I am Veronika and I volunteered for the afterlife about forty years ago. I had had lovesickness. The man who wanted me, I was not allowed to marry because my parents were against it. And I did not want the man I should marry. He was a few years older than me, a terrible boring and know-it-all. Well, I found the idea extremely romantic at the time to kill me with poison. I imagined myself being found in ivory pallor, amidst wild roses. As my parents begging me for forgiveness, cursing their stubbornness, kneeling beside me. Like the man who did not want to be mine, sank dead over me, and so on, and so on. In reality, the whole thing was a huge disappointment, and disgusting. For the first time I was sick of the rat poison. I had to vomit, had abdominal cramps and when I finally fought my body out, this was anything but picturesque on the vollgepotzten roses and my face was not noble pale or sweet. What lay below me was a ghastly crooked pudgy figure with a distorted grin.
Well, I have to admit, I was acting a bit premature at the time. My mother used to say that I would overreact in certain situations, that I would not be able to control myself quickly. This had been such a situation, but one that unfortunately was irreversible. At least my parents were crying, though probably more out of fright and disgust at the sight of me, just like my lover, who married his teenage girlfriend soon after my demise and fathered two cute kids. My romantic act ended as a disaster and instead of entering the much-vaunted paradise, I was informed by the upper spirit to the effect that I would have to act as a meadow spirit until further notice at the place of my passing.
Especially in the first years, that was a boring thing. I watched the fews, who now and then sneaked into the little meadow, scornfully listened to the lewd declarations of love they whispered in their ears and took an envious part in the tenderness they exchanged. Often I felt like the last idiot. It’s like this: we all die once, so why could not I just wait and enjoy life until then? After a while, I managed to free myself from my self-pity and plunged into work. At regular intervals, a gossip-bellied ghost brought me a list of assignments that I had to fulfill. As a rule, I should protect young girls from
The messenger-spirit remained mostly on an extended chat and I eagerly listened to his descriptions of world events, the latest ghost scandals and what I was particularly interested in, the experiences of my professional comrades, so the other meadow ghosts. From time to time, the jovial letterman told me, meetings of the individual spirits took place and about every five years, all the ghosts met for a huge celebration and exchange of ideas in the sky, the mightiest inn in the universe. At least something to look forward to. Sometimes I longed for some company. On the other hand, I also had fun in my job and many necessary tools. Magic for example. Like the other day, when a fifteen-year-old girl and his married lover sneaked into the meadow. So I turned into the girl’s mother and conjured the wife of the adulterer. As the two rolled in the most intimate embrace on the ground, we took “women” the two lovebirds in the shortage. The girl was almost frightened to death when she looked over her friend’s shoulder directly into my mother’s face. However, her terror quickly changed into defiance. “I love Toni, we stay together, whether you like it or not.” Thereupon I had nothing to reply, because Toni rolled down from the girl in a flash, jumped to his feet and stood directly in front of his angry wife: “This little bitch,” stammered the cowardly dog, ”
Again several years had passed and I prepared for the trip to the Milky Way to attend the meeting of the meadow ghosts. There was an exchange of ideas and various fun competitions, ie holidays. The hotel was a hit with every imaginable luxury. There was plenty to eat and drink, though we ghosts need neither food nor liquid. Nevertheless, it was nice to feel like a human again for a short time. However, the exchange of ideas did not mean that the ghosts wanted to have fun for some time. So I returned to my meadow in a good mood after the vacation and was looking forward to the next meeting.
But what was that? In front of my meadow stood a strange long-drawn house. And headlights dipped the whole environment in a glaring light. There was also an indescribable noise. Screaming people stood in front of the house behind metal barriers. At regular intervals drove large black sedans before, where more men and women emerged, each carrying a large suitcase with him. The crowd behind the barriers enthusiastically cheered the newcomers, who waved back and entered the house.
Throughout the hustle and bustle, I sat on the fence and eagerly watched the action. “Big Brother!” The people behind me screamed, “hello Big Brother”. Aha, so here was a big brother expected. Probably a high-profile political figure, perhaps an American movie star, like Cary Grant or Rock Hudson. In the course of the evening, however, I found out that the Big Brother was a novel television project in which ten young women and men had to live together for quite some time and the house in front of which a meadow – my meadow stood – could not leave. The whole thing was called Big Brother, the house where people lived, the Big Brothers container. Well, that was similar to me. I was not allowed to leave the meadow for at least two hundred years, except for the rare ghost meetings. Knowing from my own experience how boring such a life could be in the long run, I decided to pay a visit to the young people now and then and to advise them. Maybe there was a bit of joke every now and then. I just could not exaggerate the jokes. The whole thing could be really exciting. For now, however, I recovered on my lawn from the hardships of my journey home. Ghost meetings are quite funny, but I was no longer used to the bustle and quite well done. Slowly, the noise on the grounds ebbed, the night broke in, the people and the cameras went off. After a while, I got bored. Most of all, I was curious about the “container ghosts” I jokingly called them. Of course, they were not ghosts, they could not do magic either, but like I said, they were tied to this house, like me.
