I’m trying to be rational. There are no ghosts. I am having delusions. I am not dead. I am not a ghost. This is the dream of someone who has suffered hypothermia. I have staggered into this shelter and collapsed and now I’m having hallucinations. Perhaps the voices come from people who have come to find me. Perhaps I am already in hospital, flown perhaps by helicopter, to safety and now the doctors and nurses are standing round talking, chatting. And the voices belong perhaps to my friends, standing round my bed with useless bunches of grapes. Is that why I feel no hunger – because I’m being fed by intravenous drip?
I’m trying to be rational. What other explanation can there be? Yet it all seems so real. These stone walls. I strike them with my fist. This fire. The ultimate test. I thrust my hand into the fire. Nothing. No effect. I hear voices in the wind
I’m frightened. THE END