Seeing Ghosts
Nightingale

Itwas finally summer, but I still felt cold.

Aftereverything that had happened with Corrine, Aaron, and the entity, it left mewith this cold feeling that I couldn’t shake and Corrine’s prediction that thiswas only the start made me feel worse. After that, something in me knew that Iwould never go back to how things were. I could never sleep peacefully anymore.I wouldn’t be able to brush things off anymore and say that it was “the wind”anymore or “just my imagination”. I’d learned for a certainty that there aresuch things as spirits living in this world alongside those who are trulyalive. How could that not be scary? Who could just accept that and thinknothing of it.

Therewere only a couple of days of school left. They were just a handful of uselessdays where the kids have nothing on their mind but sit around anxiously andwait for the final bell to ring and announce three months of freedom. Thosepeople had it easy. They let all they learned just float out of their mind nowthat finals were over. But my mind was still buzzing. I was still distracted.Still looking for the ghosts that I knew would be coming to replace me as Corrinehad said. Ghosts are drawn to me because I can see them, that’s what Aaron hadtold me. As long as I could see them, they’d always show up.

Riaoffered to drive me home after school on the third-to-last day of school, but Isaid I was in a walking mood. I felt bad about not telling her about everythingthat happened. I mean, she was mybest friend, but there’s just no way I could tell her. Ria was lucky that shedidn’t have to be troubled with this. Besides, I didn’t want her to accompanyme on the detour I planned to take.

Halfwayhome, I took a different and much longer route through Nightingale Cemetery.I don’t really know what I had planned to replace there, maybe hordes of ghostsjust wondering around and doing their thing, like in that ride at Disneyland. Ijust felt like I should check it out. I had a whole new understanding of thedead now and I guess I just wanted to see how much I learned.

Butwhen I reached the immense stretch of land littered with tombstones, I saw nothing.No ghosts, lifelike or misty, were visible. I went in regardless. Maybe Ishould have known better. Nightingale was a historic cemetery. Nobody had beenburied there for many years. These people probably have all moved on by now.

Istrolled around silently, examining the chipped and sometimes completely brokenheadstones. I couldn’t make out many of the names because they’d faded away.Despite not seeing anything on first arrival, I felt the now very familiarchill creep down my back and a voice in my ear.

“Justwhat were you planning on replaceing here?” Aaron asked, materializing out of thinair as if he’d been with me this whole time.

“Idon’t know,” I sighed in response. “Maybe I just thought I’d feel something.”

“Itold you that people move on most of the time,” Aaron said. He looked like mostof his energy was returning. He was almost solid-looking except that I couldstill see through him a little and, though he had legs, he had no feet.

“Butwhy did you stick around?” I asked.

Aaronshrugged. “I guess I just . . . didn’t like how my life ended. I wanted to seeif I could do better as a ghost. I think it was an okay decision.”

“Ofcourse it was!” I cried. “You saved me back there! Corrine too! That thingmight have gotten both of us if you didn’t show up when you did.”

“Thanks,”said Aaron. “That’s good to hear.”

Ifrowned at him. “You don’t sound like a guy who just saved two people from anInhuman Entity.”

“Whatdo guys like that sound like?” Aaron asked, looking at me questioningly.

“Well. . . I don’t know. Happy?”

Aaronsighed and he seemed to fade a little bit. “Gina, I told you. I don’t . . .feel happiness like other people do. That’s what makes it okay for me to existlike this.”

Iblinked. What a weird thing to say. “What do you mean it makes it “okay” foryou to exist?”

“Youremember the Entity,” said Aaron. “All they are is extreme emotion. Most oftenthat emotion is a bad one.”

“Likewhat?” I said, wanting to understand.

“Y’know,”said Aaron, lightly. “Anger, fear, aggression . . . Dark Side of the Force kindof stuff.”

Iignored the Star Wars reference. “They can’t feel anything good?”

“No,”Aaron replied. “Because they were never alive. They don’t know good feelingsbecause they’ve never experienced them. They look at the living and they justget irritated with them really easily. You have what they never can have.They’re jealous.”

“Sometimesliving isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I said, thinking about Corrine.

Aarondidn’t reply for awhile and we just kept walking in silence. When he spokeagain, his voice sounded even more distant than ever before.

“Gina,take a look around. What do you see?”

Istopped, surprised by his question. I glanced around the cemetery, expectinganother ghost to pop up, but nothing happened. “Um, just tombstones. Why?”

