Sixteen and Dead

i. Xavier

i. Xavier

Do you ever have those days where you're on auto pilot? Where your hands and feet take you to the places you need to be but your mind wanders? Today was a lot like that, today was my auto-pilot day. It was the usual basically. Chester was nagging about his needy girlfriend and Gwen was busy studying for her chem final. It was completely ordinary and utterly boring until I got onto the train, that was when I saw them. The ghosts.

I would see them everywhere, at school, on the streets, at the coffee shop. I usually kept to myself, trying not to get their attention. I've encountered some pretty wicked ghosts by accident though. I saw Heath Ledger's ghost. That was an interesting conversation. All the ghosts I've encountered usually knew they died. They've told me the stories of how they all passed away, some more gruesome than others. I got my gift from my mom, apparently it runs in the family, just my luck.

There's this slight glow to them, it's like they're illuminated in the crowd compared to what any other human being would look like. I normally wouldn't say anything to them, the dead ones. But today, on the train in that very moment, I couldn't help myself. It was crowded, as per usual at this time, people stuffed into every possible corner just anxiously waiting to go home to kick back and relax. I was squished up against the wall of the train, nearly half the cart away from the gorgeous ghost. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, she was too pretty for her own good. But I could tell that her death was something out of the bag. It was just a feeling I got whenever I saw a ghost. Like an energy vibe almost.

She looked over in that moment, when I was quite literally drooling. She corked one of her brown eyebrows at me. I smiled to her, completely forgetting that she was dead and I was supposed to follow the rules my mom taught me. She frowned, a dimple coming into place between her brows. She had the prettiest green eyes I ever saw, but they were twisted with something I can't quite define.

I was about to break the number one rule about ghosts, don't talk to them. I knew I couldn't strike up a conversation on this crowded train so I did what any rational person would, or could do in this type of situation. I pulled out my notebook and wrote her a note.

“Eighth Street West Station,” the train called. I could see her move in the crowd towards the doors. I had to follow her, I had too. One of the coolest things about seeing ghosts, is that you can touch them. Which is kind of weird if you think about it...

I rush to catch up to her, crushing my note in between my fingers. I bump into her carelessly as I drop the note into her bag swiftly. She flashes a glare as I walk past her, staring over my shoulder as if to be confused. The funny thing is that she stares back with a frown forever written on her beautiful face.