Sweet Dead Sixteen

Chapter 7

It was already dark when I surfaced from my grave. I had slept for longer than I thought; it felt like only an hour had passed. I must have really needed the rest, I now felt fully energized. I remembered my task and headed for Leah's place. I was not going to haunt the girl named Sarah; she never talked behind my back and had even stood up for me a couple times.

Leah had a small average one leveled house. I let myself in. When I came to her bedroom I peaked in and didn't register what I was seeing at first-it was Leah kneeling on the floor next to her bed, her hands clasped in prayer. I listened carefully as she whispered her prayer, "Dear Lord, please watch over Angel's mom, and I pray that Angel may find peace and rest... Amen." I watched as a few tears slid down her cheeks and then she climbed into bed. I became a little teary eyed too. When she fell asleep I went over and planted a tiny kiss on her cheek as a thank you for her prayers. I retreated to my cemetery; now more unsure than ever.

I sat on top of my grave and let out a couple tears. A few other ghosts were up and wandering around or getting ready to rest. I've never spoke to others like me, it's just too depressing-from what conversations I've overheard all they talk about is death or how they kicked the bucket. There isn't very many of them anyway, because most of us go to the 'Higher Realm' or whatever you want to call it. The ones left behind have unfinished business here on Earth or they simply choose to stay for loved ones or for some other reason. I could never bring myself to leave my mother behind. I glanced around; everyone was in their graves and dawn was approaching. I thought I was alone until I heard a boy call to me in a singsong voice, "Now what is a lovely young girl like yourself doing in an old creepy graveyard?"

I whirled around off my grave to see a young man across the cemetery leaning against a rather weathered looking headstone. He looked like he could be around my age. He saw the tears on my face and glided over to me. "Why are you crying?" I turned around so I didn't have to face him. "What's your name," he persisted.

I barely whispered, "Angel."

His face lit up, "Angel, why you're as beautiful as your name."

I blushed at the compliment, though I doubt he could tell with my paper white skin. I looked him over; he had wavy dark brown hair that fell in a mop over his eyes, and his eyes were the warmest shade of amber I had ever seen! They reminded me of thick oozing honey being slightly illuminated by the sun. His lips startled me, they were unmistakably blue and his clothes appeared wet. His skin was almost as pale as mine. He wore old fashioned looking clothes, but they were stylish, in a rustic way. A long-sleeved cotton frock with a leather coffee brown vest, and to me what looked like skinny jeans. Not to mention he was very muscular. He could've stepped right out of some fashion magazine. According to all the magazines I had ever read, he was ''model material''. Realizing I was probably staring a little too long, I finally asked him, "What's your name?"

"Mason McAllister," he replied coolly. After a few moments of awkward silence he said, "Let me show you this really cool place."

Before I could object he was already dragging me towards the old part of the cemetery. He led me to an ancient weeping willow that overlooked a small pond. He swiftly grabbed me by my waist and easily hoisted me up on a branch and sat beside me. "Thanks for the lift," I said dryly.

He smiled. Oh, what a perfect smile. "So how did you die," he asked.

Here we go with all the lovely talk about death. I quietly told him my story anyway.

He seemed to be thinking really hard about something. "What about you," I asked, breaking the heavy silence.

He gladly answered me, eager to tell his story, "I was drowned by my older brother." He glanced over at me to see if I was taken aback by what he said. The surprise must have shown on my face because he suppressed a satisfied grin.

"Go on," I said, trying not to sound too interested.

He continued, "Well my brother had always been very jealous of me, he thought our parents favored me over him. Can't blame him though, I am super handsome," he joked as he flicked his hair and did a silly pose. I giggled, he had humor, I'd give him that. "Anyway, on my sixteenth birthday he was outraged by all the expensive gifts my parents had bought for me. When the party was over he asked me walk down to the lake with him, which was just outside our little ranch, he told me he wished to give me his present alone and personal. It sure was personal alright-as he continuously dunked my head underwater he swore at me and told me how useless and stupid I was."

I felt horrible, "I'm so sorry Mason..."

He shrugged sadly. I watched the tiny silver fish flit freely about the pond as the morning sun slowly began to rise. Out of the blue he asked, "You're going to go after those people who ruined your life, aren't you?"

His question caught me off guard. "Um, well yeah, I kinda already have..," I said slowly, my voice trailing off as I looked at my feet. I became annoyed, I felt like I had to defend myself. "They deserve every damn bit of what I'm doing to them! They made my life living hell and now I'm dead because of it!"

He looked at me, a bit surprised I cursed. "Angel, it's not worth it trust me. Just let them live their lives, as pathetic as they may be, and get over it. They'll get what they deserve in the end," he said, trying to reason with me.

"How can I," I asked icily. "They drove me to insanity! I died. Someone has got to pay one way or another. I can't live, er-be dead knowing they're still living their lives not even sorry for how they treated me. It's just not fair! They're the ones to blame, not me," I shouted, on the verge of tears.

"But is it the right thing to do?" He drifted off to his grave, leaving me alone again and feeling miserable. I didn't know what to do, I felt so alone. I needed my mother.