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IWOKE THE FOLLOWING DAY CONVINCED THAT THE GHOSTWASonly a hallucination.
Am I lying to myself? Absolutely.
Anxiety – meet denial.
Of course, my plan to bury my head in the sand and pretend yesterday never happened would work much better if the ghost in the soccer field was the only ghost I would be seeing.
Silly of me to assume my life would return to its non-supernatural state. Because when I leave my house to take on what should be a super-ordinary day, I’m faced with what I guess is my new normal.
Ghosts. Everywhere.
It’s as if someone has lifted a curtain, and suddenly, a new freaky world has been superimposed onto my reality.
I think the occasional ghost sighting could be tolerable, but this – this is a bit extreme.
There are ghostly figures peppered across my neighbourhood. It’s easy enough to tell them apart from the living. Beyond the fact that if you look closely, they’re see-through, the ghosts all have that same light blue glow. Some are following living people, but others just wander about aimlessly.
If that wasn’t bad enough, they’re inside people’s houses, too. Judging by the number of glowing figures I see in my neighbour’s windows, his house is super haunted. I wonder if he hears rattling chains when he tries to sleep at night. Maybe that’s why he’s so cranky.
When I was five, the old man yelled at me for accidentally walking on one of his tulips. I’ve thought poorly of him ever since, but maybe I need to re-evaluate. I guess being severely haunted might leave you feeling a bit grumpy. My good mood has certainly disappeared.
I’m torn between wanting to crawl back into bed and wanting to pretend nothing is happening.
Normal. Act normal.
Everything is fine. Totally fine.
It’s not fine. But I go to school anyway.
I suppose there is one silver lining to this whole dead people predicament. At least the ghosts are quiet. The only noise I’ve heard out of them is a hushed whisper, but it’s not anything I can make out. It’s almost as if they speak in static or a low whispering white noise.
I make it to lunch hour before breaking my ‘fake it till you make it’ strategy. Rather than braving the cafeteria crowds, I head to the library. It’s deserted in here, save for the glowing figure of an older woman sitting on one of the reading chairs.
I guess it’s time to make stupid decisions.
I approach her.
“Hello,” I say in a quiet, friendly tone.
To my surprise, the ghost looks at me with a mixture of shock and horror. I think she’s more surprised to see me than I am by her. She looks distraught.
Am I some kind of harbinger of living person-cooties?
She gives me a good frown before turning her head back to her book.
I could take the social cue and leave her alone. But instead, I try again, “Uhm, hi, do you have a second?”
Nothing.
She’s ignoring me. I guess ghosts are passive-aggressive.
I feel my wayward hope of a career as a ghost-whispering detective float away.
Thanks a lot for the unrealistic expectations, Hollywood.
The rest of my afternoon goes by normally. Or as normal as can be expected if you don’t count me running into no less than seven ghosts that haunt my school. Every last one of them refused to acknowledge me. So, I’ve settled on ignoring the jerk ghosts right back.
If that’s how things are going to be, we can all pretend the other doesn’t exist or seriously disturb their mental peace.
