SEEN

Chapter One: Spotted

Hi, my name is Alex Harper and when I was ten years old, I was murdered. Now, I'm stuck in Beakersville, alone, unseen, and bored out of my mind. Being dead has its perks don't get me wrong, but it loses its novelty after a week of passing through doors, moving random objects, and freaking people out while they're stuck on the toilet. The worst part? I can't remember how I died or who did it, which means my body has never been found. Without closure, I'm destined to spend an eternity stuck in a tiny town full of people who could have killed me, and I can do nothing about it.

The thing about Bakersville is that it's small. Last time I checked it didn't show up on a map which means you either find it by accident or twelve generations of your family have been born and raised here. No one comes here intentionally, and if they do, they leave shortly after. Secrets don't stay secrets, everyone knows everyone, and the cops suck at everything except for eating donuts. Trust me, I know. In fact, the only secret Bakersville has been able to keep is me. For ten years now there have been no clues, no answers, and no arrests. My parents died of grief, and I can't see them on the other side. Not until I get closure. An impossible task when no one can see you.

So, you may be wondering how I plan to overcome my troubles. The truth is, I have no plan. Depressed ghosts do exist and I'm one of them. Even now, sitting in the Grey Goose with a scent of coffee clinging to all corners of the diner, I'm bored. I used to get excited about licking people's pancakes without them knowing, but it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing is entertaining. Not even tickling people's feet at night. Then again, that didn't have a lot of perks anyways. People suck at trimming their toenails, and after one particularly bad case of toe fungus I figured it was best to stay away from feet.

Truthfully, the only joy I got anymore was laying in the middle of the road and letting cars pass over me. Feeling the ground resonate when a two-ton vehicle rumbles by was oddly soothing. On occasion I'd lay next to roadkill to keep them company. With a dead skunk to my left, I felt the sun bake the pavement around me. If I looked hard enough, I could see small heat waves radiating from black tar. It didn't get particularly hot in Bakersville which is why the skunk hadn't become rancid yet, but it was just sunny enough to be slightly uncomfortable. Thankfully, I couldn't get sunburned.

Humming to myself, I felt the familiar tremors of a large packing truck rumble up behind me. It passed over with a strong whiff of Deisel gas, grease, and something that was reminiscent of butter. It must have been heading to the bakery. Deliveries came every Sunday. With a deep sigh, I continued to bake against the ground, fiddling with the front paw of the skunk. I'm not sure what comfort I provided to the lost soul by holding its hand, but it was better than nothing.

"Hey, skunk, if you get to the other side can you tell my parents I said hi?" There was no reply from the skunk. Given my luck, it'd already moved on hours before I was there to babysit its corpse. With a groan that resonated deep in my chest, I sat up to regard the motionless creature. The pavement gave away another approaching vehicle, this one much smaller than the last. I considered laying back down when an ear-splitting horn shot through the silence. Tires squealed on uneven pavement as I scrambled to my feet.

The last time I'd heard a car horn blare in my direction was back when I was alive. Heart hammering, my instincts told me to move, but I couldn't. Frozen in the middle of the road my eyes locked with that of a woman behind the wheel of a rust-colored pick-up truck. Her eyebrows were raised enough to crinkle the skin of her forehead, her eyes open wide with fear, mouth agape as if she were yelling. All the while the horn continued to scream as the front bumper passed clean through my body. With a jerk of the wheel, the truck swerved leaving snake-like tire marks in its wake.

For the first time in a decade, panic gripped me. Head on a swivel, I ran. Legs turning over at a speed comparable to a cartoon character, I hauled myself to the nearest tree line. Hurtling through a tree trunk, I risked a glance over my shoulder. The woman's truck had smacked into a light pole. Steam radiated from the damaged hood where it curled up like a wave preparing to break. Breathing heavy, I tried to slow down but my legs wouldn't listen. Instead, my knees buckled, and I went somersaulting down the pine covered hillside. Twigs and branches snapped in my wake, my body connecting with the mortal world for only a moment before the earth let go of me.

Resting at the base of the hill, leaves floating in the air from my descent, I felt fear bury itself deep in my heart. She'd seen me. Her wide eyes had locked with mine and recognition flickered across her face. That woman, a stranger, had managed to do what others couldn't for the last ten years. She'd not only seen me, she thought I was real. Believed deep in her core that she was about to run over a dumb kid lying in the middle of the road.

Nausea made my stomach churn, and though I couldn't vomit, I was certain I would. Swallowing tightly, I forced myself to my feet and ventured back up the hill as quickly as I could. Approaching the tree line, I saw the same rust colored truck flanked by two cop cars. The woman inside was speaking animatedly to the set of officers, gesturing wildly back to the road where the skunk lay dead. She was upset, that much was clear, but I still had no idea who she was. She'd seen me, that was unmistakable, but how? And why? Whoever she was, she had to be important, and I was going to find out exactly what her sudden appearance in town meant. Even if it killed me all over again.