Hi. My name is Will. Apparently, I’m a necromancer.

You would think that I might be a little bit more certain about something like that. Magical practitioners apparently go through a lot of training in an apprenticeship. Again with the apparently. In this case ‘apparently’ is completely appropriate because I didn’t do any of that.

I was finally ready to renovate my house, so I was in a pinch for an apartment. I ended up in one that had a bunch of weird reviews. I did say I was in a pinch. It turned out that the apartment had a ghost. I sort of ...uh… well, maybe you should take a seat. I have quite a story to tell.

I should warn you first - since my divorce, my social life has been rather...unconventional. By that I mean, I have more than one lady in my life. I have a friend that is a madame. I keep getting chased by zombies. One of my girlfriends likes to be tied up. My story is a slice of life, so I’m afraid you’re going to get a fairly significant amount of detail on my sex life while I struggle to get my brain wrapped around what it means to be a necromancer.

If you’re likely to be offended by descriptions of sex, harem-like relationships, prostitution, the IT business, genatalia, project management, showering, domestic violence, cooking, going to the bathroom, women trash-talking each other, and probably about 150 things that I’ve become inured to…

...go have a good life somewhere else.

If you’re not worried about any of that, then pull up a chair.

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Ghost Story

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