I open my eyes just as the thunder pierces the silence of the night. I must close the curtains before other lightning lights up the interior of the bedroom and cause me insomnia, but I still lie numb between the sheets and my own stiff finger intertwined. I fell asleep a few moments after returning to my room in an attempt to hold back the tear and the memories… I suppose it didn’t happen the way I planned it: my own dreams have betrayed me. In the ephemeral darkness I see a shadow move from the door and all the way to the window, and then the curtains closed slowly.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
My eyes slowly adapt to the darkness and little by little I start to see the ghost that’s now standing in front of my bed, his fingers tightly gripping the edge of the dresser, and now looks at me concerned and apologizing.
“Did I scare you? That’s why you can’t sleep anymore?” it’s the first time since I first saw him that I hear his voice. It’s extremely deep and hoarse, but with a slight sweet touch and a seductive charm. It makes me feel chills, surprise and intrigue.
I blink a few times to recover from my own reaction and I giggle.
“I’m not scared of ghosts,” I say defiantly, and this time, he laughs, looking away. I notice little creases around his eyes and on the angles of the mouth. His teeth are very bright, the kind that can only be the result of years of treatment.
“No, of course not. You are the one who scares them.”
I remember the little incidents we’ve had and I cover my mouth with both hands to cover a giggle.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You had a nightmare?”
I nod when he looks at me again.
“And mixed with a storm, you can’t get a good result.”
“You hate storms.”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head and remains very thoughtful, staring at the door. And I end up unwilling to sleep. Having him so close and having started to talk to him, I don’t want anything more than to continue and figure out some other things about him. What brought him here? What is his story? What is it that he left undone and now haunts him until he finds some help? But he takes the chance to ask questions first.
“How come…?” he cuts off.
“I can see you?”
“And talk to me and listen to me…” it sounds like he’s sorry for that, as if he couldn’t believe him. “You’re not the only living person I’ve had contact with, but you’re the only one who’s responded. The cop the other day, your mom, the woman who lives with you… at first I thought it was something about me, something ghostly, but now I know that you’re the one with that kind of… gift. But I can’t explain it.”
“There are some things that cannot be explained. One day, it just happened.” I don’t know why but I can’t tell him that when I was little I spent the whole summer in a hospital bed and that my visitors suddenly doubled when the people who died in that hospital walked into my room. It’s something I’ve just told one person besides my mom and, if I think about him anymore, I won’t be able to hold back the tears that sleep has turn off.
“So, you weren’t born with that gift?”
“No!” I answer in a rush. “My mother almost had a heart attack. It took her too long to digest it as it was. But it’s a long story,
He seemed to accept my answer, because he remains quiet for another moment and, through the closed curtains, we are able to see another blinding lightning. I shudder and the red-haired boy frowns.
YOU ARE READING
(Invisible) Red Thread
Teen Fiction“An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break.” – Chinese proverb. Ever since that terrible accident in her childhood, she has bee...
