They Know Me

A VOICE ...

Sitting through my classes the next day at school, time passed unbearably slow. I'd even been distant with Rhys. He'd said I seemed uptight. I'd dismissed his comment, saying I was just in a bad mood and wanted the day to be over with, but that was a partial lie. Disinterested with anything school-related, my mind had been otherwise preoccupied. The previous night I'd had an epiphany, of sorts. I'd dreamt I was ghost hunting in a remote, unfamiliar place and could hear the voice of a little girl calling out to me from a secret place to come and play with her. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find her. When I'd awakened, as frustrating a dream as it'd been, I was more certain than ever that my dream was justification that I'd been right in attempting to communicate with the dead. It might even open a door to speaking with others, like Mr. Kennerly, who wanted my help, or to pass on a message to loved ones. And then there were those like the one I'd encountered at Cortland Bridge; harmful because they could be.

Finally, the last bell rang of the day rang. I got up and started for the door.

"Ashe, wait," Rhys said. "I have to go over some math with Jenson. I won't be long."

"That's fine. I'll walk."

"Are you sure I didn't somehow make you mad? Because if I did, you haven't bitten off my head yet ... or, did you and I didn't realize it was gone?" Pretending to be desperately worried, he reached up to his head to feel for it.

"This is why you don't have a girlfriend."

He dropped his hands. "Hey, there are plenty of girls who'd love to go out with me."

"I'll see you later." I left the classroom and hurried down the corridor.

I stepped outside. It was overcast – the perfect setting for what I planned to do. So no one would see and suddenly become curious enough to follow and see what I was doing, I quickly went to the small hill at the back of Cemetery Raven and scaled it. At the top, I looked behind me. No one had followed, or even seemed to have noticed where I'd gone. Leaving all thoughts of school and classmates behind, I headed over to the large mausoleum I'd admired, and went to its front to read the nameplate. "Sorry, Ange Lucien Lazare, I'm crashing your space for a few minutes." I moved behind it and stayed peering around its corner. After what seemed like forever had passed, Rhys' car finally came into view. He slowed, turned onto our street, and then continued on to his house.

With no chance of him seeing me, I focused my attention on the graveyard. Feeling optimistic I'd hear a disembodied voice because of my dream, I took out my recorder from my backpack and turned it on. "I'm back ... like I said I'd be. I had a dream ... about a little girl who wants to play. Are you here? What's ... your name?"

In my head, I counted slowly to twenty to give any nearby spirit time to respond, and then held the recorder to my ear to listen as I played it back. "Please, let me hear something," I whispered.

Nothing.

I called out, "The funeral home and Cortland Bridge ... have ghosts. I've seen them. I believe Cemetery Raven ... has them, too. I can sense your presence at night ... and your loneliness. I don't care if you don't believe me ... I believe in you and I'm not fooled into believing you don't exist! Please come out. I'd love to hear your voice!"

I held out the recorder and counted to twelve. I put it back to my ear ... there was only my voice. I wanted to scream that it was unfair and I'd never hurt them! But didn't. They weren't to blame – I was. The ghosts, if there were any inside the cemetery, weren't obligated to make me feel better, even though I wanted them to. It was too closely, and painfully, similar to when I'd stood at parents' grave and silently begged for a sign from them ... and when they hadn't, I'd walked away feeling empty. Again – my fault.