Ghost Story

Intake to Asphodel

Ghost.

It doesn't feel that different. Being dead, I mean. I don't remember dying. I don't remember becoming a ghost, I mean, I guess that's what I am, I feel like a regular teenager. I can't walk through walls or float. I just exist, like before. I go home, I get up, I eat breakfast from the refrigerator, lunch from the microwave, dinner from the oven. I guess it's my house, I don't remember who I was. I must have had a family, a life, friends. I don't remember them. I know that I'm dead, the same way I know that the sun comes up in the east, but I don't see it.

I go to school, I sit in the same seat, talk to the same friends, and they say the same things they did when I was alive. They say, "Hi."

I say, "Hi."

I don't know their names and I'm afraid to ask, they might ask my name. We talk about school, assignments, boys.

My room is nice. Girly. Frilly. I have a double bed with a canopy, a frieze with a beach scene, a picture of me in a swimsuit. My blankets are warm and comfortable, and the bed is never cold. I can swim. I know that for sure. I can read, write, brush my teeth and sleep. The room has a bay window with a seat, and a desk with a computer connected to the net. The walls are painted a sunny yellow, and the ceiling is white. I get email from my teachers.

I'm scared. I'm afraid that my existence depends on this charade, because that's what it is, and asking questions could cause the whole house of cards to come down. I've left the name on my paper blank every day, but I still get it back graded.

I go to school on the bus, I come home on the bus. I suspect that if I don't go to school, things will change, and I am afraid of change. What happens if I change things and I disappear? Do I depend on the ritual? Who am I? Who was I?

Morning time. I get up, I eat breakfast, eggs this time. The sun shining through the drapes brings a sense of spring, of change, so I feel sunny. My room is golden, the sunshine glowing off the white paint. I fry up a couple of sunny side up, the first time in weeks, maybe months, shower, do my morning routine, worry about how short I am, get dressed in my uniform and head off to school. I wear the blue polo today and the khaki pants, instead of the white polo and khaki pants. I grab my book bag, step outside and head for the bus stop, right on time.

The bus is late, for the first time in forever. Today is different than every other day I remember. Is it because I dressed differently and had a different breakfast? A choking fear stops my breath. I look around, but everything seems normal. People driving by on the street, walking... normal. They don't interact with me, but they never did, and the colors are drab and boring. Normal. The fear ebbs away. The bus stop is on the intersection of a small housing development road and a small country highway. It's a five-minute walk from the house along a tree lined lane, then a right turn and the entrance to the small enclave of single-family homes. The cars drive slowly by at regular intervals, the drivers waving to me as I wait.

Time ticks by and I wonder why today is different, nicer, warmer. The sun warms my face and my spirit. The extra time is nice. I look at my watch, then realize I'm not wearing a watch. I'm pretty sure I had one yesterday. I pat my pants pocket and my book bag looking for my phone and come up empty. I know I had a phone. I shake my book bag out. I thought my initials were on the bag. I wish I could remember my initials. More time passes.

The yellow and black school bus comes around the corner and I start in surprise. It's a brand-new bus, one of the big long ones with the flat front. The old one from yesterday must be in the shop or something. The bus hums to a stop in front of the stop, silently and the door hisses open. Diesel-electric. Funny... I can remember what that is, but can't remember who I am.