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RILEY
I saw a girl the other day. She didn't do much, but a small action had meant a lot to me.
It was the closest thing to friendliness I'd come across in a while. Which says a lot.
To my dismay, none of the ghosts around here like each other. Everyone's caught up in their own misery, their own situations and pain, and the existence of another ghost is kind of just an extra reminder that you can't interact with actual human beings anymore. You'd think they'd be more united given the circumstances.
It's a dumb way of thinking, but I eventually had to adapt into it.
And I was getting to the point where I just thought I was going to be an eternally miserable ghost, who will never find his purpose for not passing on, and will walk hand in hand with loneliness for the rest of his non-life. I was beginning to consider trying to haunt a random person. That's how bad it was getting.
Until I saw her.
Her being the girl who noticed my artwork.
Her being the first living person to acknowledge anything about me for a long time. I decided to call her the da Vinci girl. Don't roast me for the stupid name-Apparently Leonardo was always the most curious person when it came to interpreting art. And this particular girl had a really curious look on her face when she saw my graffiti.
The first time I saw her was around six in the morning. I was bored, and particularly thinking about how nothing was changing in my non-life. So I'd graffitied a small note on the wall: This day is on repeat
Strangely enough, just as I'd finished, I saw her walking up the street. I may have seen her before, but I don't keep track of all the moody faces that walk by.
She had stopped when she saw my work, and looked at it for some time, as if she had nothing better to do.
She was quite small, and frail looking. Her hair was a dark espresso colour, and spiralled in thick wisps down her back. It looked like it hadn't been combed out well, but there was something strangely fascinating about it anyway. Her eyes were large, and a deep hazel colour, that looked bright against her dark brown skin.
A lot of her face was hidden behind her hair, and by the thick red scarf she had tucked her chin into, and seemed to fidget with a lot- I wanted to see more.
"That's so weird," I heard her say, "I was thinking the same thing." And then she went on her way. I watched her, thoughtfully.
Usually, nobody pays attention to the graffiti that I create. Even though it's visible, maybe the fact that it was made by a ghost just makes it less noticeable unless you actively focus on it.
I managed to notice her everyday from then on. She always went by the same route, and she was always by herself. She almost always kept her head down, as she walked, and always wore a thick scarf, which I didn't like, because I looked forward to the days when I could actually see her face. I couldn't help but begin to grow curious about her.
What was her name? What did she study? And why did she always look so sad?
I felt like I could relate to her in a way. I was always alone, too.
I wondered what she'd think of me, too. Did I look approachable? Would she be willing to be friends if she saw me?
But then I have to keep reminding myself that my face is very likely to have been...well...misshapen thanks to that car. I'd laugh at that, if I wasn't the one going through it. And then I realised that even if she could see me, she wouldn't want to be friends with someone who had a messed up face.
I was annoyed by that. I looked pretty good back when I was alive. That would've worked like a charm on anyone, if I attempted to make a move.
And so my hope began to fade again.
It was only when she noticed my art for the second time that I felt more of an urge to talk to her. It was something about BridgeTown not being peaceful.
What I meant by that was that the ghosts were always troubling people for fun around here, never leaving them in peace. But how could she possibly understand what I meant?
After studying it for about five minutes, she dashed down the street and into one of the shops.
And then I saw her at my park, actively trying to look for my artwork. She even got a child to help her out. And it was only after she left that I finally decided on what to do.
Maybe, just maybe, I can try to make a friend again.
