Here's a little whatever. Just the prologue to something slightly longer.
Hope you all enjoy it!
Please lemme know what you all think!
I believe in ghosts. I always have.
I've been able to see ghosts for as long as I can remember. Normally, they're not too terrifying. It used to scare me, when I was really little and they'd stand in the dark corners of my bedroom. My parents took my to a child psychologist because they thought I might be schizoprenic, or something. But I'm not.
I saw my brother's ghost when he died. Or, really, while he was dying.
I was walking home from school one day in early fall, and there he was, standing in the middle of the road. He was just standing there, staring at me, looking as real and as human as I looked. I was freaked out, because we'd just taken him to college a couple of days before. We'd helped him unload his things from the car, and we'd left him at college, hours and hours away from home. And there he was, right in the middle of the street, standing between the double yellow lines. I thought there might be some family emergency. I was worried about my parents - what if something happened to them and he had to come back? The cars were whizzing by him, not even slowing, like they didn't notice him at all.
Jesus Christ, Souzo! I shouted. Get outta the road, man!
He looked at me and smiled. Then he turned, and walked straight into the path of an on-coming car. The driver braked, but hit him anyway. Or, he would have hit him, if my brother hadn't disappeared.
It was then that I realized I hadn't seen my brother - not really, at least. It should have occured to me earlier, but, for whatever reason, it didn't. When I got home, I knew what they were going to say: He'd been hit by a car around three o'clock and died on the street.
So I'm not unfamiliar with ghosts. I see them almost everywhere. Some are rooted to a certain spot - a house, maybe where they lived, or where they died, or a grave yard, or some place that had special meaning to them in life. Others are free-floating, able to move around wherever and whenever they like. Some ghosts are nothing more than a cold spot in a room, or a voice echoing in an empty hallway; some have full corporeal form and look as real as any living person. Not all of them can communicate, and not all of them want to. But all of them are real.
This time, though . . . This time, it's different.