Connected (A Paranormal Romance) excerpt

Chapter 2: Realization

CHAPTER 2: REALIZATION

They gave her the name Aurora Alana Phillips. I liked the fact that it meant first light. She was the first light in my new world. She was the only thing I was able to focus on in my new life, at first. The name suited her. 

Mrs. Phillips and her husband admired their new daughter for a long while. I couldn’t help but watch her too. She was so mesmerizing. I knew I was sharing what was supposed to be a private moment between parents and their new child, but I felt like I was meant to be a part of it. I couldn’t leave her. She was all I had. I felt connected to her in some way.

A nurse came in, “I’m going to have to take her now. You should rest.”

Her parents reluctantly let her go. I couldn’t. I felt compelled to follow Aurora. The nurse took her to the nursery, a few other babies were there, and put her in a bassinet. Then she left. I was finally alone with Aurora. So, I slowly moved over to the bassinet and took my first good look at her. Some of the babies were crying, but she wasn’t. She looked peaceful, not a care in the world, content. I stood there for a long time, just watching her. I don’t know what it was about her, but she really fascinated me.

Aurora was a cute baby. Still, I don’t think that’s the reason I was so bewitched by her. I felt a connection between us that I couldn’t explain and if anything, that was the source of my fascination.

I snapped out of my reverie when I noticed  the group of people outside the glass windows of the nursery watching us. Aurora’s father and what must have been her grandparents were standing outside the nursery. They were staring at Aurora and pointing, smiling, and making baby faces. They were so happy to see her.

After a minute or two of watching them look at the baby, it hit me. I realized they couldn’t see me. I really realized it – what that meant. It was surreal. I couldn’t believe it.

That was the moment I snapped out of the dream state I had been in since I died. The serenity and calm that I had been feeling disappeared and panic quickly replaced it. I waved my arms and nobody looked up at me. The people at the nursery window were only looking at the babies. It was like I didn’t exist.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Can you see me? Hey! What’s wrong with you? Look at me!”

Nobody flinched, much less paid me any attention. They couldn’t see me. They couldn’t hear me. It was like I wasn’t even there.

It was hard for me to accept, at first. The concept itself was unreal to me, but I knew. It just took a while to hit me. I was a ghost. I was dead. I could remember my death.

I wanted to deny the thought immediately, although innately I had already known that it was true. For the most part, I felt alive, real. I could still think. I could still feel and see my own body. My body wasn’t transparent, at least not to me.

Then I decided to try something. I decided to touch Aurora. I slowly lowered my hand to her head. I was just going to touch her forehead – feel my hand on her skin. I hesitated right above her head and then I let my hand sink down toward her skin. As I looked down, horrified, I saw my hand go through her skull and into the bassinet. I jerked my hand away. I stared at it for what seemed like forever, my mind racing.

But I can’t be, I thought. How can I be dead? What happened to me? How did I die? My mind raced. I couldn’t remember anything before that moment in the hospital room where the doctors had surrounded me. Why couldn’t I remember my life? Why couldn’t I remember anything about it? I tried. I really tried. There were almost vague memories, but then there was nothing. I couldn’t find the memories of my life. I knew I had lived. I had died, after all. Why couldn’t I remember my life? Why was I fated to have this happen? Why me?