It’s not fair,” Leo
cried.
“ You can’t blame
yourself,” answered his mom.
Leo blamed himself for my
death? The idea was preposterous. But his slumped shoulders and
haunted expression seemed to indicate he carried that particular
burden.
Even though his family was
seated around the table, the atmosphere was nothing like their
usual cheerfulness. This view was more like a window display in a
post apocalyptic world. Leo’s mother and father sat oddly propped
up on opposite ends, Leo slumped against the chair closest to the
door, and his two sisters had their sagging backs to me. The table,
usually laden with plates of baked chicken, baked potatoes, honeyed
carrots, and buttered corn was instead covered with takeaway boxes,
some of them unopened. I didn’t need to stare too hard at their
faces to know they hung slack.
The tragic silence
stretched out forever, but at last Leo pushed himself out of his
chair. He managed to take two steps before he staggered into his
mom’s outstretched arms. His shoulders shook and his mom stroked
his head. In unspoken agreement, his father and sisters rose up
from their places and they clung to one another. No amount of
buzzing in my ears could drown out the woeful wails bleaching
through the walls.
And that was how the truth
of my death finally sank in.
***
Darkness pressed in around
me but the chill of night stayed at bay, adding proof to the
testament that I no longer possessed flesh and blood. With nothing
else to guide me – they didn’t hand out tourist guides for ghosts
though they ought to have done – I remained standing outside Leo’s
house until every light went out, and then I stayed long after
every light in every house in the street had been switched off, and
then I stayed a little longer because I was terrified to leave.
Where would I go? What was I supposed to do? Go home?
Images of my mom and dad
sprang to mind, and after witnessing firsthand how Leo and his
family mourned for me, what must my parents’ anguish be
like?
I willed myself to go home
and check on my mom, yet instead of being propelled home, other
images haunted me; a log cabin, a roaring fire, the surrounding
woods, the dirt track winding through darkness to the main
road.
When I opened my eyes, I
stood on the porch of the log cabin with the full moon’s light on
my back. The door stood slightly ajar and I could see inside. A
week ago the room had been aglow from the log fire and I’d barely
hesitated about knocking on the door to demand to know just how
much Leo loved me. I’d have given anything to turn back the clock
and do that evening all over again.
Dew had settled on the
windows so I knew the temperature had dropped. Mom would probably
have fallen asleep on the couch by now. She liked her cashmere
throw tucked around her knees and shoulders. Usually my job, I felt
a sense of grief that I wasn’t there to support her during this
horrible time.
Despite my ghostly body,
the serenity of the cabin demanded I tread softly. An easy feat for
a ghost; my feet made no sound as they skated along the
floorboards. Surely an apparition wouldn’t have concerned herself
with stomping as loudly as rats fighting over ceiling space. I
guessed it would take more than getting used to the buzzing to
getting used to being dead.
I quietly entered the
cabin and made it halfway across the living room when I heard a
trickle of footsteps, followed by a door gently closing and a piece
of furniture scraping along the wooden floorboards, alerting me to
a hidden presence. I was a ghost. I knew I hadn’t made the noise.
This could only mean there was a big animal in the cabin or else
I’d interrupted a poltergeist in the middle of redecorating. Scary
either way.
“ Who’s there?” I called
out.
Silence. Nothing stirred.
Most likely an animal, yet my nostrils tickled with the sense I’d
surprised something not animal. Listening carefully, I detected sounds
like chirping cicadas.
cried.
“ You can’t blame
yourself,” answered his mom.
Leo blamed himself for my
death? The idea was preposterous. But his slumped shoulders and
haunted expression seemed to indicate he carried that particular
burden.
Even though his family was
seated around the table, the atmosphere was nothing like their
usual cheerfulness. This view was more like a window display in a
post apocalyptic world. Leo’s mother and father sat oddly propped
up on opposite ends, Leo slumped against the chair closest to the
door, and his two sisters had their sagging backs to me. The table,
usually laden with plates of baked chicken, baked potatoes, honeyed
carrots, and buttered corn was instead covered with takeaway boxes,
some of them unopened. I didn’t need to stare too hard at their
faces to know they hung slack.
The tragic silence
stretched out forever, but at last Leo pushed himself out of his
chair. He managed to take two steps before he staggered into his
mom’s outstretched arms. His shoulders shook and his mom stroked
his head. In unspoken agreement, his father and sisters rose up
from their places and they clung to one another. No amount of
buzzing in my ears could drown out the woeful wails bleaching
through the walls.
And that was how the truth
of my death finally sank in.
***
Darkness pressed in around
me but the chill of night stayed at bay, adding proof to the
testament that I no longer possessed flesh and blood. With nothing
else to guide me – they didn’t hand out tourist guides for ghosts
though they ought to have done – I remained standing outside Leo’s
house until every light went out, and then I stayed long after
every light in every house in the street had been switched off, and
then I stayed a little longer because I was terrified to leave.
Where would I go? What was I supposed to do? Go home?
Images of my mom and dad
sprang to mind, and after witnessing firsthand how Leo and his
family mourned for me, what must my parents’ anguish be
like?
I willed myself to go home
and check on my mom, yet instead of being propelled home, other
images haunted me; a log cabin, a roaring fire, the surrounding
woods, the dirt track winding through darkness to the main
road.
When I opened my eyes, I
stood on the porch of the log cabin with the full moon’s light on
my back. The door stood slightly ajar and I could see inside. A
week ago the room had been aglow from the log fire and I’d barely
hesitated about knocking on the door to demand to know just how
much Leo loved me. I’d have given anything to turn back the clock
and do that evening all over again.
Dew had settled on the
windows so I knew the temperature had dropped. Mom would probably
have fallen asleep on the couch by now. She liked her cashmere
throw tucked around her knees and shoulders. Usually my job, I felt
a sense of grief that I wasn’t there to support her during this
horrible time.
Despite my ghostly body,
the serenity of the cabin demanded I tread softly. An easy feat for
a ghost; my feet made no sound as they skated along the
floorboards. Surely an apparition wouldn’t have concerned herself
with stomping as loudly as rats fighting over ceiling space. I
guessed it would take more than getting used to the buzzing to
getting used to being dead.
I quietly entered the
cabin and made it halfway across the living room when I heard a
trickle of footsteps, followed by a door gently closing and a piece
of furniture scraping along the wooden floorboards, alerting me to
a hidden presence. I was a ghost. I knew I hadn’t made the noise.
This could only mean there was a big animal in the cabin or else
I’d interrupted a poltergeist in the middle of redecorating. Scary
either way.
“ Who’s there?” I called
out.
Silence. Nothing stirred.
Most likely an animal, yet my nostrils tickled with the sense I’d
surprised something not animal. Listening carefully, I detected sounds
like chirping cicadas.
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