If You Could Read My Mind, Love: The Ghost that Is Me

By Trjc

About the Book
If You Could Read My Mind, Love: The Ghost That Is Me tells the grand and humorous story of Sir Gordon, a Templar knight who was murdered more than 900 years ago by the lord of an ancient keep. Now Sir Gordon roams the grounds of the keep as a ghost, searching for companionship. When the daughter of the murderous lord appears tethered to a modern-day girl, Sir Gordon descends down a path of discovering the truth of his death, and the real nature of the people he once knew…

About the Author
trjc is a West Point graduate and Vietnam era veteran. He is a physicist, engineer, computer scientist, mathematician, and behavioral scientist, who spent decades in the defense industry after retiring from military service. When he is not spending time with his five grandchildren, trjc can be found writing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: May 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888128930

Book preview

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead; events; or locales is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by trjc

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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ISBN: 979-8-88812-393-5

eISBN: 979-8-88812-893-0

Disclaimer

All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead or anything between living and dead. If such exists other than in stupid TV shows, it is purely (or impurely, if you prefer) coincidental… especially if the real person is a really, really hot teenage girl… in which case, being a dirty old man, I really want to meet her… The one exception to this general declaration is when there are comments in the story about really, really handsome guys; those resemble me when I was a whole lot younger (I wish), although certainly not now… hey, I’m old; okay? I’m allowed to fantasize. You ever seen a really, really handsome old fart? Me either…

In fairness and in the interests of being completely transparent and honest (sort of…), sometimes the personalities of people I have known over the years have snuck into characterizations… as have the personalities of my cats from over the years, although I have treated the characterizations of cats much more kindly. Cats, unlike politicians, are generally honest, so they deserve to be treated with kindness… However, stereotypes being what they are, fictional characters inevitably fit into stereotypical personalities and roles; therefore, many of the people I have known over the years—and I’ve been alive for a long time—fit into those stereotypes, especially the assholes, so fictional characters within the story will inevitably seem quite similar.

The thing is that real assholes and fictional assholes are pretty much the same, y’know… if you’ve known any assholes during your life, you’re bound to find a character in this book who seems quite familiar. Refer to them subsequently by the names I’ve given them in this story; they won’t have a clue what you’re referring to and it will certainly piss them off, which is actually a good thing…

Foreword

Sometimes it’s hard to find my muse. Other times I’m inspired to start a story, but midway through I have no clue how to end it; that, by the way, is extremely frustrating. I usually have five or six novels in progress that start very well, with a plot, a theme, and a storyline in my head, but the motivation to complete them dies after the first couple of hundred pages. Just like paragraphs need connecting sentences to go from one thought to the next, chapters need connecting paragraphs to drive a reader from one mini-plot to the next. That’s easier said than done.

A few times, something in my life drove me to write on a subject, whether it was historical fiction, science fiction, fantasy, humor, or romance, and I went all the way through the project fairly effortlessly… until the last couple of chapters: the ending, as it were. It can be difficult to end a book properly; such was the case here. This is only a short novel and I’ve enjoyed writing it, but the plot-twist at the end was more difficult to put together than I expected, requiring days of rewrites of earlier parts of the book to fit the final narrative.

In any event, the inspiration for this book came from a favorite song by Gordon Lightfoot, coincidently one of my favorite songs of all time (from back when I was in high school). His melodious voice always told stories; for this particular song, it was written after he’d gone through a divorce. For a song more than 50 years old at the time of writing this book—okay, that’s a clue for how old I am—it may surprise some people that it could impact me the way it has. As such, the story is written in first person.

Beware of dragons, for you are crunchy and go well with ketchup.

trjc

Prologue

If you could read my mind, love, what a tale my thoughts could tell,

Just like an old-time movie ‘bout a ghost from a wishing well,

In a castle dark or a fortress strong, with chains upon my feet.

You know that ghost is me.

And I will never be set free as long as I’m a ghost that you can’t see.

If I could read your mind, love, what a tale your thoughts could tell,

Just like a paperback novel, the kind the drugstores sell.

When you reach the part where the heartaches come,

the hero would be me.

Heroes often fail.

You won’t read that book again

because the ending’s just too hard to take.

I’d walk away, like a movie-star

who gets burned in a three-way script.

Enter number two... a movie-queen to play the scene of

bringing all the good things out in me.

But for now, love, let’s be real...

I never thought I could act this way

and I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it;

I don’t know where we went wrong, but the feeling’s gone,

and I just can’t get it back.

If you could read my mind, love, what a tale my thoughts could tell,

Just like an old-time movie, ‘bout a ghost from a wishing well,

In a castle dark or a fortress strong, with chains upon my feet.

The story always ends...

If you read between the lines

You’ll know that I’m just trying to understand

the feelings that you lack.

I never thought I could feel this way

and I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it;

I don’t know where we went wrong,

but the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back.