H A U N T E D

t h i r t y - f o u r

"I can't. You-you've been dead for nearly eighty years", I inform him, shaking in his grasp. He presses down harder, putting all his weight on me. I cry out, feeling warm tears well up in my eyes.

"No!", he refuses to believe me.

"Yes!", I yell back, trying to pull away from him, but unable to budge.

"You died many years ago, and no one remembers you. A grudge is the only thing keeping you from whatever comes next", I ramble fast, hoping that I am able to convince the spirit. His hold on me loosens slightly, but he keeps me down to the counter.

"No", he whispers defeated, and I feel his nails dig into my skin.

"Look in the mirror. You-you were hanged, on the mountain. That's wh-why you've got those marks", I gesture towards the mirror with my chin. The man looks up, at the mirror, and the angry red marks aren't easy to miss, from where the rope chafed him.

"I woke up a few months ago, in the forest, where they took me", he tried to recount his memory. This is, of course, incorrect. Time works differently to the dead. What feels like a month to him, but as well have been seven years in our time.

"I tried to leave the mountain, but I would wake up in the same place."

His remains must've been buried nearby. Unless he finds peace, he will never truly leave the mountain. Even now, as he's pushing me down, it is merely a flicker of his soul. It is my own fault, I accidentally summoned him in my sleep. The rage is mighty enough to help him be two places at once. Once the rage starts to diminish, he will wake up on the mountain in the morning, where he was murdered.

"Unless you forgive those who wronged you-", I mumble awkwardly, my speech distorted from my position.

"You will forever haunt the mountain. You must find peace, and I can help you", I offer my help, in a desperate attempt to get rid of the spirit. He pulls me up, holding my arm behind my back.

"You can?"

I nod, flinching at the pain that explodes as my arm feels as though it will snap any second.

"You will need to forgive your murderers. Are you prepared to do that?", I ask at the mirror, looking the man in the eye. The man stares back at me, contemplating my offer, before he spits back.

"No! You are lying! I ain't dead. You just don't wanna help me", his voice breaks at the end of his statement.

"I do! I'm the only one who can see you, you must know that", I try to reassure him that he is, in fact, deceased, but he throws me forward against the counter. I stumble and look at the man through the mirror.

"I am going back to base, tell the sergeant that they had me. He'll be real proud of me", he grins, despite himself. He is ready to jump back into war, to be able to tell his superior that he escaped the hands of the enemy. Except, he didn't.

"I gotta go home to my Maggie. She's waiting for me", he declares, before his figure dissipates into thin air. I close my eyes, feeling a sob that had been held back, make its appearance. Reaching for my mouth, to stop the noise from escaping, I cry into my hand, feeling the hot tears stain my cold hand.

Through my tears, I can barely see the mirror. The candlelight flickers wild, at the consistent movement in the air. My own face looks back at me, and I feel bile build up inside of me. The disgusting creature on the mirror looks terrified, and in a flash moment, without thinking about it, I punch the mirror. The glass shatters around my fist, breaking into my skin and falling into the skin. I cry out once the glass slices my skin, cutting through it and causing me to bleed. I grab the towel around my body, and use it to place pressure on my cuts. I blow out the candle, not wanting to start an accidental fire. Hissing at the feel of glass in my hand, I walk back to my bedroom, feeling exhausted from the terrifying encounter with the spirit.