My five year old son always wants to eat pizza for lunch while I insist green vegetables to keep him in sound health. He always wins by saying dead people can eat whatever they want, it’s not like he’ll die again.
As expected, I saw another disgusting pile of my roommate’s hair clogging the shower drain. Irritated, I started to forcefully pull the strands out only to hear someone’s screams of pain screech out from the drain pipe.
My five year old daughter asks her mother to read her a bedtime story every night.
Her mother died five years ago in childbirth.
I was dancing in the studio alone, practicing Wendy’s part for our upcoming school play, when the music suddenly stopped. I was about to fix the sound system when I noticed that a dark shadow continued to dance just beside my reflection in the mirror, which surely wasn’t Peter Pan’s.
“Wow, your kid’s all grown up!” I said smiling and waving at the little girl who was grinning at me from the sofa. My friend, who I have not visited for years and who suddenly looked like she had a stiff neck, carefully asked me, “You see her, too?”
When the basketball team I’ve placed a $100 bet on won in the last minute of the game, I jumped out of my seat in celebration and chest-bumped my best buddy who was also rejoicing beside me.
Realizing what just happened, I abruptly stopped smiling and gaped at my late prankster of a friend who exclaimed, “I finally got you, man! You thought I was still alive, didn’t you?”
The little girl kept on crying, pleading and muttering, “I don’t wanna die, please, I don’t wanna die…”
I sighed at the sight of her and wondered how to let her know it’s already too late.
“I have to stop her,” I thought as my fingers closed on the handle of the kitchen knife and I started walking towards my sleeping parents’ room. And yet no matter how hard I tried, my body could only listen to the shrilling voice of its’ murderous new owner.
Proud to have finished my self-portrait because of how realistic and three-dimensional my image had looked using acrylic, I brought and presented my painting in our art school event.
As I expected, my teachers and classmates thought it was an amazing masterpiece but what confused me was when my art teacher excitedly asked me right after my presentation, “So who was your lovely subject?”
Angrily, I told the haunting ghosts: “Go to hell and stay there!”
The leader of the ghosts said, “Wish, granted” but not one of them left my apartment.
My throat was cut, my hands and feet bound, I slowly sank into the river as the world became darkness, my thoughts lingering around the dark shapes who threw me in.
And here I lie, telling my story to all I pull down, again and again, forever and always, till my ropes are cut.
…Later that day I received a message on my phone that said “You were the only one there, you know who killed me!” It was from my wife, she kept my phone number and charged my phone, after I passed away 6 months ago just to hear my voice on the Voice Mail.
The man screams, “Owww! Damn it, Marty! I told you not to leave your LEGOs lying around!” The old woman turns to the wife and says, “He is in great pain and anger.”
A man says to his wife, “Honey, can you tell the kids to be quiet? I’m trying to read my paper.” The old woman turns to the wife and says, “He has unfinished business.”
A few days after her funeral, he was heading to pick the kids up from school when he got a call.
It said “Don’t worry honey, I got them”.
As I watched the eyeless apparition stare off into space, I couldn’t help but ask, “What are you staring at?”.
It smiled and extended its mangled arms, reaching for something as it whispered, “The Reader.”
I saw her sitting alone at the table at the back, sipping a glass of wine, and went upto her and tapped her on the shoulders. She spun around, and when she saw me her eyes widened and she said: “Dear God, how did you get out from my head?”
“Good luck on your first day of school honey!” my mom yelled from the kitchen. Today would have been five years since cancer took her away from me.
Speechless,I was very happy to see my family again. I only wish I could have told them I wasn’t dead, before they closed the coffin lid and lowered me into the ground.
She packed up all my books and letters and bundled them away.
I wish she would destroy them; they are holding me to this plane.