The Ghost of Downing Street

Jon liked to body bounce. In the long years since the plague took him and virtually everyone he knew, he had mastered the art of slipping into a persons body and resting behind their eyes. He would stay for a time, just observing, silently nudging when he thought he could get away with it. Peoples drab lives were his entertainment. Their thoughts were his sustenance.

It stopped him feeling lonely.

He loved the 20th century. So much excitement, so many opportunities for leisure. Hosts who sought nothing more than entertainment, It all seemed sinful to a man from the puritan days of Cromwell. But with no hell (or even any other spirits) Jon enjoyed their pleasures vicariously.

Eventually he came close to the leaders of his land and the temptation was too much. He wanted to see inside this mind and see what his dreams were. Who knows? Maybe nudge him as well. Jon slipped inside during the morning shave.

Tony started, and looked into the mirror. His eyes turned dark red. He growled “Preoccupo.”

Jon ran.

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