While I was stranded in complete darkness, arms spread in front of me, hoping to find a way out, I touched something strange, felt like someone’s face.
I don’t want to sound mean, but the dead are pretty clueless. I’ve always seen them. When I was younger everyone thought I was just talking to imaginary friends. After a couple years, when I overheard my parents talk about calling a psychologist, I realized what I was talking to. See, ghosts don’t tend to realize they’re dead, and they don’t look like in the movies, they look just like us. I’m pretty smart for a 12-year-old, so I started noticing certain patterns to tell them apart from the living. They could be a bit distant from living people, or you’d see them try to talk to people who wouldn’t even notice them. Some of them could tell I was different, that I noticed them. Like this guy, I saw after school yesterday. I’m a big boy now, see, I don’t need my parents to pick me up, home is just a short walk away. He was standing away from the other parents, didn’t talk to them, just stared at me, that’s how I knew he was one of the ghosts. I went over, told him I knew what he was and asked how I could help him. I don’t remember much after that, I think because of what happened this morning. Downstairs, my parents were crying. I tried talking to them but they ignored me. They must have died last night somehow; sometimes the new ghosts wouldn’t talk to me. Some police officers and reporters just arrived, they won’t talk to me either, just my parents. It’s weird, I’ve never seen so many ghosts together before. Why won’t anyone talk to me?