A ghost watched her old friends hang out in a mall. She wished she was still there, still able to be with her friends, still allowed to be around others. But that was impossible. She was dead. She could never return to them. She was cursed to watch until she could pass on. Until she was ready. Until she no longer felt attached to this world.
It was a sad existence really, not being able to move on and not knowing why. She just wished that she could sometimes, but then told herself she still had things she needed to do. What, she could never find out. She reached out to one of her friends but was unable to do anything. She tried crying, but no tears formed. It was like she was not there. Why could she just not forget!
People walked past, and through her. No one paid the ghost girl any mind. Why would they? She was dead. Merely a fragment of what she was. All she was, was her desires from when she was alive.
She decided to go to her crush’s house. Maybe she could see him. Maybe that was keeping her here. Maybe after she saw him, she could be free. She hovered to the place that she walked past every day just so then she had a chance to catch a glimpse of him. And it was not that creepy or anything, she lived in the same neighborhood on the same street. Very convenient for her.
Once she was there, 132 Red Apple Street, she hovered in place for a bit, wondering where he was at. Where Jacob was at. She gave a pitiful sigh as she just hovered there.
Down the sidewalk, she spotted Jacob’s younger brother, Trevor. She instantly recognized him as her crush’s brother because of his dirt brown hair, brown eyes, and dusty-grey jacket. His blue jeans were baggy and had holes in them, another common fashion choice of Jacob’s younger brother. And his black shirt peeked out of his jacket, not having any sort of design. Something that Trevor pulled off constantly to the point that was just his style.
Of course, she never really talked to him before when she lived. And she couldn’t start now, even if she wanted to. No one could hear her, so why even try. The most they would ever hear was a breeze of wind. Which, of course, they would blame on the wind.
Trevor stared straight ahead, and she thought nothing of it. It was only when he stared at her when he entered his driveway she knew something was up. She looked behind her. No one was there. She looked back at Trevor, his hands in the pockets of his dusty-gray hoodie. “Yes, I can see you,” he told her. She sat there, stunned. How can he see her? Did he see all ghosts? Could he help her? She was about to voice her questions, but he was already walking inside. Maybe later he could help her. Maybe later.
It was a sad existence really, not being able to move on and not knowing why. She just wished that she could sometimes, but then told herself she still had things she needed to do. What, she could never find out. She reached out to one of her friends but was unable to do anything. She tried crying, but no tears formed. It was like she was not there. Why could she just not forget!
People walked past, and through her. No one paid the ghost girl any mind. Why would they? She was dead. Merely a fragment of what she was. All she was, was her desires from when she was alive.
She decided to go to her crush’s house. Maybe she could see him. Maybe that was keeping her here. Maybe after she saw him, she could be free. She hovered to the place that she walked past every day just so then she had a chance to catch a glimpse of him. And it was not that creepy or anything, she lived in the same neighborhood on the same street. Very convenient for her.
Once she was there, 132 Red Apple Street, she hovered in place for a bit, wondering where he was at. Where Jacob was at. She gave a pitiful sigh as she just hovered there.
Down the sidewalk, she spotted Jacob’s younger brother, Trevor. She instantly recognized him as her crush’s brother because of his dirt brown hair, brown eyes, and dusty-grey jacket. His blue jeans were baggy and had holes in them, another common fashion choice of Jacob’s younger brother. And his black shirt peeked out of his jacket, not having any sort of design. Something that Trevor pulled off constantly to the point that was just his style.
Of course, she never really talked to him before when she lived. And she couldn’t start now, even if she wanted to. No one could hear her, so why even try. The most they would ever hear was a breeze of wind. Which, of course, they would blame on the wind.
Trevor stared straight ahead, and she thought nothing of it. It was only when he stared at her when he entered his driveway she knew something was up. She looked behind her. No one was there. She looked back at Trevor, his hands in the pockets of his dusty-gray hoodie. “Yes, I can see you,” he told her. She sat there, stunned. How can he see her? Did he see all ghosts? Could he help her? She was about to voice her questions, but he was already walking inside. Maybe later he could help her. Maybe later.
