I was woken up the next morning by a man whom I hadn’t seen before.
“Hey, buddy,” He said quietly
I gave him a scowl.
“Not my buddy, I guess,” He sighed “I’m Bobby, I mark the Unseens.”
I rubbed my eyes, “What time is it?”
“Three in the morning.”
My eyes widened and before I could open my mouth to say something he blurted out.
“Hour of the dead, buddy. Everyones awake at this hour and some Mortals can see you.”
“Some?” my voice croaked
“Yeah, some. Mediums, psychics, and people who are just ‘ghost prone.’”
He added quotation marks around ‘ghost prone.’ Bobby then took me to the basement of the hospital and sat me down on a chair that had a red leather pillow where I rested my arm.
Bobby grabbed a small metal gun with a needle set at the bottom. He then began drawing into my arm with the gun.
“Why doesn’t it hurt?” I asked
“Cole, you’re dead,” he laughed “You can’t feel physical pain anymore.
For the next thirty minutes Bobby drilled black marks into my arm and at the end of it all a plane was dug into my arm.
I was now officially a ghost. And I certainly wasn’t dreaming.
YOU ARE READING
The Unseen
ParanormalMy name is Cole. I've never really had any friends, I've never quite been happy, and I've never exactly found the importance in my heart beating. Then my plane crashed.
