Last (40)

I saw him

2. I saw him

Our house turned into a library-cemetery-thing, very silent and full of candles on every window we had and our dusty altar where Mother Mary stood so beautiful and calm while our face was in agony and grotesque. Thomas’ death turned our lives upside down for many days, like God shook the snow globe and made us dizzy---freaking dizzy!

It has been days asking myself in the mirror: why him? Why in my birthday?

I gently moved towards my room and faced back on the mirror showing my narcissist side. I saw my lips as the moon’s light shone the room, and then I remembered Chip’s face. I moved my hand to touch my lips and broke into tears. Kippy didn’t eat even a spoon of food, even the spoon itself. She just sat quietly on the couch with her deformed face. She never utters a word, no sound waves from her. So as dad who never said a thing except his grunting and quiet sob every night. I didn’t really know what part did he cried or for whom; was it for Tommy or for the new bicycle that cost a lot? Both of them were destroyed and lifeless. I cried for Tommy, I didn’t know for whom they cry. Maybe mom cried because of my birthday expenses but then it turned out to be horror. Total horror. No comedy, just pure horror.

As I stared on the mirror, a bit praising myself and my beauty, I heard something or someone a child’s voice, Thomas’ voice with the sound of his bicycle. My hair on my skin stood, I felt eerie, and I felt more than that. I cautiously stood and took a peek through the window to see our Lawn of Death.

Slowwwlyyyy…..

Slowwwlyyyy…..

I saw nothing, but a streetlamp that flickers, nearly dying. I sighed in relief.

“Megan?”

I turned and saw Thomas in my room. Yes, it was Thomas, without a doubt. The face of him that looks like him, of course. His freckles, the blonde hair, his rabbit-like-tooth and the shirt he wore when he died. I gulped, and I didn’t scream. I tried not to scream. Surprised and terrified, that’s what I felt. No, I was frightened. I was in fear to see my brother’s body. Body? Or soul?

The moonlight casted through the window and seeing him wanted me to run or just closed my eyes, but I didn’t. Instead, I just stare at him, trying to stay calm as possible as I could, and thinking that he might be vanished again.

“Tommy? Is that you?” I stammered, seeing him without a blood nor a bruise nor a broken arm and cracked skull.

He smiled and gently sat on my bed.

“Is this a dream?”

“|You can slap your face, Meg.”

I slapped my face. Nothing happened. Findings: I was awake.

“Okay, this is not a dream. But why I can see you? Are you real or just some…I mean am I in a reality show? Is there one million at stakes if I believe you? Look, I mean…whatever! Whatever!”

He hoped out from the bed and passed through the chair that blocked his way just like any other ghost themed movie I’ve seen. I stepped back in fear.

“You got a talent,” he said and grabbed my wrist in his small hand. I didn’t feel anything, but I saw that he did grab my wrist.

“Oh, come on. What do you know about talent? And am I a superhero? Would I save a world? Will some agent from CIA will take me soon and name me zero zero zero dot one two four six so on and so forth?”

He giggled and said, “You can see me, so you can see ghosts.”

“But why you’re here. You should be in Heaven right now? Right? Every soul goes to Heaven? Have you seen God? Did Saint Peter let you in? Angels perhaps? Tell me how they looked like.”