earth angel. [m.j]

1

[SPRING OF 1971]

Michael calmly arranges the action figures on his desk, making sure each comic book character is visible. His youthful and thin build sways around the room as he hums lightly along to one of his songs. He embraces the beauty of his new home, inhaling the fresh air provided via the open widow. Out of the 20 available bedrooms, Michael picked the one closest to the backyard, so the fountain below is visible along with their two pet German Shepherds which patrol around the garden.

He curls a strand of his fro, daring to wander into the still empty bathroom. He glances at his reflection, displeased at the sight of a small dark blemish on his chin. He quickly runs the cold water onto his hand, and splashes it onto his skin, rubbing it vigorously in hopes it disappears. He removes his hand, and curses beneath his breath as it remains on his skin. He tries to ignore his annoyance, and wanders towards the old furniture in his room in which the house came with. He runs his finger across the top of the dark wooden chest of drawers, collecting dust onto his padded fingertips. His germaphobic instincts take him to once more wash his hands.

Indira watched from within the walls of the home, her anger soon subsiding. Instead of medalling, Michael simply admires what she still believes is her room. The first person to not mess with my things, she though to herself. She grows fascinated, watching the strange boy (to her knowledge) flick through pages of a small book, with prints of odd alien figures and fake characters. She narrows her eyes, hovering herself beside him, and looking down onto the page, as he scribbles small notes beside the pictures in cursive writing that Indira is unable to read. She reaches out in fascination to touch his delicate appearing hand, but is left with nothing more of a shiver from Michael, and he quickly closes the book. She grows at the heavy feel of rejection yet again. She follows him across the room, and sits beside him as he crosses his legs on the queen sized bed, his large eyes occupied to a novel. He silently breathes, as his mind is taken into the imaginary world of his book.

"Hello?" Indira whispers hopefully, leaning close to him, and waving her translucent hand. Nothing.

"Are you ignoring me" Indira grumbles, suddenly feeling anger seethe through her ghostly body, and grabs ahold of Michaels lamp, and lunges it across the room. She gasps, noticing her ability to touch the lamp. She's never been able to do that. Michael holds a hand over his mouth, and quickly runs over to the lamp, and placing it back where it belongs on his bed side table. Indira tries waving at him, but he doesn't see her. She then notices this is yet another case of being ignored by the owners of the home. She doesn't want to haunt Michael, she just wants to be his friend. She doesn't mean any harm.

She angrily throws her fists around in a fit, trying to catch Michaels attention, as he is still fixed into his book. She gets so angry, her hand falls through the mirror in which is propped in the corner of his room. Painfully, instead of swooshing through the object, her hand travels through the mirror, dragging into Michaels dimension. She gasps, as her whole body is drawn through it, letting her fall out of Michaels mirror. She notices she is able to touch the carpet, and feel the oxogen rushing through her lungs, and wiggle her toes, things she hasn't used in 21 years. She fearfully jumps through the mirror again into her dimension, scared she may have disturbed Michael, and he might have seen her. She swallows hard, watching him undisturbed, his eyes still attentively locked into his book. Thats enough medalling for tonight, she thinks.