I'm dead

I woke up, I'm dead, and I'm alone?

Chapter 1

 

 

How do you know that you’re dead? I guess you know it when you see your body being buried six feet underground, or when you are attending your own funeral with flowers and tears. I know that I’m dead when I stood next to my own grave stone watching my body being lowered down the ground and slowly being covered with dirt, my mum and dad crying, mum was on the ground because her leg are too weak to support her, I also saw my classmates from school, my neighbors and hell even some random guys I don’t even know are all there mourning for me. Yep, I’m definitely dead. After that what happen? If you ask me, after that, you realize you are dead, your future is gone, your dream will never come true yet life goes on with or without you. People move on, they forget about you, you’ll become a memory that crosses their mind in some fraction of their free time. I remember sitting on my own grave stone, watching my mum and dad come to visit me every week, then it’ll become months and slowly before I know it will be years and my sister will enter high school and I will never be there to congratulate her on getting into high school, her first prom, except watching. Oh and my bad I haven’t really introduce myself haven’t I?

 

My name is Dylan Hudson.

 

I was twenty one when that bloody truck hit me, knocked me off my bike and completely take everything away from me. Ironically enough, the truck driver not only he’ alive, he only has his license taken off him and 2 years charge. I know it bad, but at least after that he can still start again, but I’m just here. For the past three months of my so call new life, all I have done is wandering around every single spot in the city and realize, now that I’m a ghost I can only go to place that I been to before when I was alive and I can’t stay too far from where I’m buried. It’s sucks but there nothing I can do about it. I also realize that there is no heaven or hell since nothing happen to me. I don’t see any light at the end of the road, I don’t see and angel taking me to heaven or even any devil taking me to hell either. But at least I’m not completely alone. I have made a new friend here in this almost empty city, his name is Thomas, but most people call him Tom or that how he wants to be called. He was thirty two when he died. Tom died because of an overdose in drug. He told me once before that it was the best thing that happen to him, dying he meant. At least now that he dead, he doesn’t have to worry about making a living, buying food, struggle to survive and free to travel everywhere well almost everywhere. Unlike me Tom has travelled to every single corner in the city.

 

The only thing he regrets that he never gone to the beach when he was alive and now he wish that he did so he could be at the beach watching the sun rise since it’s most beautiful time of the day according to him at least, which remind me maybe I should do it, watch the sun rise since I don’t even sleep.

 

“Morning Tom” I said as I pat the older man on the back

“Moring” Tom answered me in his thick British’s accent, loosk up, waiting for me to start the conversation as he too lazy to start one today.

“Have you seen anyone new?” I start.

“No, just us”

 

The older man shakes his head, his brown hair moved along with his head. One thing about us ghost is that the clothes we wear when we die is the clothes that we going to wear forever. Tom was wearing his hoodie along with his baggy jean when he died, while I was wearing my batman t-shirt which sadly are covered in my own blood which is disgusting I might add. God, if you do exist, at least give me clean clothes to wear when I die, is that too much to ask?

 

“Do you ever wonder why there are so many grave there, yet only us two here?”

 

I ask him whilst looking at every single grave in the cemetery, that question lingers in my mind and follow after it are strains of questions. If those graves there belong to someone, then where are they? What happen to them? Will it happen to us as well?

 

“Not really? I mean I rather have this place to just us rather than have to share it with some random guy who might as well be a psycho” Tom shrugges, the man seem to be pretty content with idea of ‘owning’ this place.

“Yea, but do you have a slightest curious about where they have gone? Or even what has happened to them?”

“Look, Dyl, you were fine a few months ago why the sudden questions?” My eyes squint at the nickname.
“It just suddenly cross my mind” I shrug, try to sound as casual as possible.

 

When Tom doesn’t reply, I know he agrees with my answer or simply that he just doesn’t care. We sit there just looking at the grave yard or more closely at our own grave; they are like mirror to us now. We can’t even appear on mirror, all those crap about how ghost can appear on mirror and possess someone on horror movies that used to scare the s**t out of me are just a bunch of bullshit. I can’t believe that I let myself believe it and even sleep with the light on after every time I watch a horror movie.  

