Ghost

I don’t remember my story anymore. I don’t remember my life, name, whether I was male or female. Nothing seemed to matter, but in a good way. I was in a constant state of content. Never hungry or thirsty, hot or cold. No emotions, nothing. No color. I seemed to just…float, in and out. I know I wasn’t there, anymore. I know people I knew were sad, longing and missing me. But I had to continue, and I did. It was my job, my entire being and “existence”. My everything. People had many names for what I was: ghost, spirit, entity, etc. I was no longer among the living. So, I continued to be the only thing I knew how to be: Me, a presence no longer alive. As time passed, though, things changed. I changed. Bits and pieces of my life, my old life, memories would come back in chunks, forming and morphing, and then fade away again and I couldn’t be sure what they were and or what they meant exactly because everything was foggy; obscured. It was like looking into a smudged mirror or through a camera lens but there was a film over it, distorting the image beyond. Time might’ve been the key, might’ve been why everything seemed to change. Like, after I’d waited long enough, I discovered my appearance. I’d pass by mirrors and window reflections, not really caring or wanting to see. Until I did. I’d stopped, watching in a window’s reflection, as others walked past, around, and through me. So, this is what I looked like. And then a small voice unfurled, peeling itself from the deepest and darkest corners of my mind, it seemed so far away for so long: Alex. I had an identity, but I still didn’t have a past life. No memories, interests, likes, or dislikes. Nothing. Yet. And maybe I’d never get any of that back, my old life. Time would only tell, though. So, I drifted, content as usual. But with somewhat more of a purpose. Finding out who I am was something. Beyond that, it was blank. A nothingness. The knowing feeling of not being a part of the living world anymore was…necessary. It was just part of who I was now, but I wanted more. I didn’t just want to know who I am, but who I was, who I used to be. What was my life before death? How did I die? I’d frequented the same house over and over again, memorizing the colors of the walls, where the floorboards led, watching dust particles float in the sunlit air that poured from the windows. To me, it was just a house, but I wondered if it was mine or if it belonged to someone else, someone I knew. How strange this all was. Before, I’d never thought about why I was here. Maybe in my living life, I’d thought about the afterlife and what it would be like, where I would end up. Once I was here, though, I was just…here. Remaining. And there were no thoughts about it, no reason behind it that I was trying to seek. Now, though, now I wanted to know. Had to know. More. The emotions and feelings were still nonexistent, but something inside me was stirring. That, I was sure of. But I continued like I always did, moving through and among the house. Until I noticed the bay window. Eyelet lace trim curtains hung neatly over a cushioned bench piled with an assortment of plump pillows, overlooking a small, fenced garden. This was new. I only ever recalled the inside of the house, never the outside. I remember scratchy grass on bare legs, dirt beneath nails, the sun’s warm rays and the wind’s soft breath on pinkened skin. It seemed like pieces of my life were slowly clicking into place as the earthy smell of nature hung sweetly in the air and then was gone. I stared at the pretty, tiny garden and sighed. I don’t know how much time had passed afterward as I continued my journey through the house, admiring the outside from time to time, when I realized, one day, it was nighttime. Before, everything was bathed in the faint yellow of the sun and now, the windowpanes were a darkened blue and black smear of color. Yes, of course. There was day when the sun shone brightly with life and colors, and there was night when the moon and stars took its place in the sky, dousing the world in inkiness. What wonder! To realize there was so much to a life, a life bursting with swirls of colors, sensations, varieties of emotions and people and conversations and places, all to enjoy at one’s leisure. So that’s how it went for a time: walking the same halls and entering the same rooms, watching as the sun lifted into the cloud-stained sky just to sink and be replaced by a blackened sky dotted with pinpricks of stars and a white mottled moon. One night, though, I stared for so long out of the night hewn window, that I saw something flash. It was small, a tiny dot that would illuminate for a few seconds, and then disappear once more. At first, it was just one. I watched with interest and curiosity as the glowing speck slowly began to multiply, continuously burning bright and then dissolving back into the darkness. The stirring came once more. More forceful this time, stronger. I remembered. I was remembering. This. This moment with the…

“Fireflies! Fireflies, look!”

I’d shouted this. I was excited to see them, wanted to show someone and have them be aware of the flying glowing insects. I wanted them to feel what I was at that moment. Did they? I knew the person was close by, it was just the two of us out here past the little fenced in garden, in the yard beyond where the grass grew quite taller because we couldn’t be bothered to trim it this far out. I glanced over my shoulder; saw the dark silhouette of a figure a few paces back. I was happy, happy to be with them, to have them nearby to witness. I turned back to the fireflies and smiled at the luminous small orbs sparkling beautifully across the dark backdrop of the wooded area further off in the distance, lined by trees, their tall forms stark against a deep blue sky. I opened my mouth to say their name, to express what I was feeling in that moment, when that stirring overcame me once more. It started in my lower belly, skin flushed cold, hairs pricking on my arms and the back of my neck as simultaneously beads of sweat trickled on the sides of my forehead and I knew, felt, that something wasn’t right. And the very last image I remember seeing before the world as I knew it went away forever were the fireflies. Lovely and bright and shining and I thought, as my eyes closed against the pain and swallowing darkness: I was amongst fireflies.