Ghost of a girl I used to know

A light, a door, and a choice

I have lived in this house for all my life. I have never thought I would have a heart attack and die here too. I was only 24. That's still young but my family, being prone to heart disease, I should have seen it coming. I remember having a pleasant dream when a hammering sound woke me up. After that, I could only hear the muffled sound of dirt covering the coffin over my screams. No one could hear me. I glanced over my shoulder and there was me. My dead lifeless body just sitting there. I couldn't move,breathe,speak, or hear from the shock that I was a ghost. It was so dark all the time. If I knew that death would be this lonely, I would've been cremated. But who really expects death.
I was sitting in the dark, trying to remember my life and I couldn't call upon anything besides a guy...I think he's my brother. A little ball of light appeared at the "end" of the darkness. The little light grew bigger and brighter; I felt like I was being pulled into it. The light started to blind me since I've been sitting in the dark so long. A tapping noise came from my left. I peeked over my shoulder and there was a rusty metal door with a doorknob that had handprint grooves into it. I looked back at the light, which by now I was getting used to, and thought of what it meant. I stared at it for a while, expecting something to happen. I felt the pull again, urging me to be sucked into it and trust it. I began to get suspicious. The light dimmed a little and started to leave from where it came. It suddenly was at the end again, and came rushing at me. I panicked and turned to open the door. I opened it and ran through. A brighter light shone through, making me cover my eyes. I realized I could finally move. I glanced between the cracks of my fingers, which I noticed I couldn't feel them, and my eyes were finally adjusted to the light. I was in my house. All my stuff was gone. It was a nice two story made of bricks and looked like a piece of happiness on three acres of land of cow weeds, being in Texas and all. It was a family farm that was a few hours away from any city. It passes down from generation to generation. Eventually, one of my ancestors didn't want the farm and sold 21 acres from what was of 50. I looked out the window and saw the "for sale" sign stuck in the lawn while a car pulled up with people getting out of it. I kept seeing this, day after day.
After weeks of people looking at my house, checking, inspecting to see if it was good enough for them, a nice little family moved in. I've always wanted to marry and have my own family but since I died,...my family was the kind that didn't care what happened to their kids. My older brother, Rick, (who I now remember) got into drugs and joined a gang called...I can't remember, but later on became a big problem for police. Rick was just 19 but was tall for his age,buff, and had a death glare that most people left him alone. He looked a lot like my dad, who I can recall from my memory surprisingly. Tall, very handsome, muscular,tan, brown hair and eyes. An exact replica. I still remember cops knocking on our door, as we were all sitting on our couch, watching t.v. Of course, Rick answers the door. He didn't do anything. The cops simply asked him,"Are you Rick Jackson?" Rick got a puzzled look and replied with a yes. The cops pulled out their guns and told him to get down in the ground. Rick didn't obey. He ran up the stairs as cops flooded the house and told my father and I to do as instructed. While I was on the floor. I looked up and watched the cops trail after Rick. Next thing I heard was a gun go off and a heavy thud. The cops were then taking Rick's dead body out the front door and left without so much as a word. My dad got up shortly after and grabbed his shotgun mounted on the wall and sprinted out the door. I heard the jingle of his keys and watched him from the front door raise his gun and slowly lower it. He threw it down and cussed at the dark night sky. My father fell to his knees and put his face in his hands, sobbing. He kept yelling the same thing over and over, "Those weren't cops....they weren't cops. I told him if he didn't get his shit together...!" I noticed tears coming out of my own eyes. I wiped them away and helped my dad back inside. After Rick, my dad was an empty shell of a man that he used to be and turned to drinking to make his life colorful. I was basically was on my own. I think I had a mom but I don't remember much of her besides that she was a hippie and left us. My mom had also named me before she left. Claire. My dad told me she named me after her favorite aunt or something. But that doesn't matter now. I'm just Claire. Claire the ghost, I guess. But I'm here and haven't left my home for anything.