Is She Really Gone?

 “We are gathered here today to witness the burial of someone whom we all loved and cared about,” said the pastor. “Mary Jo was an amazing girl who would do anything for anybody. It’s a shame she had to pass so suddenly…”

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            I couldn’t focus on anything the pastor was saying. I just couldn't get over the fact that the love of my life had been taken away from me. My love, my happiness. She was gone, forever. I would never see her alive again. I looked over to her casket. There she laid, her skin morbidly pale, just ready to be buried beneath the dark brown earth, away from the life she once lived.

            Later on that night, after everyone had gone home, I gazed around my empty mansion, now so much emptier without Mary Jo. Since it had just been the two of us, most of the house had never really been explored or used; now, all alone, it gave an eerie air, that someone was there, watching me. I shrugged the feeling off, and sighed as I went up the stairwell, and made my way to the bedroom. “Things will never be the same around here without her,” I mumbled to myself as I got ready for bed. After I settled down, I took one last look over at the side of the bed that was once hers, and cried myself to sleep.

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           It was after some unknown amount of time had passed, that I was awakened, though not wholly, by a voice emanating from the darkness. A familiar one, at that.

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            “You'll do just fine without me, Johnny,” came Mary Jo's echoing voice. That's when I perceived her figure, grim and ghastly, just standing there across the room. She looked as beautiful as any corpse could be.

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            “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be dead,” I responded, perplexed and frightened.

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            “You see, Johnny, I am dead, but I can't crossover until everyone knows how I died, and who killed me.”

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            “What? Someone did this to you… on purpose?!”

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            I snapped out of my dazed state, and frantically looked over to where she'd stood in the dream. She wasn’t there, but in her place laid a scrap of her funeral garment. I scurried over to pick up the piece of floral fabric. “Could this be true? I mean, it's possible. She died so suddenly and unexpectedly, from ‘unknown causes,'” I rambled to myself, my mind racing a mile a minute.

            Then, out of nowhere, a series of bangs and crashes resounded through the floorboards from the kitchen down below, startling me. With fear and curiosity, I slid my slippers on and slowly opened the bedroom door, the hinges squeaking with little discretion. I timidly peeked out, checking if the coast was clear, and then quietly slinked down the dark, meandering hallway to the staircase, each floorboard groaning ominously. I crept down the steps, gripping the banister to prevent my shaking body from tumbling down. Once I'd safely descended the swirling steps, I made my way to the kitchen. I cautiously entered, my mouth dropping open in horror at the scene before me. The room was trashed, everything scattered in disorder; silverware was strewn about, pots and pans were mangled and dented, and the fridge stood wide open, glass shards from broken jars littering the floor.

            “Is anyone in here? Show yourself!” I shouted out, panic setting in. A sudden and violent clang sounded from behind me. When I spun around, there, written in red ink on the wall, were words I never thought I'd see, reading “Everyone will know you poisoned me, Johnny. Everyone will see your true colors through your false innocence. Your time will come - Mary Jo”