Moonlight

Full Moon Swing

 

I swing my legs. I grip the chain connected to my seat. I lean back and let the wind caress my body. It is a feeling that  I hope to never forget. I am alone here, it is the middle of the night after all. But the moon...is full and bright, and it is a welcome sight. I gaze up at it with every upswing, a smile on my face. The chains slightly creak with each momentum and I do not fear if anyone approaches me. I am far from my home, but I worry not about strangers. I don't worry about much anymore. Being dead rid me of that some time ago. So, I swing.
   The moonlight is refreshing, a balm to my quiet existence. I used to believe I was cursed, stuck to this playground for the rest of my....life? Is it life if one does not have a heartbeat? Or am I just onto another chapter of a book, like my dads used to take turns reading to me at bedtime? Maybe not another chapter, but maybe a side quest- a final journey to wrap up my time on earth and receive my reward afterward? I have so many questions, I laugh to myself. The swing does this to me- resets my thoughts and reminds me that while I am indeed dead, I still have a zest for life. Or unlife? I giggle and kick my feet harder.
   I recall my first full moon after my murder. It was indeed a murder, I was with my parents at this park- loving the noon playdate with my friends. I drank so much juice while playing I had to pee so badly. I sprinted to the nearby toilet shack, yanked the door, and there was a stranger. A demented old woman grabbed me and whispered horrible things to me as she shoved my face into hers. I didn't know what to say as she drooled and moaned with some weird mix of sadness and anger. Her words were either plain madness or gibberish. She was so ...frantic, it was like she couldn't decide to kill me or hug me until I was smothered between her rancid breasts. I remember her face, covered in tears but red as a cherry- and then darkness.
  Then there were snowflakes. I didn't see them, I felt nothing at first but then the tiny little pinging on my skin brought me to. I didn't just wake up, I felt as if I was born again. Instead of a crying baby being forced out into light and life, I was a spirit being introduced to this world through a buffer of sensation and sound. I don't believe every spirit gets to be born this way, so I genuinely feel lucky. The snowflakes were not snowflakes - it was the moonlight, my first perception received by my spirit eyes. Somehow light is different for spirits. All I can figure is the more natural light there is, the more pressure I feel, and I can't handle any more than a flashlight. The moonlight is just right for me, It is like smelling trees of your favorite candy on a light breeze. Not too much, not too little. So I gradually realized I was on the playground, all alone. But then I saw the swings, and I instantly ran to them.
   I'm not stuck on the playground, I can move anywhere in the park. The walls, once plain iron fencing, are covered in purple ivy and firefly-like insects. The closer I get to the walls, the brighter they glow. I haven't gotten any closer than a few yards, I make them glow like headlights when they detect me and that hurts, so I keep my distance. The rest of the park is as it was when I was alive. nothing has changed, either because dead kids don't pay attention any more than living ones, or because I've forgotten how to perceive time. I miss both my dads, but I can't remember how long ago I died. I'll have to work on finding out. So I continue to swing, deep in thought.
  This is usually how I spend each night, running and playing throughout the park. I'm not alone- there are the squirrels and chipmunks, the occasional raccoon... and the other spirits. They aren't all kids but a few are. Some are from the early 1900s, a lot are from the 1800s. Only a small number are from my time when we remember radios, video games and saturday morning cartoons. I love explaining video games, especially when the other 'modern' kids jump in and we rave about Dr.Mario and Game Boy games. I sometimes lose myself in memories of my dads and the house we had, and so much more. The others have to stop me or I'll get stuck in remembering. That is bad, because I'll worry more about what Was instead of what Is. Why waste my energy living in a memory, the past isn't what it was and neither am I. Giggling again, I swing high and notice something.
 
Not something-someone.