The Boy that Haunts the Crosswalk || Short Story

Don't Joke About Murder. I was Murdered Once and it Offends Me

Alright, I'm going to be blunt with you guys. I'm dead. To be more specific; I was murdered. Although, no one knows that and they think that it was my fault that I died. Poor souls, if only they knew, and poor me. Every week I hear people call me an idiot for dying.

    "Man, how do you not notice that the crosswalk said to stop?" They ask as they approach where I was killed. I mean, come on! The audacity.... But let's get back on topic, I guess, or maybe I should start with an introduction and how I got to where I am now.

    First off, hi, my name is Kai Foster. I'm Korean and I had bleached and dyed brown hair that was in a K-Pop idol style and brown eyes. When I died I was in the middle of my Freshman year. God says that he was surprised when I was suddenly murdered, usually, he plans deaths, but he couldn't plan a murder. So, when someone died from the hands of another human, he would weep in his room until three in the morning. How do I know this? Well, I guess I should just get on with the story of how I died.

    I had just gotten out of school from Drama club activities, I was on the Props Team. It was already turning dark, and the wind brought a winter chill. To get home I had to pass through an eerie part of town. I call it "eerie" since the town never bothered to put up cameras on the electric poles, and it was oddly quiet around five p.m.. The buddy that I was walking with said goodbye to me as we separated. I went down said eerie path, and he continued straight ahead to the non-eerie part of the city. Lucky him.

    So, now I was alone and a bit frightened, and yes, I am a man, but I was still scared. That's probably why I got called "girly" and "feminine" in elementary and middle school. I stopped at the many crosswalks even though there were no cars whatsoever.

I remember thinking that this would be the perfect place to kill somebody, no witnesses, no cameras, I jinxed myself. Shame on me.

I rocked back and forth on my feet to pass the time, and also to show the crosswalk sign that I was impatient and ready to go home, so hurry up and give me that orange walking man. I was almost out of the eerie part of town and coming up on my neighborhood when I came upon one of the last crosswalks, luckily I didn't have to wait.

I don't remember much of what I saw, I hurriedly jogged across the road, and then in a flash, I heard an engine roaring towards me, turning my head to where it was coming from I saw an old turquoise truck. The street lamp above me shielded what the man behind the wheel looked like from afar, but as it edged closer and I didn't move quickly enough I saw a sinister face through the glass. Fist clenching the steering wheel, smile as wide as the Cheshire cat's, and eyes frantic. He hit me.

Getting hit at full speed hurt less than I imagined. All I felt was a strong sting and then everything went numb. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the orange man disappear, the truck stop, the man getting out, pulling his phone from his pocket, putting his phone up to his ear, and then he started to speak.

"Hello, police?" He said, his face not matching up with his worried voice. And that's all I heard. My eyes fluttered shut, and I felt like I slept for a thousand years.

Then I woke up. My eyes shot open and I gasped for air. I flew up into a sitting position and patted my face. I felt alive, but when I looked around me I wasn't in my room or a hospital. The room around me looked like a full-on mansion. The walls were pure white, the windows were huge and allowed a nice view, and I was sitting on a fancy white chaise lounge with a gold border.

At first, I could only form a "Wh-Wha-Wha...." That's when I heard a loud wail from upstairs. I hesitantly got off the couch and tried heading upstairs.

I put my wrist against my temple as I fought a ginormous headache. Thirty or so steps and five whines later I made it to the top. There was an arched doorway, leading into another room where I saw an individual huddled under his covers in his king-sized bed. He wailed again as I crept closer to his bed. Upon further inspection, he had curly, pure white hair, and looked rather young from what I could see.