Today the sky was colored gold from the sun, the clouds pink from basking in the sunlight and the sunrise giving a purple hue to the horizon. I woke up and dragged myself away from the bed, the scent of pancakes on a griddle drifting through the air. There’s a clatter going on downstairs in our kitchen, likely mom trying to clean and perfect everything. Eventually I make my way down the single flight of stairs in our house to take a seat at the table. Mom rushes past me with a breakfast laid neatly on a tray, and disappears into the feminine bedroom. I hear her whispering, “C’mon, May, it’s time to wake up… see, I made you pancakes! They’re your favorite! Please? Just one bite..?”
Her body lay resting, ignoring the desperate mother’s attempts; quite selfish, in my opinion.
I hover outside to our porch, and despite the sun soaking near everything in sight, there’s still a chilled bite to the air. I shiver from the dropped temperature, but welcome the freeze. Reaching my hand out towards the sun, to give the illusion of holding it, my translucent skin replaces the white light behind me with green, like stained glass. My veins look like ribbons, running through my arm and down my chest, all leading to my sickly heart that somehow remains pumping. The skin holding the plasma inside of me is a turquoise color, with opaque dark blue spots- like freckles- showered on my shoulders and hands. Hair like vapor frames my gaunt face, drifting endlessly onwards. If a strand was held, one couldn’t determine when it exactly ended, as it just seemed to slowly stop existing, like it were connected with the air surrounding me. A sleeveless pearl-colored dress goes down to my knees and dissolves into individual stars with every lace acting like an ethereal stream of galaxy. The yellow and white light from the sun peeking over the skyline makes the color of my eyes pop like a bright yellow dandelion in a green meadow.
Gentle winds calm the roaring spirits all around me; from arguments hidden by the walls of others’ houses, to the excitable child racing outside with their toys. It was as if a music was carried by it, telling the most significant species of earth that it was time for silence, and words weren’t necessary at this moment in time.
After realizing my eyes had near glazed over from staring at the landscape around me, I shook myself awake and looked down the street at the people walking by. A girl with her father and their dog were strolling along, the child in her church dress. She was staring dead at me, into my marigold eyes, the eyes with the slits for pupils, the eyes of a cat’s. Is she a ghastly spirit? Her hand reached for her dad’s shirt and she tugged, and pointed. The guardian looked at where she was pointing and didn’t see the same figure she saw, that I saw. I gave a slight wave and she smiled gently, the way a four year old might. She is. The girl would die one day, as would the father. Die, or at least for the daugher, go into a coma, and possess an other-worldly spirit, a demonic body. The dad would be left with the blissful yet boring Heaven, separate from the daughter.
What curse was laid upon you, Girl? Time pauses as I gaze into her eyes and float towards her; a bright green locked her pupils into place, but further than that, abuse had been committed. Looking closer, I saw the remains of a bruise on her cheek. I was wrong; the father would not go to Heaven, and instead, rot in Hell.
With utmost caution, I place my hand on her shoulder, and her spirit leaves her body for a spell, and she looks at me with her cartoonishly big eyes.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I saw you staring at me a minute or so ago. You can see me?”
The girl says with a large amount of confidence, “Yes, I was able to see you. You look so different from any other human I’ve seen. Are you sick? What’s your name?”
“My name is May. Yes, I suppose I’m sick, but not in this form.” I point to my house, and the general area of my bedroom. “My body is up there, but my spirit left, which is who you see right now. I’m that girl’s mind and soul. What is your name?”
Her smooth skin is round like a child’s should be, but slightly too skinny, near starved. “Emily. Can my dad hear us right now?”
“No, Emily, he can’t. That’s what’s so special about you. You’re able to see my spirit; you’ve been abused, haven’t you? The spirit of one who was tortured in their life is able to escape their body after death or coma, or when released by another spirit. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to go back to your body whenever you want, just tell me when.”
Emily’s light purple skin gave her emerald eyes a nice glow, and complimented her light blond translucent hair. Her eyes were glued on mine. “My dad… hits me, sometimes. And when I misbehave, I don’t eat dinner. But I thought that was normal. I thought a lot of families were like that, at least until I went to kindergarten, and everyone was talking about their families.” She paused, and took a deep breath. It’s hard to confess something like that, no matter what age. Fear takes its toll.
“Does my dad even have a spirit?”
I glance over at his face. “Everyone has a spirit, where it goes is determined by their life.”
Emily looks along with me. “Can you see his spirit, or talk to him?”
Chills were sent down my spine. “Yes… yes, I can. In the afterlife, you’ll be able to, too. But it’s an awful experience… their spirit’s color is… undefined, undiscovered. Not in a beautiful way, but in a fearful way. New things can be scary, and yes, sometimes we have to face our fears. But, on the other hand, some things are meant to be left alone. Talking to an evil soul is like… Imagine being underwater, with the ability to breathe there. Everything is so pretty, and perfect, fish dart in and out of coral, all sorts of colors dot the floor… the colors are so beautiful, and need to stay that way. But imagine feeling a new underwater sensation… a deep, dull, freezing cold, that’s sent straight to the bones, that gives your skin a blue hue. The feel of being underwater, times two. It’s a vague description that probably doesn’t make sense, and I’m sorry. That’s the best way I can describe what talking to an evil soul is like. It’s scary, it needs to be left alone.”