Music in the Endzone (Wally Clark)

The Football Star

2022

Split River High School Music Room

Eighteen years have passed since my death, and I've settled into a routine here at Split River High. Every morning, I wake up in the music room, the place that has become both my sanctuary and my prison. I start my day by playing the piano, letting the music flow through me, and remind me of who I used to be. Chopin, Beethoven, Debussy-each piece a connection to my past and a comfort in my present.

After my morning practice, I wander the halls, observing the living students as they go about their day. It's strange, watching life continue without me, but it's also a reminder that the world moves on, even if I can't. I avoid the other spirits, preferring the solitude of my own company. Most of them know better than to bother me. I've earned a reputation for being unapproachable, thanks to my habit of throwing things at the window whenever they peek into the music room.

But not everyone is deterred by my reputation. Rhonda, another spirit who haunts these halls, found me one day. She was persistent, refusing to be scared away by my usual tactics. Eventually, I gave in and let her stay. We bonded over our shared fate-both of us murdered by someone we trusted. It was a painful connection, but it also brought a sense of understanding and companionship that I hadn't felt in years.

Rhonda and I spend our days together, sharing stories of our past lives and the injustices that brought us here. She has a fiery spirit, always ready to fight against the unfairness of our situation. Her determination is both inspiring and exhausting, but it's nice to have someone who understands.

Despite our bond, I still prefer my solitude. The music room remains my refuge, a place where I can lose myself in the melodies and forget, if only for a moment, the tragedy that binds me here. The other spirits know to keep their distance, and I am left alone with my thoughts and my music.

Life-or rather, existence-has become a series of routines and rituals. It's not the life I dreamed of, but it's the one I have. And in this strange, ghostly existence, I've found a way to endure.

I was in the middle of playing one of my favorite pieces when I noticed a face peeking through the window. My usual reaction kicked in immediately. Without missing a beat, I grabbed a nearby metronome and hurled it at the window, expecting the intruder to flee like all the others.

But instead of running away, the door slowly creaked open, and in walked Wally Clark. I recognized him instantly-his picture was plastered all throughout the sports side of the school, a former football player who died in the 1980s during the homecoming game. According to Rhonda, he has a reputation for being friendly and curious, but I had never interacted with him before.

"Hey, easy there!" he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I come in peace."

I narrowed my eyes, still gripping the piano bench as if it were a weapon. "What do you want?" I asked, my voice cold and guarded.

Wally smiled, a charming, easygoing grin that seemed out of place in this ghostly existence. "I was just exploring and heard some music. Thought I'd check it out. Didn't mean to intrude."

I relaxed slightly, though I kept my guard up. "Well, you did. So now you've seen it. You can go."

He didn't move. Instead, he walked closer, his eyes scanning the room with genuine interest. "This is your place, huh? The music room. It's nice. Cozy."

I sighed, realizing he wasn't going to leave so easily. "Yes, it's my place. And I like my solitude."

Wally nodded, but he didn't seem deterred. "I get that. But sometimes it's nice to have company, you know? I'm Wally, by the way. Wally Clark."