Spoiler! :
Dead is dead. That used to be my motto. How fucking naive I was back then. You cant say dead is dead when you watch the first come-along-car with some do gooder put the white sheet over you. Or how about when paramedics bag you and load you on up? Ever watched your own funeral? No? Well I have. Its far from fun. I got to be there to watch my mom ball her eyes out front row while some bullshit preacher read his life and death sermon. I got to be there while they put my box in the ground. I got to be there when life went on even after mine didn't. Dead is far from fucking dead. After death for me has been nothing but boredom and loneliness. Fun fun fun. It's been a little over two years now, quite the learning experience. You learn all kinds of things. The first few months are crucial to this. This is the time you see your room packed away, your girlfriend grief-whoring herself around, and your family being able to enjoy the empty space that used to be you. Its not A Wonderful Life, it's A Wonderful Death.
I wouldn't call myself a ghost, and neither should you. Now that I'm the one haunting the earth, it's very disrespectful. At this very moment I'm sitting on my own grave stone. Like one of those irony pictures. There’s some girl sleeping on my plot. She does this a lot. She dresses pretty goth-core. Maybe it's her thing, sleepin’ on the grave of guys she never knew. I saw her at my funeral too. I could care less though. Today I continue my project. I've been doing this thing for the last three days. See, my step dad, he listens to classical and stuff. Well anyways he has some crap wagon that still uses cassette tapes. Day after day I've been working on switching his Chopin tape with one of my bash metal mix tapes. He gets in his car, BLAM! His eardrums get blown by music he absolutely resents. Whole time, I'll be riding shotgun. Anything to fill my time. The problem is, I can still interact with things, but they weigh like a million fucking pounds. So this one has taken awhile for me. Not a ghost, but more along the lines of poltergeist.
I stand up from where I'm sitting and start to walk across the grass from my grave, and then I stop. Time for impulse. I walk back and stand over the girl on my plot.
"WAKE UP YOU STUPID BITCH! JUST GO THE FUCK HOME! YOU DONT EVEN FUCKIN KNOW ME! GET A LIFE!" I'm pretty pissed for no reason.
Something shocks me so much that i actually fall to the ground, like opening a FedEx package with a head in it or something. I shit you not but the girl wakes up like someone just kicked her in the face. She looks at where I'm sitting.
"Can you actually hear me? Do you actually hear me?!" My hearts racing.
She begins to look around bewildered, just all over the place. She gets up and grabs her bag and leaves. Right now God is probably laughing at me. She didn't hear me. This whole situation screams disappointment.
I stomp off through the cemetery to make my rounds for the day. I gotta’ be back every six hours though, because after that things start to get weird. It's like fog. The longer I'm gone from my body the thicker it gets, the harder to find my way back. Batteries for the soul, holds a charge for up to six hours. My to-do list for today is:
-See family(assholes)
-See friends(assholes)
-See exgirlfriend(whore)
-Look for that kid from The Sixth Sense
Yeah, wishful thinking, I know. Knowing my luck there’s nobody out there like that.
You wanna know what I did one time? I followed a team of paranormal investigators around. Took awhile to bait them into town though. The trick is, you don't haunt the crazies or the normals, haunt the bible thumpers. It's easier to do depending on the lunar cycle. For instance, the night after a full moon you can be kind of seen, like that apparition shit. The only problem is it drains your batteries quick, real quick. Just like moving things, or making yourself heard in recordings.
Well I did most those things. For my first apparition I chose to show my bare ass to the United Bibles lady. First thing she does is puts in a phone call to friends at the church, next I start moving furniture. Then what do you know but a few exorcists come in, and they always bring paranormal investigators. They bring in all their fancy equipment and I do my best to be seen and heard. I thought it was pretty funny when they played back there audio loops only to hear 'Eat a dick'. The faces they made were hilarious. Other than that it was a waste of a month.
I also tried to haunt a mind shrike. That was pretty fun. Until I found out she was a fake. I about fogged myself good smashin’ her crystal ball bullshit factory.
I've also tried killing myself, each time I end up where I started, or ended if you will. For all the bad I've done before this, loneliness is my only hell. A step in front of a hunter, a nap on the train tracks, skyscraper sky dives. You name it, I've done it. Each time though, I always end up back on the highway. I hate how I never once saw a wreath there. Everyone else passed on, why can't I?