            After a few hours of just sitting there looking at our self, I decide to go for walk around the city. Just sit there the whole day is not my kind of thing. As I stroll down Hyde Park, this place always calm me down no matter what happen. The road with the trees along two side that lean over almost create a giant hall way, and when the sunlight hit the gaps between all the leaves and touch the ground as they mixed around with the green of the leaves are the most beautiful and peaceful thing I have ever seen. I felt peaceful there and for one second until someone bump me on the left. My eyes instantly opens, only one person can touch me and doesn’t go right through me here is Tom. But before I can ask what Tom is thinking for bumping into me to get my attention when all he needs is to shout out my name. No one can hear him but me anyway. But it’s not Tom, the person in front of me freezes my tongue right on the spot. It’s a girl. Brown hair with blue streaks, along with her beautiful blue eyes. She smiles at me with a tin of blush on her cheek:

 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking”
“It’s okay” I found myself shuttering, she can see me, does this mean she just like me?

 

Another one just like me, I feel the shock paralyzes every part of my body, at the same time happiness has also crept it ways around the non-existing vein in my body. I want to ask her, but nothing comes out of my mouth as my body is still in shock. I see the confusedness in her eyes as she just awkwardly smile and walk away while my brain still trying to get my body to work. No no, she’s walking away, that when my body has decided to listen its rightful owner. But she’s already gone. I run toward the direction that she has walked to, but I found nothing. Disappointment falls heavily on me, I kick the rock on the ground and watch my own foot go right through it, it doesn’t reduce my frustration at all it just make it worse, but at least now I know other than Tom and I there also her. We are not alone after all. I rush back to the cemetery; Tom is still there I literally tackle him down to the ground joyfully:

 

“Tom, you’re not going believe what I see today.
“What?” Tom looks at me puzzle.
“We are not alone, Tom we are not alone” I shake the man at every word I tell him.

“I’m aware of that, we live in a city full of living people after all” Tom brushes my hand off him, and try to sooth the non-existing crinkles and dust off him.

“No, there this girl” I shake my head.

“There girls everywhere Dylan”

“But this one is different, she could see me and touch me”

“Who is she, is she dead? What the hell I’m asking, of course she’s dead, and where is her grave?” Tom asks me, I can see curiosity and excitement in his eyes but I can’t answer his question because like Tom, I don’t know who she is.

“I…I don’t know.” I shook my head confusingly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he’s clearly annoyed with my answer.

“She was gone before I could ask anything” I ruffled my hair and let out a sigh, I should have grab her and don’t let her go until I know who she is and more important whether she is dead or not. There something about her that makes it hard to believe that she’s dead.

“Then it’s pointless mate, She’s might even be at the nearby cemetery that you never set foot in,  For all you may know she already gone back there and might never come back” Tom looks at me as he give me a slight nudges. 

 

I unwillingly agree with him. Tom gives me a wide smile as he try to cheer me up though all he got in return was a forceful weak smile. He says that we should sneak into the cinema to catch a movie to lighten the mood up. I don’t want to let the man down, so I go along with it. During the whole movie, I still can’t stop myself from thinking about her. Who she is? What is she? Will she be able to answer all the questions I have? Will she know the reason why we are the only one here? The questions appear non-stop like an un-solve jig saw, one question after another. When the movie finish and Tom asks me how I feel and after I tell him I’m ok because only one question remains.

 

Will I get to see her again?

 

            Everyday after that, I find myself at the park, in that very spot trying to see if she will ever pass the park again but all is in vain as I find nothing but tree and people. I start to doubt my memories. Memories can be un-reliable sometimes; maybe she is just a figure of my own imagination. Maybe my mind creates her because I’m desperate for answers or maybe Tom’s right, she has already left.  I look up at the trees again, watching the light travels through the tiny holes on the leaves and blend the light with green of the leaves create a dim light that give you an airy feeling light almost you are lying on the clouds. I close my eyes, if I never see her again, if she isn’t real at all then at least this magnificent view is real.

 

            “Is it me or you like to be bumped into?”

 

I open my eyes in less than a fraction of a second afraid that if I open my eyes too slow I will lose her again. But there she is, standing right in front of me with a dazzling smile. I found myself starts to paralyze again, but I manage to speak properly this time:

 

“Are you dead?”

