If it were really
so easy, don't you think
a child could
annihilate
every last trace
of their tormented woe—and
supernatural angst
with a single,
unhaunted
look on its face—
decontaminating
the whole place,
not with a ray gun,
but with a simple,
piteous gaze?
You wouldn't need
to call the police
or one of those
crackpot ghost hunters
to come racing out
to haphazardly abolish
the calamities
of the goddamned
and reinstate
a clean iteration of the landscape.
But as it stands,
it's not as straightforward—or as
cinematic as that.
There are rules.
For instance:
1) nothing
which didn't happen
can ever happen
genuinely again. And—
2) no one can
make an everlasting decision
alone. It's only
all of those now living
together—who can
do that; and
more importantly,
2A) it's actually
all of us
now living
together—who have to.
