Toast Ghost By Daniel Cetina

The ghost left toast everywhere in the house. I’ve found slices of buttery brioche stacked between plates in the kitchen cabinet; dry pieces of browned sourdough lining the rim of my bathtub; and even stale remnants of garlic bread stuck in the couch cushions. I hired a priest to exorcise the place. He was reluctant to do it for free after I explained the nature of the toast ghost’s haunting, and he insisted on a donation for his time. I reluctantly agreed. The priest pulled a pocket bible from his briefcase, which I told him made him look more like a serious businessman than a priest. Performing exorcisms, he said, is serious business. He recited a couple of words — loud ones with names I couldn’t spell even if I’d wanted to — then sprinkled some holy water on my carpet. The air felt warm, suddenly like home after a long time of feeling not like home. I sniffed, then he sniffed, and nothing happened. With a sigh the priest said, “I’ve done all I can but give me a ring in the morning if anything happens, okay?” But when he opened his serious business briefcase to replace his bible, he froze. He looked at me the way you look at a spider crawling on the ceiling above your bed at night. “What is it?” I asked. Mouth agape, he slowly revealed a slice of burnt Challah bread. “You might want to call a Rabbi,” he said. But in the end I would never get around to it.

© 2014 Daniel Cetina

Daniel Cetina was born to a family of accountants, truck drivers, environmental biologists, and street fighters. A graduate of the University of California Santa Cruz, he has a BA in Literature and Creative Writing, and is the author of the short story collection, Come Crashing Down: Stories. He currently lives in Santa Cruz where he works as a video game writer. http://danielcetina.writersresidence.com

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