I'm walking through my old house. Here and there I look at other reminders of how life's gone on. The pictures have changed. I can't find one with me still in it. The only pictures now are my family smiling on a beach, or dressed in thick winter jackets at some top shelf ski resort. I stop at the trophy shelf on my way through the living room. All I see are medals and plaques and certificates. Academics, sportsmanship, citizenship. None with my name on it. Truth be told I never one anything or really achieved anything. Not nearly as depressing. I start to laugh a little. I walk all through the house, the mood's slightly more upbeat than what I left it. Walls painted, new furniture, nicer things. I make my way to the basement, my room. All my things gone, now just a lounge. Theres a few exercise sets here and there. The wall covered in framed portraits and pictures from my little sister.
"This ices the hell outta my cake." I chuckle a little.
Everyone makes there way home from whatever they were busy with. My mom's tupperware parties, My step-dad's poker night, little brother's baseball game, little sis's painters' workshop. It must be dinner time. I sit with them and watch them enjoy a meal at the table, a family meal.
"So had the game go, Brett?" My mom asks
.
"I could've pitched a perfect game," He says grinnin’ and nudging’ step-dad, "But I wanted to let everyone else on the field play."
Whoop-di-fuckin-doo.
"How was painting sweety?" Step-dad asks.
"It went pretty well." She says smiling too.
What a full home.
"I got a question for you guys," I jump up on the table shouting, "Why the fuck has
nobody been out to see me in over eight months?!"
"Think you guys are going state this year?"
"No doubt!"
"I'm still around assholes! Doesn't anybody even miss me?!" As much as I try, all I can do is manage to kick a glass of water across the table to break on the floor. The smiles stop. Silence. I stomp my way out of the house, pulling pictures off the wall to the floor on my way out. Every thing starts to go hazey. Was I ever even alive?
I make my way back to the cemetery before it got too cloudy to see. That girl is back again, sitting against my stone.
"What the fuck? Does that look like a recliner or somethin," I ask, "Get your ass off my face!"
She sits there unaware anyone is talking to her. Jamming through headphones to something sad sounding.
"Whatever, I don't care anymore."
She sits there looking out across the grass. Something about her seems familiar.
"You wanna know a secret?" I ask, "Ok, so I had this friend in the I.C.U., he cracked his dome dirtbiking or something. Well anyways, I stopped by to see him. I'm going down the hall to his room, right? And this old bird starts calling for me from his room," I digress, "So I ask him if needs anything, and he looks up at me, like this," Istoop in front of her and do the eye to eye gesture, "And he goes 'Put me out.'. I asked the old man what the fuck his problem was. He said all he did was feel pain anymore. Too old to go on. So I snuffed him with a pillow, true story. Maybe thats why I'm here, for killin’ that old guy."
I can feel sadness on my own face, but the odd thing is, I can see it on hers.
"You know I'm still around, don't you? Thats why you come here." She picks up her things and storms off, the sound of dangly metal and fast walking making a comical sound.
What the hell is she doing this, hardly anyone I know showed up to see me put in the ground, but she does. She's here every day. I don't know her, but I think I do.
"You’re a bitch!" I shout after her, mad again.
"So, me and you, together forever, eh?" Nothin’ like knowing it only took two weeks for your girlfriend to hop dicks after you’re gone.
"So much for love." I say to her.
She's laying on the couch with some new guy. I just sit on the arm of the couch and watch, and laugh to myself. She was always easy. I never had doubts about that. Their hands all over each other. It reminds me of rock'em sock'em robots, when the two robots get too close and all they do is fist each other. Fuck'em suck'em grief whore. I sit there and watch her, her and gangly-ass him. She could've done better for herself. Oh well. Giving a fuck about her would be one fuck too many.
"So you plan on bagging the entire chess club?" I laugh, and then feel wetness roll from the corner of my down to my upper lip.
Saying I actually cared would only be half a lie. It's kinda bad when you know things go on without you. All I am to these people is a rock now, a rock and a patch of nice grass. She brought a date to my funeral, yah know? I can remember shouting at people, trying to get any lick of attention. It's funny how long you try to convince yourself youre not dead by trying to convince others. The steps of grief is in the opposite order when youre the dead one.
"You didn't even cry!" I shout, "I did so much for you! And you can't even push out a single tear you BITCH!"
My routine's been the same for awhile now. There’s hardly anything new for me. I get angry all the same, I get sad all the same, I get disappointed all the same. Sitting on my stone I stare the thousand mile stare I always stare. It's always the same. The girl is still on my plot.
"Please go play dead somewhere else," I say, " this is my spot. I beat you to it. Everyone else got over me, why cant you? I didn't even know you!"
She looks up at me from where she's lying, I shit you not she looks right at me.