 

            Her eyes squints while she tilts her head in confuse. Why are her eyes squinting? Why is she confused? I’m dead, she can see me, she can touch me and hell she can talk to me so isn’t she dead as well? Or supposed to be dead? I see her lips parts as she just finishes paralyzing after my shocking question:

 

“I’m sorry? What?” Her eyebrows crush against each other seem like what I has said offended her.

“You’re not dead?” Different question same meaning since my brain refuses to believe that she’s not dead. Does this mean she’s like one of those weird psychic?

“No, and you are?” She said, and I can hear annoyance in her voice the moment she speaks.

 

She’s offended, really offended, but right now I’m too confuse to even care, I look at her, shrug my shoulder and nod. I look at her face, searching for something like I always see on movie, people when they figure out they can see ghost they freak out but instead she just laughs. So all movies reference about human reactions are wrong? I shake my head confusingly:

 

            “Why aren’t you afraid?”

            “Of what? You? You’re dead” She kept laughing, loud to be exact.

 

            I feel a bit offended.

 

            “Raven, Raven Lyall” She tried to suppress her laugh as she puts out her hand for a handshake.

            “Dylan Hudson” I hesitantly shake her hand. It’s soft and warm, something that me - a non-living craves for. 

 

I look around and see that everyone look at us weirdly. No, not us. They are all looking at Raven. It must been weird to them, seeing a woman shaking hand with thin air. I immediately pull my hand back, let out an awkward cough, scratch my head slowly, a habit I always do when I’m nervous. “Keep calm, Stay frosty” I repeat those four words in my head over and over again until my hand leaves the hair behind my back alone. I cough again but this time instead of scratching my head again, I ask a question:

 

            “Are you a psychic?” 

            “No, I own a shop”

 

My eyes are widen with surprised but instead of explaining what she means by saying that, she just giggles.

 

            “Then how can you see me?”

            “I don’t know, maybe I’m special” She gives me a little smirk as she winks her left eye.

            “What do you mean by you own a shop, what exactly do you sell?”  

            “Come to my shop, I think you’ll be interested to sell a thing or two”

 

            My eyes widen. I’m dead, there nothing on me to sell. Literally nothing. Even if I do, not that anyone can touch them or even see them to use them.

 

            She looks at me as if I’m the oddest creature, while it should be her, and never before I feel so confuse under her questioning eyes. I see her hand reaching for her bags, get out a pen, scribble something on her hand and show it to me. I squint my eyes and move closer to her hand looking at the small letters on her hand and read out loud like a reminder to myself:

 

“Nostalgia shop

525 George Street”

 

            “You sell antique stuff?”

            “Oh Dylan, they are more than antique.” She shakes her head and laugh again.

            “What do you mean by that?”

            “Come on, you’ll see”

 

            She smiles and starts walking at the same direction that she walked last time I saw her, but this time I’m walking with her. We get on to one of the buses, technically she get on the bus and I just follow it. I have never ridden a bus in my entire life; it’s always my bike and I. The bus stops at George Street as she keeps walking with me behind her. I try to avoid to talking to her after receiving a few glances from people around. We walk passes the Galleries, I stop for a few second to look at it. The place always brings back memories. I bought my favorite pair of shoe here at this place. Vans Limited edition, as I still wear it right now, well sort of wearing it. We stop at a small shop near it. The shop look like an old English watch shop, vintage and elegant that you always see on movies, with old looking wooden door on the left and giant glass window on the right. I see through the window, there are many things displayed. She unlocks the door and pushes it forward, a tingling sound from a small bell on the door above as she waves me to walk in while still hold the door for me. Though it’s not necessary, but I appreciate it. I look around, realize that I never been to this shop before but here I am still able to go in. I turn around look at her:

 

            “Is this place use to be something else?”

            “It’s used to be a coffee shop”

 

            I remember it now. I’ve been here once when I was 15 with my parent. The coffee was horrible. I’m not surprised at all if that why the shop is closed.

 

            “All of this are antique?” I ask since some of the objects here are pretty new, probably a few months old. After looking around, eyeing every object, finally my eyes stop at a timber bookshelf, the third level, at a wooden owl, it’s look like it has been there for decades. My hand unconsciously reaches out and grab the owl.

