As I descended the hall I could see that my form had started to ebb away into transparency. My skin and hair were lighter, mistier and I moved with the wispy edges of vapor swirling into nothingness. I rounded the corner and unemotionally observed my dead body lying on the sofa in the front room. My long coffee colored hair was streaming over one of the accent pillows and my tawny eyes were glazed over. When he had strangled my life away, my skin had turned a garish purple, but my features were still easily recognizable as my own. As full as my corpse was of unnatural color, he was a pale gleaming white.
He tossed a phone toward my spirit body. To my surprise I caught it, the last link between him and that into which he had transformed me in death.
“Dial it,” he snarled. I started to protest, raising an ethereal eyebrow at him. Spirits could not dial telephones. But before I had the opportunity to explain, I closed my eyes as I felt myself begin to fade further. Moments later I was free.