We outlined ourselves in chalk and waited for the yellow tape to follow.
Waiting for somebody to wonder,
wonder why we were dead, even with our racing pulses and our hearts still beating.
We turned ourselves into a cold case.
Buried ourselves to keep our secrets safe.
We grabbed shovels and dug ourselves a hole, six feet deep, then we jumped into it.
We held hands as we waited for somebody to cover us, to finish the job for us.
Nobody did.
The chalk washed away with rain. The dirt became mud. The yellow tape faded.
People still avoid our spot like a curse.
They whisper about our tragic pasts, but their voices go silent as our ghosts glide by.
A chill settling over the air.
A shiver running up a spine.
They all know that we're as good as dead.
A pair of ghosts haunting our own hollowed out frames.
Tell me... how do you save a ghost?
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
Non-Fictionas the title suggests, this is legit going to be my diary. and yes, most diaries are supposed to be secret, but I have always been an open book. I like to pretend to be mysterious, but the people around me will all tell you that I am am someone who...
