Shards of Black Glass

An Invitation of Death

I see nothing when I open my eyes. No moonlight shines through my window. No owls hoot in the trees. No mice skitter around in the walls. No one is there, but the room is full of people.
   

A man steps forward, baring bloody teeth, and snarls, "Tonight, young one. Tonight you will be forced to choose your fate." He is shoved away by a woman. "Your choice will affect us all. Leave us or don't. It's your choice." A little boy, clutching the hand of a little girl, steps forward, weaving around the man and woman's legs. "Remember us, Saira. Hope rides on your shoulders. Just don't break under the weight of the world." 

The others crowd closer all murmuring,    "Saira. Saira. Saira." When they get too close and suffocate me, I burst awake.

   

"Saira! Saira! Come on, get up!" I start awake, opening my eyes to the bright, early morning sunlight. I look around my small room, thankful that I don't see the translucent people from my dreams.

    Then, as I grab some clothes from my dresser and walk out into the hall to go to the bathroom for my shower, I'm stopped by a tall girl with auburn hair and bronze skin. She smiles at me and waves. I do the same, barely noticing that the teenager is slightly translucent and I could see right through her chest to the couch in the living room.

    "Hey. I haven't seen you before. What's your name?" I ask the girl, and she smiles shyly. "Aria. I used to live three floors down until a few months ago. Drug overdose," she says to my questioning look. I nod, remembering the drama of two and a half months ago. Supposedly, a seventeen year old girl had committed suicide, and her friends blamed each other. Her parents went mad with grief and had to be sent to asylums to avoid danger towards themselves and others. They had claimed to see their daughter's ghost, speaking to them in dreams and sitting at the dining room table during dinner.

    But I know that they're not crazy. I know. Because, like them, I have the power to see ghosts.

    Some people acquire the power over time, usually after a horrific incident. Others, like me, are born with it. And still, others gain it through practice. I look Aria up and down, my practiced eye tracing the weariness of her shorts and tank top, the frayness of her Nikes, and the dark bags under her eyes.

    "Is death good to you, so far?" I ask her as I walk towards the bathroom. She shrugs, her long hair falling over one shoulder. I open the white bathroom door, and am confronted with another ghost. The boy turns, a playful smile on his severely burned face, one of his sky blue eyes missing. He waves at me with his left hand, since the entire lower half of his right arm is missing. His burned clothes, the remains of the fire he died in after his drunk dad lit a fireplace after taking out his son's left eye, are a painful reminder of the cruelty of people.

    I sigh, "Mikey, out. We've been over this. You can't watch me while I take a shower. You're too young." Mikey laughs and replies, "But I'm fifty-six, Saira! I'm older than your boyfriend!" I roll my eyes and say, "I don't have a boyfriend, Mikey." The boy laughs, and says merrily, "That's what you think!" and then disappears into white smoke, which quickly fades away into nothing.

Aria stifles a laugh as I roll my eyes at her, closing the door; it passes right through her entire left side, but I know from experience that ghosts don't mind that. I start to undress, turning away from the mirror hanging over the sink; I don't need to see the reminders of my past.

    The hot shower water runs down my hair and back like liquid pain reliever. I feel my scars twinge, but ignore the pain. I hear my roommate, Jasmine, pounding on the door, yelling for me to hurry up. I can almost imagine her auburn hair flying wildly as she pulls it into a ponytail, her dark eyes flashing with thoughts. I groan, but Jasmine is already out the door; the dull sounds of the rattling door frame and bobbling doorknob sound through the apartment.

    Reluctantly, I shut off the water, and grab a towel from the rack next to the shower. Wrapping it around myself, I step out of the bathroom in a burst of steam. I hear Mikey giggle somewhere in the kitchen, and roll my eyes as I start my Hot Pocket in the microwave.

    I hear my phone ring in the living room as I pull on my shirt. Picking up the plain black rectangle off the couch, I hold it between my shoulder and ear and press "answer". A man's voice crackles across the speaker as I pull on my jeans. "Hello. Is this Saira Collings?" I flinch at the sound of my last name, but say, "Yes, it is," in a normal tone of voice.

    "Good. Saira, this is Alex Diron, off of the Paranormeon Crew. We're down a man, since one of our camera crew just resigned. We saw your information and resume when you applied for the camera job a few years back. Do you remember that?" 

I nod, then remember that Alex can't see me. "Yes, I remember," I say into the phone as I pull open the microwave door a second from the end so it doesn't beep. I hear papers shuffling on the other end of the phone, then Alex's voice comes back.

    "Are you still willing to do the job?" I laugh, and say, "Yeah. I've been waiting for two years." I hear Alex's soft laugh, then his voice saying, "Alright. We'll meet you at McKiy's Cafe. At noon. Is that okay?" I smile and say, "Great. I work there so it works out perfectly." 

Alex laughs again and says, "Good. See you at noon then, Saira." I hear the phone click, and take the small device away from my ear. I save Alex's number in my contacts, then hurry up and eat my Hot Pocket.

    Pulling on socks and shoes, I hurry to grab my keys off the counter and hustle downstairs. I go so fast I barely register Aria's voice saying, "An invitation of death you just received."