"I know its weird, but I can still feel you. Ever since that day, ever since you died." She says. I'm the one who's just seen a ghost.
"I'm still here!"
"Sometimes I think I can hear you, I know youre here."
" I am you dumb bimbo!"
She leaves once again.
"I don’t want to be alone anymore!" I call after her, she looks back.
My friends haven't really changed at all. Friends always stay the same, a death to them is just a reason to tribute drink. My stop by there was very uneventful. I just acted like I was in the loop. It's like playing house, nothings ever for real. No commitment lasts forever, not even the pretend ones.
"So guys, how’s life without me?" I ask. My question is thrown out for who is doing what with who. I could care less.
I hit the streets. Nothin’ like a brisk jaunt-haunt around town to make you feel better. Knocking over this, moving that, breaking those. I used to be something, but now I have to be like a felt pen, seeping into everything I touch. After turning a flag upside down at the local scout den I decide to just relax. I walk back to the street and what do you know, but the jangle jangle of metal chains tell me instantly who's coming my way. Maybe I should use her approach, old fashioned chain rattling. Spooky.
"Hey you!" I shout just for the hell of it. But what do you know, she sees me. She fucking looks up sees me and pacmans in the other direction. Best to avoid the ghosts.
"Hey stop," I shout, "I'll haunt you I swear I will!"
"Leave me alone Joseph!" She shouts. I run up next to her.
"How the fuck do you know me and how come you can see me?!" No way am I being casper and coy.
"You’re Joseph Bristol. I killed you, I'm the one that hit you!" I hear her shout through gagged tears. I stop dead in my tracks and she keeps going.
"I am definitely going to haunt the fuck out of you!" I shout at her.
It's been about two weeks and I haven't left her side. Everything she does or say I'm right there with a rude comment or remark. I am beyond the malevolent spirit stage. I ruin dinners, I ruin family outings, I ruin every aspect of life enjoyable. I sit by her bed and whisper mean things in her ear, evil things. I stick around when she gets ready for showers, or to change. Discomfort is my best weapon. I disrupt her in class. I've ruined her G.P.A. in days flat.
"I want things like before i could see you!" She shouts at me. We've had these meetings in her room several times.
"Well gee, maybe if you hadn't've...hmmm...killed me? Yeah, killed me then we wouldn't've had this problem!" I retort.
"I got a doctors appointment to go to, just leave me alone for that, please?"
"No promises." I say. Why haven't things been fogging? I decide to follow her. Distance is something best kept for me right now though.
Private Pen, the sign says. It's a mental facility. I knew the bitch was crazy, but I probably drove her here. I sit outside of the office she goes to, I listen in for things to use against her.
"So you say he actually has been connecting with you, from the other side?" The doc says.
"No, he's still around."
"Like a ghost?"
"Yeah kinda like it."
"I'd like to see your parents for a moment, if thats alright with you of course."
"Sure, umm, yeah. It's fine"
I play swinging door to make sure she doesn't see me on her way out. I'm on my way in, private conversations are always the most fun.
"She seems to be retaining some knowledge of Joseph." He says.
"I thought you said she would be past this after the treatment. What’s happening with her?" The mom asks.
"Well she is now interacting with him in a third person sense, instead of living through him. With the subjective hypnosis.." The mom cuts him off.
"Please explain how that was supposed to work again, I'm still having trouble understanding."
"Well I managed to bring both personalities to the surface in her mind. I put them both in a situation in which one would have to dominate the other. The easiest is usually an accident of some sort. I set up the atmosphere and she juxtaposed the hit and run." I am awh struck. Fish out of water, straight into space.
"So she killed him off right?"
"Exactly, the only reason why they still interact is guilt. She feels guilt over what she thought she did. It should pass over time." My stomach knots.
I storm out of the office, straight to her, straight to her face.
"YOU BITCH! YOU CRAZY BITCH," I shout, " I'm not even real! Because you’re so fuckin’ crazy I had to suffer for fucking years!" I leave her there cringing away from me.
The name on the grave reads Ted Bailey. The name on my family mailbox reads Denton. My ex had been with her current boyfriend for about four years. My friends, I don't even actually recognize. All of them live in the same neighborhood of that girl. I walk away from there. I walk to the edge of my town. I walk straight into the fog. Acceptance should be a virtue, because the knowledge that brings it is blissful. I'm not dead, I'm just not alive either.
Nice story. I noticed a few spelling and grammatical errors here and there but they're easy to fix. I liked it - you held my focus the whole time. Well done!
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