She lived within a broken neighbourhood, one of rundown tenements, chocked with wires and plugs, heavily polluted, occupied by tramps and lost people who squat, on the outside to other people this meant nothing but to her it was a lot. For she had seen and known many who had died here, she had got used to feeling the fear of living in this place called Ghost Town, she saw them walk the streets at night and heard their suffering sounds, and they saw her, and recognised her as a kindred spirit, knew she was trapped here and could never leave it. She campaigned hard to get some help here, she would spray canned graffiti, ‘ life over fear ‘ she would demand help is needed here, but nobody listened.
So she would leave the town dressed in black, tight jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket, with a mask that would cover her lower face, and a baseball cap, these clothes hid her beauty and grace and she would visit places of the rich, break into their houses, steal whatever was needed, to help the Ghost Town community, they called her the rat girl, so in return she would feed off their greed, and help feed others who she knew would soon be deceased. And add to the Ghost Town spirit depository. The called her an activist and a thief, to her she was just trying to survive and help others in need, I met her and I fell in love, joined in and helped her but it was never enough, no matter just how hard we tried, the Ghost Town people they still died, we would stand in the middle of the Ghost Town street, light up flares and start celebrating, the lives of those wasted, but we would try to find a way, to give their life meaning, in the broken neighbourhood, choked with wires and plugs, rundown tenements, heavily polluted, we still managed to conjure up love, among the tramps and the lost souls in squats, but especially within the past over spirits, this beautiful angel they called rat girl was inspiring me to work beyond my limits as she always had and always will, then one day tragically she fell ill, and died in my arms, what could I could I do but just carry her work on. Then one day the bulldozers came, knocked down the neighbourhood and forced. The people away, they built penthouse places for the rich but in Ghost Town, the spirits still at night roam it, and I still steal from them and take it to those who need it. And as I stand in the street with my flare I spray paint the walls saying ‘ the Ghost Town still lives here ‘ and I see her the one they called rat girl, wandering about this place, still so beautiful and full of grace, beckoning me on to do the same, as she had always done from the cradle to the grave.