The Ghost Child of 34 Manyard Road

Chapter 1: Reality

I had never been the type to show my feelings.

I was always told that, even as a child.

I focused on my studies instead of socializing. I never spoke unless told to in school. Kids saw this as scary. They walked faster if I was to walk in the same direction they were. They never included me in their silly games.

That was fine with me. I could handle being a social outcast.

What nerved me, deep down, wasn't the exclusion.

It's how everyone thought I was just shy.

Nervous.

Maybe even a little stupid.

Which made no sense. I excelled in my classes. I made sure everywhere I went there was A's.

Because I'm not shy. I won't hesitate to stand up to you. I won't hesitate to speak my mind.

I don't mind showing you there is more to me.

————

October 11, 2005.

I was only eight. I was walking home with the group of people that also walked home with me. They made sure to stay a good bit further away. I didn't care. That just meant I wasn't in their stupid conversation.

But I can remember everything. How they stopped at the side of the path. The unanimous "Ewwww's!" and "Huh's?".

The disgusting smell of the rotting flesh.

I came home. The TV was on, my mother watching it mortified.

I don't remember the name. But I do remember the face. A button nose, round puffy cheeks, brown bowl cut, and a pearly white smile that said "My parents are made of money!".

"Isn't that a little boy from your school?" My mother  uttered under her breath. I didn't care if he was or not.

I could only think of the missing face of the dead body.

————

I continued to stay the same throughout the years. However, kids learned that I just never spoke, and fear turned into malevolence. They talked about me. Some even pushed me around.

And they all acted like I wasn't there. Like I didn't know anything about this.

I hate you.

I hate what you did.

I hate that I couldn't get sleep at night.

For the first time in years. I felt emotion.

Misery.

————

It's been years since then. I live sort of comfortably now. I have no children, no pets, and no living family. I'll manage on my own.

The only complaint I have is this house. I think it's...odd. Floors creaking. Things randomly falling off shelves.

I haven't been harmed yet. So I just clean up every mistake. I don't mind. I may just be getting older and clumsier.

Unless...

No. Ghosts aren't real, Irene. That's dumb. Your house isn't haunted.

It's just a theory.

A outlandish one, at that.

But I can't help but wonder where all the ruckus comes from when I'm at work.

I hear a voice calling my name again. It's surely just my mind playing games.

Please.

Please tell me it is-

"IRENE!" My boss snapped at me,  frustrated.

Crap. I zoned out again.

"Sorry, sir. What do you need?" My voice is calm and collected, focusing my eyes on his agitated face.

"Have you lost your remaining sense? This is the third time this week I've had to yell at you for slacking off at your computer! If this continues, I have no choice but to fire you. Do you understand?"

He stared at me with intensity. A chill went down my spine at that threat. It was true, I had been zoning out at work and not having anything done whatsoever. But fire me?  That was extreme.

Of course, I would never say that in front of him. I'm not dumb.

"Yes sir. I promise I won't again."

I get back to typing. I glance from my side, watching my boss walk away.

This sucks.

It all sucks.

But I need to come back to reality.