I wake in darkness, my eyes fluttering open. Dead silent. It’s still early morning. Memories of my dream- at least I deny anything but it being a dream- flood back; the piano, the voice… The ghost..?
What a strange dream.
That’s all it is; a dream. No matter how real it felt, no matter how I could feel goosebumps covering my arms as I ran up the stairs, or the fear making my stomach do backflips as I heard that voice, it was all a dream.
I climb out of bed and rub my eyes. My charging phone laying on the floor says, '6:56 AM'.
I yawn, still thinking about the voice, as I travel down to the kitchen to have something to eat. When I get to the fridge, I realize that I have no food, and it seems all my common sense comes flooding back to me.
Right. No food. New house.
I sigh, not wanting to go anywhere. My eyes move to the counter where I see my sketchbook open.
What?
I investigate it further and see words I didn’t write in messy handwriting that’s not mine.
“Hey, it's that voice you heard earlier. I'm Matthew, a ghost that's lived here for 14 years. I know this seems weird, but this is really happening so I just want some help. Try to contact me in any way you can, I'm always here. I'll try to talk to you, but it gets rather tiring.”
That was real?!
No, that couldn’t be… That…
I briskly close the sketchbook, rubbing my forehead. I’m going to look like an idiot. “Hello? Uh… Matthew?” I wait a few moments before shaking my head, “This is stupid. Why would this be real?” I see movement from my sketchbook and feel like my eyes are playing tricks on me. It’s opened now, a pen is hovering over the page. I jump back, wide eyed, as I hold my breath.
Oh God, okay, this is happening. “Uhh…” I mumble. What are you supposed to say in this situation?!
I approach the sketchbook when the pen drops and see a new sentence scribbled down. “Don’t be afraid, it’s indeed Matthew.”
I laugh. Seriously laugh, because I don’t understand what’s happening and it feels like it’s out of some movie. What next? This ‘Matthew’ will be from the drawing I made earlier?
He writes down more, “I’m only contacting you because you somehow know what I look like (your latest drawing) and I felt like maybe you could help me.”
Well, I guess I’m psychic or something. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I chuckle. This feels so unreal. “This is insane. Am I going insane? Do I have some type of illness?”
“I’m real,” he writes.
“No, you’re not. I’m just hallucinating or something… I…”
“This is real, I promise you.”
“How?!” I nearly yell.
“I don’t know! How have I been trapped in this house for nearly 15 years?! I don’t know why any of this can happen, it just can because it’s happening right now!”
The pencil is thrown onto the floor, my sketchbook toppling over, and I wonder what’s happening to him. “Matthew?” I wonder aloud.
There was no response. I wait for maybe a bit over ten minutes before deciding he’s gone for now and put my trusty red and black windbreaker on, more confused than ever before.
YOU ARE READING
Forever a Ghost ✓
Paranormal17 year old Matthew Christopher Roberts died in his own house in 2005. He's been stuck in the very same house as a ghost for the past 14 years. So what happens when Abigail, an artistic 18 year old and the shadow of her sister, moves in and wants to...
