Ghost In the Graveyard | COMPLETED

• 3/10 • Paranormal Encounters

"We Must Be Killers" by Mikky Ekko

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Thursday: October 20, 1994
9:40 AM

It wasn't until nine days after my death that I decided to go back to school. If I were still breathing, it would've been the last place I'd want to be. But I craved anything that might make me feel even the slightest bit alive again, even if it meant torturing myself by sitting through an hour of hell, pretending to listen to Coach Tuffman ramble on about something stupid that will never help us in the future.

I needed a break from being home anyway. Being around my family while they were so stressed and broken was getting too depressing. It was about time I got out and stopped moping over myself.

As far as I knew, my body was still missing. I looked for it myself, but still hadn't found it. The witches were clever, hiding it somewhere no one would find. But I wasn't about to give up. I had an eternity of walking the earth in my afterlife, which provided quite a bit of time to search.

But today I would be attending third hour health class. I sat down in my old seat, thankful to see no one else had taken it in my absence. Karen wasn't back in school yet, so the seat behind me was just as empty. Too bad. I was really hoping to see her.

Before my death, I would have done anything to get out of sitting through one of Tuffman's boring lectures on the wonders of the human reproductive system. But now that I was dead, I would do just about anything to feel alive again. Even if it meant spending an hour through torture.

The bell rang, and students took their seats and pulled out their notebooks and pens. No one looked thrilled to be here.

One student walked in late, his hood up so I couldn't see his face. He handed Tuffman a pink slip of paper, and the teacher nodded in understanding. The boy turned to his seat and started toward it. He finally pulled his hood down so I could see his mop of disheveled black hair and ocean blue eyes. They locked with mine, and both of us froze.

I blinked, but every time my eyes returned to him he was still looking at me. He was looking right at me.

"Scott?" Tuffman asked from his desk. "Is there a problem?"

This seemed to jar Scott out of his shock. "No, sir," he finally answered, which might have been the most I'd ever heard him say.

He made his way down the aisle but stepped around his usual seat to take the empty one right behind me. Tuffman eyed him, curious of the seat change, but didn't say anything. He stood to begin the lesson.

I couldn't get myself to turn around to face Scott. I was too much in shock. Had he really seen me, or was I imagining it? I didn't want to face the truth, either way. I was afraid.

Scott's chair moaned as he leaned forward. I felt his warm breath tickle my ear as he spoke in a whisper, "Do they see you too?"

He was asking if I was dead—a ghost. Oh my god, he could see me. He could see me, and I was a ghost.

If my heart could beat, it would've been going a thousand miles a minute.

I shook my head slowly. Finally, I forced myself to twist in my chair and look him in the eyes. This close, our noses almost touching, I could see there was a ring of green around his pupils hidden within his blue eyes. His breath smelled of apples, and I could see the faint green stain on his lips from the cough drop he held captive under his tongue.