The Night I Met a Girl Ghost That Wasn’t There

We humans are expert ghost-makers.

When we dislike someone, we stitch together scraps of old grudges, rumours, and our own fears into a mask  then we call that mask the “real” person.

Here’s a tale.

A man walked at night, alone. The road was black as ink. Suddenly, ahead ________ a ghost! Floating, spitting fire! His heart froze. He ran until his lungs burned, bursting into his friend’s hut, swearing he had seen a spirit.

At dawn, he returned to prove it. There was no ghost - only an electric pole, wires sparking in the wind. The “ghost” had never been outside him; it had always been inside his mind.

That’s how prejudice works. Childhood stories, past hurts, gossip - they prime us to see danger where there is only a faulty wire.

The remedy?

Look without the ghost mask. See what is, not what your mind paints over it. Sweep your mind’s corners clean of old cobwebs, and people will appear as they are  , not as your shadows want them to be.