by Dave Barnowski
In a place where the living may not go, six souls looked lovingly down at Wayne Manor. Four of the souls who had left this earthly coil were male, while the other two were female. They appeared as they did in life. One of the souls was the essence of Philip Wayne, and the others were ones who had also died and loved him both in life and death.
“Well, brother,” said the spirit of Dr. Thomas Wayne, “you’re finally going to get your due.”
“They’re making too much out of what I did,” protested Philip’s spirit.
“Non, zat is not true, Philip — you did much good while you lived, and zee world needs to know it,” said a spirit in French-accented English who wore a highly fashionable style of clothing for the early 1940s.
“What’s done is done, Philip,” said the ghost of Martha Wayne.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you influenced your kids into reminiscing about me,” accused Philip’s spirit.
“I can’t do that, Uncle,” said Bruce Wayne’s spirit.
“Bruce, don’t lie to your uncle,” said the ghost of Selina Wayne. “You’ve had experience with influencing the living since you came here, and we all know it.”
“Bruce?” questioned Philip’s spirit.
“Sorry, Uncle Philip. It was something I was going to do in life, but I never got around to it. Claude is right, though; the world deserves to know that you were a great — no an even greater humanitarian than you were a capitalist.”
“All right, all right. It just goes against my grain. But I humbly bow to my family’s wishes, both living and dead,” said Philip Wayne’s ghost. “Just don’t expect me to like it.”
The End