Life Sucks: And so Does the Afterlife
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"Oh, um, my name is Sparrow. S-sorry, I'm just a bit nervous." I laughed...nervously. The man in the green jacket and overalls gave her a gaped tooth smile. His salt and pepper hair was thin, but his beard was as thick as ever.
"Sparrow, is it? Welcome. It's a shame, really, to see the young go so fast. You had a full life ahead of you."
I tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Yeah. Had."
Hi, I'm Sparrow. And I'm dead. Sparrow is a weird name, isn't it? My dad thought my eyes were the color of most Sparrows' feathers. I looked it up when I was old enough, and actually agreed. They were a dark brown with specks of amber and gold. My hair was brown, until I dyed it white and cut it shoulder length in a fit of injustice and rebellion. And teenager hormones.
Well, now I have to spend the rest of eternity like this--dead with actual ghostly white hair.
Dead and alone.
Well, I was alone. Until I went to the library and decided to haunt an old classmate of mine (just for fun, of course).
And learned that he could see me.
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