest lady's eyes gleamed with excitement every time she relieved her tragically comical death. She'd always been one for eating marshmallows; toasted ones were her especial favourite. One day she had been partaking in her favourite afternoon snack when it had most unfortunately gotten stuck in her throat and she died from oxygen deprivation. I felt a bit bad for laughing, but she didn't care. She laughed at herself and said that being dead was so much more convenient. She never had to worry about arthritis again, or about breaking a hip or something like that. Hospital and illness were not a problem and money and basic needs like eating would never have to be thought of again. Being dead really does have its benefits.

Description
Green surrounded me. It was everywhere. The walls were green, the ceiling was green, the furniture was green, even the floor, which was wooden by the way, was painted green. Different shades of green filled my vision. The emerald green curtains framed the thankfully not green windows, although it wasn't to say they hadn't tried. There was green glass paint peeling off the rather badly painted windows, but they still managed to get their sill to be green stone, and the frame was messily painted a dark forest green. The walls and ceiling were a light fresh green, like the skin of an apple and the floor was a pastel green. The furniture was mostly army green. In fact, the only things in the room that weren't green were the lights and switches, although they'd tried with those too, and me. My mouth was gaping through sheer amazement that so much green could be collected into one place at anytime, let alone being permanent.

I was starting to get dizzy from all the green. It was sort of all meshing into one and blurring together. My eyes didn't know where to focus and my head was starting to swirl, so I did the only thing I could really. I closed my eyes and tried to unsee green, but it seemed to have burned itself into my mind's eye and even closed, green was all I could see. Shaking my head, I did my best to try and get out of the room without opening my eyes. I did manage to get out, but it wasn't my fault I didn't see the stairs. It wasn't my fault that I tripped over the cat that wanted its feed. It wasn't my fault that I died. But either way, it's too late. I'm dead now.

I concluded my story proudly as I looked around the circle of my new-found friends. We'd all been gathering and telling the stories of how we died. So far, my story seemed to have been the least gruesome. Some of the ghosts there had really gory deaths, like the girl who had been hit by a car. Her head had detached from her body and rolled onto the verge, while her body had been dragged along with the car for another hundred metres. It was a hit and run, and they still hadn't found the driver who hit her. Her ghost resembled her in death, and occasionally we'd have to help her put her head back on when it rolled off. She normally tied it on with a scarf, but it sometimes got loose. All ghosts look like how they died, providing their body was mostly intact. If it wasn't, they would come back based on how they looked like before their death. My chest caved in from where I broke my ribs when I fell down the stairs. They'd pierced my heart and I'd died instantly. Even though I was a ghost, I didn't have any regrets. I just liked to hang around in the living world, even if the living couldn't see me.

Humans have the concept that ghosts are people who died with regrets, and I too used to believe that, but now I'm a ghost I know that's not entirely true. Some ghosts are dead with regrets, but the majority of us just like to hang around, like me. I went up to heaven and had a look around, but it got boring after a while, with everything being so perfect and all, so I came back down to have a poke around and play pranks on the humans. The world down here was far more interesting than up there. I mean, the people are lovely and the lot, but it just wasn't exciting enough. There are different religions in the world, so each person gets assigned to a different 'heaven' according to their religious belief. Because I told them I was atheist they simply assigned me to the Christian heaven because I grew up in a Christian country. I met God, and chatted to a lot of angels, but after a while their singing got to me because they never stopped. Apparently angels don't need sleep, but I still like my sleep! Whenever I tried to sleep, it would be restless and punctuated with voices proclaiming the almighty God and the virtuous Jesus. I have nothing against Christians but I didn't take very well to the environment, so I left and came back down here.

Many of the other ghosts I found gave me a similar story; heaven wasn't exciting enough so they came back down to mess around. We were doing a very good job of spicing up our deaths too. Just a few hours ago we'd hung around the most haunted house in Britain and waited for the next mystery solvers to come along. We'd pulled countless jumpscares on them, and the more powerful ones forced themselves to materialise and chased the unwitting humans around. I was laughing hard so I'm not sure if I saw correctly or not, but I think one of them wet themselves.

We'd had a riot and now here we were, relieving our last moments. It was easy to tell that some of the older ghosts had told their stories countless times, but that didn't make it any less exciting for us or them. The oldest lady's eyes gleamed with excitement every time she relieved her tragically comical death. She'd always been one for eating marshmallows; toasted ones were her especial favourite. One day she had been partaking in her favourite afternoon snack when it had most unfortunately gotten stuck in her throat and she died from oxygen deprivation. I felt a bit bad for laughing, but she didn't care. She laughed at herself and said that being dead was so much more convenient. She never had to worry about arthritis again, or about breaking a hip or something like that. Hospital and illness were not a problem and money and basic needs like eating would never have to be thought of again. Being dead really does have its benefits.