Day faded to night before the light could reach and warm my heart. Death seems to do that. I died a year ago, in a "tragic" accident. That's what I hear anyway. I don't remember much, where I lived, how old I am, what I did, not even my name. All I know is that I'm dead, and no one can hear me.
That's probably the worst part, being alone with no one to talk to. Sitting at a bench with millions around me 24/7, bit I still have no one to hold me.
Death is cold. it's bitter and feared all around the world. And now I know why; days aren't real.
I'm the only one of "my kind", and I'm determined to know why. Why am I the only on who knows my pain. Why am I the only one I know who is held to this world by thin threads...
I wonder the streets, cold in the winter months. I cry silently for some one, any one at all to hold me. People walk through me, and don't even look back. I stroll around parks and wish for someone to run into me, maybe even knock me down. just something to get any attention from anyone.
All I have to do is wait. time is nothing now. It's something to the living, but to the dead, it's nothing more than a dream of life.
I sit on this special bench every day to pass after-life time. Everyday I sit and have fake conversations with people, and the act like there answering me, but I know they arent; they are talking to the living people around them. Without being seen, I have no purpose, so I always ask God, why won't you let me pass.
Loneliness is the only one I have, but very few dogs and squirrels seem to see me and know my presents. Animals often stop and sniff at me and then run away. Life, after-life that is, is rough.
I sat on my "special" bench, I don't know why I sit there, I just do. People walking by me like I'm not even there, but, i guess, I'm really not. Young man sat on the other end. He had short brown hair and wore jeans and a white t-shirt. He was just sitting there, doing nothing but watching the different people walk by. I decided to try and stir up some conversation, but I figured it was useless. I still continued on with a louder than normal "hi! what a lovely day. don't you think?" A few seconds after i said something, he didn't answer. "Figures..." I said to my self. and to my amazement, he said "what figures? That a total stranger doesn't respond to you?" I stared at him, and he looked confused. He just talked to me.......b-but how? "You can see me?" I managed to squeak. He replied with a "DUH! It's not like your invisable" and rolled his eyes. I didn't know what to say. I got up and walked away and vanished in thin air,(like I could always do) and never looked back.
I returned to the park bench, waiting for his return; hoping it wasn't a dream of imagination, but rather, reality. I sat for hours, and again, time wasn't nice to me.
Day turned to night again, without a single person to come and see me. Nights are long, but time is all I have. Really, i have no time at all. Life goes fast, many wish to slow it down, but each day, it goes faster as they wish and soon it's all spent with their wishing and wondering. Once one is dead, we wish of faster time, till the end of all existence. Then, and only then, will they be free, and be able to break the threads that hold them to this world. Then they will join God in harmony with the angels. I do wish for that day.
