The Ghosts that Remain

When I was seven years old, I thought I was cursed. It started as whispers; low tormented calls that drove me insane. Whispers that woke me up at night to nothing but a cold empty room. Then came the physical, I would be pushed down, my hair pulled, or my clothes ripped. My parents didn't know what to do. I'd come home with ripped clothes and messy hair all while sporting skinned knees; they drew their own conclusion. I was being bullied- they were only half right. They'd call the school and demand to know who had picked on me and physically harmed me. I kept silent. They wouldn't understand, the one time I tried they thought I was covering for my offender. Since it never got better, we moved and the whispers stopped. I was relieved. I was normal again, until I wasn't.

I had just turned nine and was playing with my friend, Emily. We had just moved all the new toys I had gotten for my birthday outside and were playing with the Barbie's I received. I was playing with my favorite blond-haired Barbie with the pretty orange dress that sparked and horrible pink plastic shoes. She was using Ken, he had on a nice tux like shirt and board shorts. Together we were putting on a fashion show for the toys, it was her favorite thing to do, and I was enjoying the summer heat. Until I was tapped on the shoulder by the woman. She was beautiful, like the Barbie I was playing with, just like she had always been. She always had on this flowing white nightgown and her hair was in a messy braid, it made her look beautiful and wild. But, she glowed this strange white color. I was always captivated when she appeared. Sometimes she stood at a distance, other times by my shoulder; however, always when I played with Emily. She's never touched me before though. Ignoring my friend who just looked annoyed when I set down my Barbie, I turned to face the woman. Mom and dad always told me "Stranger danger", but she didn't look dangerous. In fact, she looked like she needed something.

I still remember her voice. It was like soft music from my dad's old speakers, she sounded far away and slightly filled with static, he loved those speakers with a passion. You had to unplug them three times before they actually worked and they smelled like mildew. Mom always told him to get rid of them but they compromised by keeping them hooked up in the garage.

"Can you help me?" She asked, tears running down her unhappy face. I didn't like seeing someone so sad, especially someone as pretty as her. So, I took her hand and smiled. My friend Emily had had enough at this point and threw Ken down, "Hey, why are you ignoring me! You said we'd play with your new Barbie's today!" She crossed her arms, pouted, and stomped her foot. She always had a temper and hated it when things didn't go her way, maybe because her mom spoiled her so much. I just liked being her friend because she had a pool and threw awesome slumber parties.

"I just need to go talk to my parents real quick. This lady needs help." Emily's mouth fell open while I held the pretty lady's hand in mine. I remember her skin was so cold, which seemed odd for such a warm day. She gave me a look that said she didn't believe me as a cooling breeze blew gently through my front yard, shaking the leaves of the cherry blossoms trees my mother loved. "Who are you talking about, there's no one there!" She blew out a hot breath from between her pink glossy lips as her soft blond curls danced in the breeze with her blue polka-dotted dress. "If you don't want to play anymore that's all you had to say, you don't need to lie to me!"

I was confused, didn't she see the pretty lady who looked so sad? Didn't Emily see her asking for my help? I must have looked as confused as I felt cause Emily started to look a little weary. "You actually think there's a lady who needs your help? Why you?" The comment stung a little and I hunched my shoulders under her harsh gaze. "She came up to me and said she needed help." I muttered almost shyly, losing all my confidence, I deflated like a balloon. The pretty lady seemed to finally notice what was going on and she knelt down to me, "She can't see me, Alice," How did she know my name? "You can see me though, you're special like that, you can help me." I turned my face to Emily. "She says I can help her because I'm special and you're not." My blunt honesty was always my downfall. Emily's baby blue eyes grew wide in anger and then started to fill with tears. "I'm special too! I'm telling my mom you're being weird and making stuff up!"

She turned around to run back home, so blinded by tears of frustration she didn't see the car coming while she ran into the street.

We always had people that would go really fast in our neighborhood. We put out these yellow signs that looked like kids holding red flags. The signs weren’t out today.

I remember letting go of the pretty ladies hand and yelling out while my short legs tried to carried me to Emily. "Emily, wait!" she didn't listen and the car didn't slow down until her small body was flying through the air. She looked like a tiny acrobat from the circus my dad took us to. It seemed like the world went silent for her, the birds stopped chattering and our neighbors dog stopped barking. But then it all came back, the birds, the dog, and the squealing of the car's tires as the person in it hit the brakes. Emily landed with a sickening crack as her skull hit the ground. Bright red blood pooled around her blond hair, looking like the thick cough syrup my mom made me take when I was sick. And then a scream, a cry so agonized the birds stopped and the dog whined out.

My parents raced out of the house along with Emily's mom. The scream was from me, I realized, I was in hysterics. And then I was confused, with tears running down my face I saw Emily run back to me, same blue polka-dotted dress, same curly hair, and pretty tan skin. Except her skin seemed to glow a light white, like the pretty lady behind me. I thought she was running towards me until she passed me, completely ignoring me, ran into the arms of the glowing lady behind me, and disappeared.  I was still crying as her mom let out a sob that seemed to mirror her heartbreak on the inside. My mom swept me up and ran for the house while my dad ran to Emily's mom, his phone to his ear, calling for an ambulance. The person in the car got out, it was a teenage girl; her makeup running down her face from scared tearful eyes, rushing out apologies and excuses. All I saw was Emily's mom lunging at the teenager as a cry of rage poured out of her mouth. All the while my dad, who had dropped his phone, tried restraining her as she fought like a feral cat. Once the door shut, I asked my mom where the pretty lady went, mom told me there was never a pretty lady to begin with. I asked what would happen to Emily and my mom just sniffled and softly smiled at me through tears. Well honey she's with her mom now in heaven. My body shook more and my eyes went wide. "But her mom's outside!" I said almost hysterical. "No baby," she sobbed out, "Her momma died when she was five. She got really sick and couldn't be around anymore. The woman outside is Emily's aunt Jessica, she is-..." another sob" was, taking care of Emily."

We sat together on the couch for a while that day, both of us crying at what had happened not even fifty feet from our front door. Eventually, I fell asleep on my mom's lap, exhausted from the crying, all the while restless as I thought of Emily and the pretty lady.

Since that day I saw more glowing people that I realized others couldn't see, and then I came to realize these people were dead. I could see them and no one else could. I told nobody and kept it to myself, mainly out of guilt. Emily was dead, I may as well have been driving the car. It ate me up on the inside and drove me into a dark depression until my mom pulled me out. My mom, always the light in our small family. We moved around a lot after that. Death seemed to follow us though, neighbors just seemed to drop like flies with us around. Heart attacks, nasty falls, drownings, I hate to say that I got used to it, I started to expect it. And some twisted part of me always wondered, upon move-in, what this neighbor would die of.

It's been seven years since Emily's accident, we just moved to Roosevelt, a town so small the grocery store is next to the high school, and everyone somehow knows each other. My parents think this small, close knit community will help me; they just didn't look into its history first.