They sat around the big table in the spacious living room and chatted. They nibbled salted cookies and drank wine. I could feel tension and uncertainty behind her rapturous fussing, knowing that the constant presence of the many cameras scared them. A huge red fridge stood in the middle of the room. I quickly slipped inside to examine the many good things in it. You must know that I was a very glaring wolverine during my lifetime. Then I made a tour of the two rooms, put me in one of the bunk mattresses for fun and dozed a bit.
At first I thought, I dream, because I met Daniela’s two children, was very sad, but also excited. I wondered what that would be like if I had to leave the container first in two weeks, but I wanted to win so much, especially for my little ones. For a moment, it hit me suddenly, I had no children, no husband, let alone an ex-husband. Frightened, I floated against the ceiling – and was myself again. I had accidentally fallen asleep of container woman Daniela, and when she lay down, I merged with her thoughts. It would not have been that bad. Assume your identity, make sure you leave the house as soon as possible and then be free. Oh, dreams are foams. I do not think so, that the great spirit would have let me go so easily. But did I still want that, now after all this time? I pondered life, the world, and the spirit as I spotted the camera behind the wall. Now I felt like a joke. I floated behind the wall and came to a room where a man was watching two small screens. As I approached, I recognized the two rooms in which the inhabitants slept, nicely separated according to female and male. For a while I considered, then I took the form of sweet, gentle Janine with long blond hair. Dressed in a seductive negligee, I approached the bored cameraman, breathed a kiss on his cheeks, and stroked his thinning hair. He flinched and his eyes widened in shock. It was as if he had a ghost in front of him, which, strictly speaking, was the case. He squinted, rubbed his fingers against it, opened it-and still saw the blond beauty sitting on his desk. Feverishly he pressed some buttons on his keyboard, staring at the screen, saw Janine lying , looked back to me, back to the screen, rubbed his eyes again. I enjoyed myself amusingly, although I knew that bauble could bring me trouble. We ghosts were allowed to have fun every now and then, depending on the job we had to use magic, but we were not allowed to cause a stir. I could not stop myself anymore. Maybe it was the excitement after the ghost meeting, maybe the long, mostly bleak time before it. I dont know. Mercilessly, I tortured the man with more and more crazy mirages, while he sat frozen in his chair with his eyes wide open and his mouth open. I was in my element, sometimes I was walking up and down as a Remo with bare torso and short shorts, then again I sank to the floor with Eveline’s eyes. Finally, I let Nadim and Daniela drive up, while as Conny I shouted at the two terribly and performed a film-ready jealousy scene. Puff, out and over! I had gone too far. All of a sudden, the Dungeon Spirit stood in front of me, grabbed me roughly and locked me in a tiny musty ghost cage. Then he carried me away scolding. In the meantime, the screen man was put to sleep by a hurriedly called hospital ghost. When he woke up, he would remember the hustle and bustle, but dismiss it as a confused dream. Well, that was not so bad. The judge, however, saw it differently and banished me to a rigorous boarding school for difficult ghosts. “We have an important function to perform,” thundered the Judge Spirit, “and spirits that hurt the reputation of our community are relentlessly held accountable.” I screamed and cried, begging the judge for forgiveness, asserted at my ghost existence never to play tricks again. After three years at boarding school, my constant pleading had softened the stern judge, and I was allowed to return to my meadow. The container and people had disappeared by now, and the messenger spirit told me that BigBrother was a good thing, but over time it got boring. “Well, it’s a fast paced time, people are bored so fast today,” he sighed. Who did he say that to?
So I do my usual service again, save young girls and married men from stupidities and the like. Soon there will be a meadow spirit meeting again, and I can attend. Secretly, I hope that when I return, something as exciting as it did three years ago. Although I still shudder at the memory of the strict judge and the time in the bleak boarding school. But next time, I hold myself back, sure, maybe.