Detached

The Begining

It was a Saturday the first time I left my body. If you were able to see me (which of course you aren't) you would probably say I'm something close to a ghost. I wouldn't blame you, what with the way I glimmer when I walk and the fact that you can practically see right through me. I'm not a ghost, though. To put it into simpler terms, I'm a wandering soul. There aren't too many of us in this bizarre, mixed up world, so I don't have much company when I leave my body. Most of the others are old grannys that can't find their way back to their bodies. You guessed it. They died. A body is nothing without its soul. It's pretty dramatic to see these old people. Just knowing they're trapped on the outside forever, well it scares me. What if it happens to me? It didn't happen that Saturday night. I was sleeping at my friend's house and thought I was dreaming.

I walked around the house a bit trying to wake myself up from this strangely boring dream. It didn't happen. I saw Julie get up when the sun had been in the sky for a while. She went to the bathroom, walked around, ate breakfast, and, well, waited for me to get up basically. It was weird. She shook me and I shook. She called my name and I heard her as if she were standing right next to me, when in fact I was clear across the room. I bean to panic. Why wasn't I waking up? I ran towards my own body thinking in some way I could wake myself up. Instead, when I touched my arm, my hand got stuck. I layed on top of my body and it felt as though I was being absorbed. My eyes flew open and Julie screamed.

"Don't ever do that again, Willow!" She shouted. I was frozen in place. That was not a dream. It couldn't be.

"Julie," I said slowly.

"It's not funny! I thought you were dead! Why would you do that?"

"It-It's not what you think!" I stuttered out. "I-I left my body." I managed.

"You're. A freak." And those were the last words said to me by Julie Smith. She told the whole eighth grade what had happened. I became the social outcast. Even Johnny-Picks-His-Nose was cooler than me.

The teachers got together and decided it might be healthy for me to see the counseler. It just made things worse.

My parents got involved and took me to a child psychiatrist, where I repeatedly insisted that it was a one time thing. I had a nightmare and didn't handle myself well. They didn't believe me.

Things died down after a couple of months but I still didn't have any friends. My parents decide that I needed a fresh start. Somehow that meant moving to Georgia.

They were right. I made new friends, got my life back. But there was always that thought running through my mind of the time in eighth grade. It was my secret. My parents either chose to forget about it or were too preoccupied with my mistake-of-a-little-brother, Conner. Things were finally getting back to normal.

I was stressed with finals coming up and fell asleep late on night while studying. Before I knew it I was standing over my own motionless body. My first thought was to get back in as soon as possible, but then I thought I should experiment a bit. I grabbed a pen off my night stand and marked all the way down my left arm. If this was real it would still be there when I returned right? Something clicked in my brain. I can pick up things. That means I'm not a ghost, right?  Then I wondered, can people see me?

After wandering into my parents bedroom I thought it through again. If they can see me what am I going to say to them? I figured on the slight chance that they did see me, I'd be able to make something up.

"Good heavens, child! What are you doing?" An unfamiliar voice said behind me. I froze.