Hey guys! You may know me from my other story, Babysitting With Niall Horan, but if you're new, that's awesome.
The inspiration for this story came from the movie Ghost. I looked everywhere for a fanfic that had this kind of plot, but when I saw that there weren't any, I figured I'd write one myself!
This story mentions God, the Afterlife, and things of that nature, but anything else relating to religion of any kind is not mentioned. I realize that religion is a very touchy subject, but I'm simply using this as a plot device, so nobody get offended, okay?
I hope you enjoy!
My name is Andrea Rose Carter. I enjoy music, dancing, and painting. I'm a very opinionated person, and I don't like to keep things that bother me to myself. I was born May 11th, 1932.
Yes, 1932. I am technically 82 years old, but I definitely don't look like it. I died at the young age of 18, but please, don't ask me how I died.
My father was an incredibly successful buisnessman, and my mother was an independent, strong-willed woman. I inherited that from her, as well as her wide, blue eyes and my father's dark, mahogany-colored hair. I don't want to toot my own horn, but I was the beauty of the city in which I was raised, or at least that's what others would say about me.
I am a ghost. I'm translucent and everything, and I can even walk through walls. I can do whatever I want to without being noticed by any human. You'd think that'd be rather fun, but it is less enjoyable when you're stuck like that forever.
I'm very lonely. Most humans can't hear me, and the ones who can are usually too frightened to hold any conversation. So, I usually just keep to myself, drifting anywhere I please and watching humans I have particular interests in. Occasionally I bump into another spirit like me, but that is very rare.
After living this lifestyle for so long, I've become quite good at reading people's personalities at first sight. I guess when you people-watch as much as I do, certain body language, speaking habits, or any other way an individiual acts is easy to interpret.
I move from place to place quite often, but I always come back to London. It was where I was born, and ultimately where I died. It has always been a part of me, and I'll always call it home.
After most people die, they go to heaven, or in some cases hell. Their soul easily exits their body and they are reunited with their loved ones in God's kingdom. Lucky sons of bitches. I, as well as many others, didn't have that luxury. We were left here on Earth for a purpose, and it could take a single day or thousands of years after our deaths before we fulfill that purpose.
When you think about it, the entire purpose of life is to contribute and do whatever job God has planned and created you to do. Some people, for example, are created to save others, like firemen and women. Once they've saved as many people as God planned them to, they could die in their next fire.
It's sad, yes, but at least the lucky ones fulfill their Purpose while they're still alive and are able to enjoy the Afterlife in peace.
But, for people- or ghosts, I guess I should say- like me, it wasn't that easy. Some of us don't fulfill our Purpose while living. My dear friend was one of those people. He died in 1978, committing suicide by jumping off of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Fransisco. It turns out, his Purpose was to stop living people from making the mistake that he had and convincing them that there was a better way out. He had saved countless people, and apparently he had saved as many as he was supposed to, because one day he was able to go On to the Afterlife.
Obviously, I haven't fulfilled my purpose yet.