Extraterrestrial | #wattys2016

solecism (the end)

Word of the day: Solecism. A mistake, usually in the form of writing or speech.  I wouldn't know what other form to make a mistake unless you accidentally get someone else's food at a drive-thru window.

There I sat.  Hands chained to a table, feet shackled the ground.  Three walls and a large window enclosed me in a holding cell.  I kept seeing officers, detectives, and other people in suits walking by the window, gesturing to me and talking with these strict faces.

It baffled me how people like them could view me as a suspect -- putting behind that I was like them with thoughts, feelings, and a somewhat productive future.  I was innocent, I was sure of it.  My fingerprints and clothes fibers and everything else just happened to be there, but I didn't kill Doug LeRoy. 

I was so scared, too.  The coldness in the room made me more afraid and more likely to hold onto my words and answer to no one.  I hated being alone with my thoughts because that was usually when I would think the worse about myself.

It's funny, the biggest critics, the meanest people, and the best liars can easily be ourselves.  I thought I was doing some good for the office - protecting them from a killer - but instead, it was shifted and I was the murderer.  As much as I didn't like LeRoy, I wouldn't kill him; I didn't think I could even have the courage.  Death frightened me when it wasn't me trying to kill myself.

"You doing okay?"  a familiar, raspy voice asked me.

Tilting my head to the side, I saw the girl.  This time, her hair was brown, not blonde.  "You weren't there at the murder scene.  They're saying I did it."

"Yeah, you're right.  I wasn't at the scene, but I know you didn't do it."

Feeling a confidant, I let my eyes well up with tears as I stuttered, "But who killed him?  There was a knife, and blood, and fingerprints--,"

"Catch your breath, James, they haven't looked at the tapes.  The truth is there."

I managed a smile and made a snuffle sound.  "You see, all my life, I wanted to do something good.  But my mere existence is just uncomfortable for everyone.  Like, I'm a constant annoyance but not important enough for someone to tell me I am.  Honestly, I would like someone to tell me if I'm annoying or not because at least someone would talk to me."

"Bubblegum girl seemed to like you."

I shrugged.  "She'll go after anyone if the opportunity is right.  She'd go after a ghost if she could see them.  But why did The Creepy Man want me to go to his party?"

"To kill you, of course.  A damaged person can read a damaged person real well.  Except, you're closer to being more human than him.  He's an extraterrestrial...the real outcast.  He wanted to beat out the competition but you've won."

Laughing, I glanced over at the girl, who was smiling softly.  "But look who's in the holding cell."

"They just have to look at the tapes."

Right after she had said those words, the door to the room opened and a detective walked in, hands behind his back.

The girl was gone.  As if she had never appeared in the room.

"Mr. Johnson?"

"Y-yes, sir?"

"There's been a mistake."

"A mistake?"  I echoed, my voice cracking.

"Were you aware that Doug LeRoy had murdered a Miss Valentine Reece?"  He pulled his hands out from behind his back and laid a black and white photo of a girl with wide green eyes, thin rosy lips, and brown hair with a hint of blonde streaked through the layered strands.

Choking back the tears, I covered my mouth, making the chains around my wrist rattle for a moment.  "Um, I was not aware.  But, that's awful."

"We watched the tapes.  You killed him after what appeared you both returning from his house.  When we went to his apartment, there were two glasses of water.  One was poisoned with a strange concoction.  Your fingerprints were on that glass and saliva as well.  You must have drank from it sometime during the visit, therefore, you couldn't remember killing him when he attacked you with the weapon."

"So, am I innocent?"

"You were unaware of your actions, much like someone with low intelligence who doesn't know right from wrong, or a minor.  You will be charged as such and given community service.  Strange enough, at least to me, you've done some good through a weird situation."

"What happens next?"

"Probation and a year of community service in order to be a welcomed citizen again.  We apologise for this misunderstanding."  The detective left the room, shutting the door behind him.

I remained seated, completely and happily confused.  I couldn't remember anything that had happened between the time I had left LeRoy's apartment to the time I had gone down to the boiler room.  But whatever happened in between, I was more upset that my dream girl had been a vision leading me to her own investigation. 

Even though I had done a great deed, it only made sense that me, a ghost to everyone around me, would have fallen in love with one.   This was such a bizarre case that ended up in so many abrupt conclusions.  I thought it would be more than what I had mentally imagined in my mind, but, I guess my mind doesn't get to go on a wild vacation. 

I don't think I shall return to the office, maybe I'll move somewhere else.  Somewhere quiet where I can work from home.  Somewhere where I don't even have to both watching people and observing their lives.  I suppose some people are born to be alone.  And I suppose I am one of them.  I'm not too terribly sad about that, I've managed to survive with just my company.

Loneliness isn't all that bad, that is, if you know how to get along with it.  I've learned it doesn't like dark places all the time, some outside is good for it.  It doesn't like a lot of people, especially those who've grown too fond with it as well.  Two lonely people can't be together because then they'll be no longer lonely.   Loneliness also takes more of the mind than the heart, for the heart is most of the time awakened by someone else.

I didn't know I'd be part of a murder case, in fact, it seemed quite out of the ordinary for me.  But it did teach me to stay far away from creepy people and to make sure not to drink from the wrong glass.  My life isn't the best, but it's not the worse.  And apparently I was privileged to see dead people: how lonely must you be to even see the unseen?  Nevertheless, if you think you're ordinary life is boring, do what I have not done very well: live it.

My name is James Johnson.  And your life is much better than mine.

THE END