 

            Suddenly the scenery changes, everything shifts, and I am now in a living room. Standing in front of a fire place that is still burning. There pictures above the fire place, the faces in the pictures are all unfamiliar. Nothing here that resemble the shop or even at the shop, I look to my right at the window, it’s snowing outside. I raise my eyes brow, Sydney doesn’t snow, even if the temperature reach below 10 degree Celsius, the city will still stubbornly refuse to ever let a single snowflake to land on the street or anything at all. Then where am I? Where is Raven?

 

 

            “Raven?”

 

            Silence answers me instead.

 

            “There you are, come here child”

 

            I jump back almost got a heart attack which probably won’t do anything to me anyway. I slowly turn to my left. On my left, on the sofa is an old lady. She’s about 80, short gray hair, green eyes. She’s wearing a light pink jumper, a checkered board wool blanket cover her lower down body. She’s smiling, but I can tell that smile is not for me.

 

            “Nanna”

 

            A figure runs through me, it’s a little girl. She’s about 12, her red hair is braided to her left, freckles along with beautiful green eyes like her grandmother I assume, since she calls the lady “Nanna”. The girl kneels down next to the old lady, smiling at her:

 

            “You were looking for me Nanna?”

            “Yes, because I have something for you”

 

I see the old lady reaches to her right pocket and she pulls out a wooden owl. My eyes widen and look down at the owl in my hand. It’s the same one, I turn it around and there are words carved on it:

 

            “Happy Birthday, Lily”

 

The owl in my hand and falls to the ground, but the moment the owl fall out of my hand the back ground shift again and I’m back at the shop with an angry looking Raven.

 

            “Be careful, you could have broken it”

            “What was that, I was in this place, there this old lady, a little girl, Lily and that owl” I point at the owl, which now in Raven’s hand. She carefully put it back to the shelf and turn around look at me.

            “What you just saw is a memory, a message, a reminder”

            “From who?”

            “From a grandma who loves her granddaughter so much” She smiles.

            “So you saying is, every object in this shop is the same as that owl?”

            “Pretty much” She nods and put the owl back to the shelf right where I pick it up.

 

I frowned slightly.

 

            “So you sell other people’s memories?”

            “It’s sound bad when you say it” She laughs.

 

I frowned again.

 

            “But the owners are dead, you can’t sell them”

 

She cringes her eyes in annoyance, I respond by looking straight into her eyes demanding for a respond. A few seconds pass and she turns around walk toward the door, turn the sign that said open backward so now the shop is open. She walks back to me, smirking as she walks to the counter:

 

            “Those people should be glad, instead of throwing them away like other might do I keep them here for people who meant to received and come and buy it back”

            “No one can see the memories?”

            “Unless it meant for you or you are dead already” She explains.

            “But you can see them” I argue.

            “That’s a story for a rainy day don’t you think?” She winks for some reason I take it as a signal for myself to shut up.

 

 I tilted my head, and turn my eyes and looking at everything in this shop. And think to myself, each and one of them belong to someone parents, children and friends and its all here in this shop.  I see Raven’s focusing on something under the glass cupboard, before I’m able to say anything, the door bell rings and walked in is a business woman or at least look like one. With white blouse, a black coat outside, long pant and she was carrying a brief case. She look like she’s in trance or something, because the next thing I know is she suddenly shakes and look around in confuse.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to walk in here. I don’t know why…”

“It’s alright. My name is Raven. Welcome to Nostalgia Shop. Do want to look around?”

“I…” She stops and stares at me intensely. More precisely at something behind me.

 

            I move to the left when she starts walking toward me. She stops at the bookshelf and it’s seemed that her eyes has glued itself to the little wooden owl. She looks familiar. It’s like I’ve seen her before. She takes the owls off the shelf, turn to Raven, her voice’s shaking so are her hands:

 

            “This…?”

            “What do you see” Raven smiles at the lady. Such gentle smile and with her soft voice, a tear start to fallen from the corner of the woman green eyes.

 

That when I realize, the woman standing in front of me is the little girl that I just saw, Lily. She holds on to the owl like it the most important thing in the world. She looks at Raven with pleading eyes asking her how she got this owl. Raven smiles and put her hand on top of Lily’s hand:

 

            “Have you been looking for it?”

