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Seeing the Dead

by Tiny Tales of Terror about a year ago in fiction
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But they really are there

Tim was not accustomed to seeing he dead walk around in the street but there was no way this guy was still alive. And there was no way no one else had failed to notice this man. There were cuts and scraps. Blood seeped from what looked to be shot gun wounds. Half his clothes were ripped off of his body. No one was batting an eye and that was especially strange for a small town in Kansas.

The only conclusion Tim could come up with as he watched this man walk casually down the street was that this person was in fact dead and only Tim could see him. That, or Tim had finally gone completely insane.

Tim rubbed his eyes and blinked furiously. He closed them and counted to ten. He did everything he could think of to try to escape the nightmare walking toward him. He just wanted it to go away. The man had stopped, though, and was standing in the middle of the street looking directly at Tim. The dead man’s blood pooled on the asphalt where he stood.

Not wanting to look crazy, even though that was exactly how he felt, Tim turned around as quickly as he dared. He made his way to the doors of the mall while refusing to turn around. He was not sure if he wanted to know whether or not he was being followed.

The man now stood in front of him looking the same as he had before. the only difference was that now he wore a frown on his face. There was no mistaking it now. This man was actually here, in one form or another, and he wanted something from Tim.

#

It took more than a week for Tim to see the man again. When he did, the man looked exactly the same. It seemed as if he would never run out of blood. The man came closer this time and it bothered Tim still. He wondered, though, why it still bothered him if he had seen this exact sight before and had not been harmed.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his mother had told him stories about her own father. The man was called crazy and left to rot in a mental hospital after claiming to have seen dead people walking around. Obviously, no one else saw those people and believed something was wrong with Tim’s grandfather. Tim wondered if he should question his own mental health as well. He wondered if whatever was happening to him was genetic.

Tim’s grandfather had been right, though. At least he had been right when he told other about what had happened to the dead people he had seen. He had always been able to tell you exactly how some random person had died and when they were found, Pops had always been correct.

Now, Tim wondered what this man had to tell him. He wondered why he was like this. He wondered why he and his grandfather had been chosen to see those who had already passed and why they would decide to show up when and where they did.

Tim wondered a lot of things. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to sit down and let this man show him what had caused the death so he could pass on from this world to whatever came next. They were like a pathway for certain people who needed to vent or let go of what had caused their passing in the first place. Without people like Pops and Tim, these people would have been stuck in an eternal limbo.

fiction

About the author

Tiny Tales of Terror

Obsessed with writing. Trying to make it as a writer and accounting student, a mom, living on my own for the first time. Crazy on top of everything else. Thanks for reading!

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