"Emilee? Did you hear my question? Would you come to my graduation?" I ask my step-mom, I shift my weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. Standing here waiting for her attention sure makes my legs ache, ten minutes to be exact, while she scrolls fruitlessly through her Facebook page. "What'd you say, brat." She murmurs, I repeat my question flatly. "Your daddy ain't gonna go so I won't either." She states blankly, but then it all hits me, my dad won't attend my graduation? This is the most important one, a dramatic transition from Middle school to High school. Ever since my mom was brutally murdered, my dad seemed to stop caring about me, because he's usually hanging out with his friends- alcohol and marijuana. When he's not behaviorally modified by substances, he takes Emilee and my little brother Benson out somewhere other than these four walls, but I have to stay and 'watch' the house. What happened my blood-mom is a no-no around him, he wants to forget about her, but not one person besides Emilee can forget the gnarled, bloody body lying on my parents bed. Her way of going sounded painful, she had bruises on her neck and had one big stab wound, right into her stomach. It causes my stomach to turn just thinking about it. I escape my thoughts to glance around the empty living room, Emilee must have left. And I must have absentmindedly sat down on the couch. I miss my mom, Emilee could never replace her and she doesn't even want to, she says 'Oh, I'm way better than that old raisin, at least I know how to protect myself.' My dad wouldn't approve of those snide comments, but she'll make sure he's not in the room first. She'd brag and wave a mace in the air, like a mace can stop a crazed, unknown stabber- but once again, that's none of my business.
My disdain for Emilee goes on in infinite loops, never stopping for one moment, not even a nanosecond. My little brother Benson on the other hand, is the only reason I haven't thrown myself into a ditch. He can be a complete demon child sometimes, but is overall a good boy, he's a sensitive kid, hates getting hurt by others, but would give anything to save the pseudo-homeless guy living on the street that leads to the Thrift shop. I sigh hopelessly, then drag myself up the stairs to my room, I hear a series of rushed squeaks and footsteps behind the closed door. I swing it open and slam my hand down the light switch, my room is immediately illuminated brightly, I see no one or no thing pacing the floors. Oddly enough, my window is open wide with the curtains flapping uncontrollably with the wind rushing in. I slip my phone out of my pocket and look at the time, it's about 8:30 pm, I don't really bother with opening my windows so who opened them? Maybe it's just Benson trying to get on my nerves, he may be only 8 but he's very smart and sarcastic for his age, little rat. I walk over to the window and calmly lock the latch and slide the curtains. The wind blows again harshly, hitting the glass and emitting a squeaky sound, just like a lost kitten. Depression hits me hard again when I think of my only friend, a little cat named Mickey, a lanky female which I'd adorned with a cute little baby blue collar. A silver name tag with her name that said 'return me' at the bottom, although she'd been gone for a year, she died. I shuffle to my bed and plop down in the middle, cherishing every memory of my little friend. Her pitchy mewls were the most adorable thing I've ever heard, she was beautiful too, jet black with pure white patches on her back, paws and ears. I remember crying when I got her, on my 11th Birthday, only because I never wanted her to grow up, I even nicknamed her 'gatita', which means kitten in Spanish.
I don't know whether I still love my dad or not, sure I care the world about him, but do I love him as a an engaged, focused parent? No. If he feels that drugs and drinks are more of a priority than family, he's not getting an award for 'Best Father Of The Year' anytime soon.
I switch off the light and put my phone to charge, then lay down and pull the blankets over me. I don't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard a soft voice utter a smooth...
Go To Sleep, Go To Sleep...
👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻
Alright my very patient potatoes, I've decided to disregard anything that relates to me in this book. I'll have you know that none of the above mentioned has anything to do with my homelife. I don't have an annoying step-mom, or substance addicted father, not even a little brother. Mickey is, surprisingly based off of my cat Mimi, I also have plenty of human friends, my parents and sisters are awesome, so please keep this in mind that this story has almost nothing to do with me. I know I may be the most annoying person for changing my mind already but I hope you guys enjoy this story without thinking or worrying about me.
Please enjoy this story and have a wonderful potato filled summer!
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They Call Me Ghost
Paranormal"I wish I was understood, but now I'm too far gone..." I, Leah Forrest has become a proxy of one of the most feared members in one of the most feared groups, Creepypasta, I was Leah, but now I've changed They call me Ghost.
