Spirits || l.h

0.2

[Luke's POV]

I keep walking, not knowing my destination. After my failed attempts to talk to some people at the park, I decided to leave  and walk. So here I am, walking.

An invisible walking dead member of an Australian band.

I don’t know what to do. Is this what’s suppose to happen when people die? Just walk around people but not being able to contact anyone? Can I see other dead people? If I can’t see other dead people then this whole spirit thing is just depressing.

It’s just sad to look around all these people enjoying their wonderful days in LA, not knowing that they’re all going to end up dead and lifeless.

I envy their oblivion.

I sigh and keep walking while looking at the people around me. The man in the suit going to work, the lady walking her dog, and the little short man sitting on the bench. He must be 4’10”.

“Midget.” I say to myself as I pass the man on the bench.

“WHAT’D YOU CALL ME?”  an angry voice echoes my ears.

My head snaps to see the little man looking at me with furious eyes.

Did he just hear me?

I walk as slowly and reluctantly as I can towards the short man. “C-can you hear me?” I ask him.

“Yes.” He says as the anger from his eyes slowly drains.

My mouth opens as if to say something but quickly closes. What am I suppose to tell him? I’m dead and somehow you’re probably the only one who can hear and see me?

The man jumps off the bench, fixes his suit, and snaps his fingers.

Suddenly the whole scenery around me of people walking changes to the park I was sitting in almost an hour ago. What the hell?

“What did you just-“ I start but he cuts me off.

“Listen here, kid. You’re dead. You probably know that by now or you’re just an empty egg shell.” He says.

What a good company he is, hint hint sarcasm.

“Yes I did figure that out, actually. What I need to know is who are you and how can you hear and see me?” I ask him, trying to sound strict.”

He clears his throat dramatically and says, “My name is Raphael. I am one of those whom were sent from above to inform you what had happened to you and what to do. Kind of like a gurdian, no wait, not a gurdian..”

“What to do? WHAT TO DO? I AM DEAD! WHAT DO YOU THINK I SHOULD DO?” I scream off the anger I hadn’t realized I’ve been holding, ignoring the other part of what he said about being "sent from above".