            “For so long, now. Ever since I lost them because we move away, please tell me how are you able to find this?”

            “A very kind old lady has given it to so I could give it back to it’s rightful owner” Raven smiles again, but this time there is something in her eyes that make the smiles different from her previous smiles. Something calculative in those clear blue eyes.

            “Thank you so much for keeping it…

            “But…you see here, we also run a business here..” Raven cut the lady short, her sighed as she pretends to look troubles. I must say, she look really convincing. Lily " since the owl was her, so she must be Lily, realized that this is a business. She nodded right away.

“Yes of course, how much do I owe you?” says Lily with joy in voice almost as if she has become the little girl receiving the owls for the first time.

            “I’ll take 10 dollars for every year it has been in here, so it’s has been here for 5 years so it’s 50 dollars please” She smiles and this time her smiles is strictly mean business. 

 

I see, Lily agree and they walk to the counter. Where Raven wraps the wooden owl carefully with a brown paper. Lily hands her a 50 dollars bill and it’s just like the normal shop. Except people buy memories instead of goods. Raven still keep that business smile on her face until the woman leaves. She turn around and looks at me.

 

            “Spit it out”

            “What?” I spoke, I’m taken aback by the sudden change in her attitude.

            “You look like you got something to say”

            “Well…I was going to say that it’s wrong to exchange memories like goods like that” I shrug. I don’t really want to hurt her feeling. But she did ask me.

            “Dylan, Dylan, Dylan. A girl gotta eat. Besides, in this changing world even human life can be exchange as goods not just memories” Raven doesn’t look offended. Instead she look indifferent. Maybe this is another story for another rainy day.

            “So…do you know why in this city, there aren’t much ghosts around? I mean, the news, few people end up in accidents, they died. But no ghost”

 

I have asked her. The question that has always linger in my mind. I cross my finger hopping this blue hair girl in front of my will have an answer to all my miseries so far. Raven looks at me, analyzing my words, or maybe she thinks that I’m dumb for not knowing this.

           

            “Usually, from what I know. All those people disappears when they left behind a note for someone”

            “So, you mean I just need a message to anyone then I can leave this place for good?” I look at her, disbelieve written all over my face.

 

She nodded.

 

            “So, why can’t it appear now? I want to write a note to my mum”

            “Did I mention to you that it’s can be ‘hey mum, its me Dylan. I’m dead. Love you, I’m wring this note so that I can move on to what ever I need to’.”

 

She smirked at me, when she saw right through me, not literally, in which she already did, but metaphorically I was going to say something similar to that along that line.

           

“So what kind of note that I have to write? Or make? Or what ever hell this bloody take to work?”

 

She looks like she bit irritated with my attitude. I apologize to her. She nods as an acceptance.

 

            “It has to be about what you really want to say. Some thing, that make you want to say so badly that you wouldn’t leave this world till you do”

            “So…is that how everybody who are dead do?”

            “Pretty much. When they feel like that they need to say it, otherwise they wouldn’t leave, they come to me, accidently, unconsciously, which ever way works”

 

She picks up a cleaning cloths to wipe down the bits of dust on the glass surface. In that case, if someone looks in, it’s look like she’s cleaning the shop and might be singing while she doing it. Not mentally talking to a ghost figure that no one can see.

 

            “But I don’t have any message right now” I shook my head confusingly. I got nothing at the moment. Then why did I found her?

            “I don’t know. I’m not really an expert on how to deal with all kind of supernatural incident” She grins, and at that moment I swear if my heart is still beating, it will probably skip a beat. Okay, maybe a few beats. But, how exactly did I ‘accidently’ found her? Is it really an accident?

 

           

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problem.

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

Wow, this is a really cool concept. I like Dylan's attitude. His personality comes across very strongly. Raven is enigmatic and I am tending towards not liking her... capitalizing on the fond memories people have for the dead? I'm not so sure about that. You definitely have me hooked. I want to hear her rainy day story and see if she has redeeming qualities. I also want to see if Dylan will move on or something, stop being a ghost. I have lots of questions, which is a good way to leave a reader.

I know you said ignore the grammar, but I do hope you'll go back and clean up the subject/verb agreement. It's rather distracting in such a good story.

I look forward to the next chapter. :)