“Yeah,they’re tombstones, but what do they represent?”

“The. . . people who died here.”

“Right.Now count them.”

Istarted to count but there were way too many. I lost count somewhere aroundfifty-six then said, “There’s a lot.”

“That’sa lot of dead people, ain’t it?” Aaron said. “That’s a lot of people who havelived for various amounts of time, in different kinds of times, surrounded bydifferent kinds of people. Right now there’s, what, seven billion living peoplein the world? They all live their lives every single day. They have chancesthat the dead don’t have anymore, or that the Entities will never, ever have.

“Theycan do things to help others. They can become great. They can do magnificentthings while they still can. But, often, they don’t. They live their lives andlive for the moment. They don’t realize that the moment can end. I didn’t. Iwas twelve. I was supposed to have another eighty years on me, but I didn’t.”

Aaronstared out at the headstones with a reminiscent look on his face. He didn’tlook sad, but there was a definite downward curve to his lips. I, on the otherhand, was close to tears. The ghost’s words had made me dwell on life and Idon’t like doing that. It makes me sad and scared. There might be a girl justlike me buried here somewhere and I’d had the audacity to disregard her as abroken old headstone.

“Tosee the living waste what they’re given . . . it ticks the Entities off,” Aaronsaid. “Who wouldn’t it tick off?”

“I’msorry,” I said, rubbing at my eyes. “Does it make you angry? Seeing people likethat?”

“Nah,”he said. “I don’t really feel anger anymore. Things are different on this sideof life. I remember when I died and my parents came in and cried over my body,I didn’t feel so bad. I didn’t yell and scream and demand to be back with them.There was this kinda “oh well” feeling. I still loved my folks but what morecould I do? I was already dead.”

“Ifit doesn’t matter then why did you stay behind?” I asked, wanting only tounderstand.

Aarontook a moment to answer. “I think it was because I didn’t like my ending.”

“Ending?”

“Yeah.I always believed, dead or alive, that life was like a story. Everyone’s isdifferent. It starts when you’re born and ends when you die. Each and everyperson who lives and dies is a story. Each one is different and none are thesame. Some stories have more to say than others, but absolutely nobody’s storyis boring. My story was just getting started and . . . I didn’t like theending. A punk kid who gets into fights and stands up for the little guy getskilled by pneumonia at twelve: the end. I always wanted my story to be one ofthe really good ones. I wanted . . . I wanted someone to hear my story andthink “Wow that sounds like the kinda guy I wanna be”. For it to be cut soshort like that . . . it kinda hurt. Maybe that was just plain selfish of mebut, hey, I’m twelve. I can still get away with being selfish.”

NowI was definitely crying. “I’m sorry, Aaron,” I mumbled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t. . . I . . . there’s a lot about life and death . . . that I don’t understandand . . . I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

“Hey,forget it,” said Aaron, with a little shrug. “I told you that it doesn’t botherme. I’m cool with being dead. It’s not as tragic as the living seem to think itis. All I have to do now is make sure that my borrowed time here is put to gooduse. That way, when I pass on, I won’t have anything to worry about. But thatday isn’t today, so I won’t worry about it. You shouldn’t either.”

Aarongave me a comforting little smile. I hiccupped and tried to return it. “Y’know?You don’t talk much like a twelve year old,” I commented.

“Itcomes with sticking around for twenty years after you die,” Aaron said with awink. Then he disappeared, leaving me alone with the resting dead.

Istared up at the sky. Something had clicked inside me. Things that had beenconfusing and scary before weren’t bothering me anymore. For whatever reason, Ihad the power to communicate with the dead. As such, I had a responsibility touse it properly. Up until now, I’d been scared. Well, there was no time forthat.

Idecided that I was going to help Aaron and any other ghosts that crossed mypath. I was going to make sure that what happened to Corrine never happened toanybody else. It was something I had to do because I was somebody that could doit. My life was a story, as Aaron had said, and now I wanted to be able tochoose what kind of story it was going to be.

Iwasn’t stupid. I knew that this was a dark and scary road and that I’d berisking a lot. I was putting myself in harms way, not to mention Mom and Johnand Maggie and even Ria. But they were going to be in danger no matter what Ichose. So I’m going to choose the path that let’s me know how to keep myselfand my loved one’s safe. That’s what kind of story I want my life to be like.The story of someone who chose to fight, rather than the story of someone wholived in fear.