The Unknown

"I don't have a name or a personality. My life is gone. I drift in a world that's completely invisible to the living. Do I have a purpose? That's what I want to know."

As I sit watching the frozen river, with all its patrons who braved walking, jogging, cycling, running the length of it, I couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like to be alive and have so much energy. Well, tried to think of it anyway. It seemed so long ago that I knew what everything felt like, what colour the sky and earth was, what my life had been like before all of this. But it had barely just passed a year. All the days blur together and it’s hard to separate them. I don’t even think I could tell you the exact day, except that winter’s coming so it’s probably in mid-October, beginning of November. I just go on, aimlessly, everything dulled and distorted and grey. I can’t even tell you what my favourite colour or song was anymore. It’s like being stuck in purgatory or something with no way out, and all you can do is sit there with no memories or emotions. You just are.

I’ve always wondered what being dead " more like a ghost " really was like. Do I actually go to this place called Heaven and never have a care in the world? Or do I go to Hell and be tortured or burn in a fiery pit or something? Or, do I just cease to exist altogether? What happens when one dies is really a question of the ages; it’s right up there with, “what purpose do we have on this Earth,” and “what is the meaning of life?” Well, let me tell you, you don’t go to any of those places. You just get to sit on Earth as a ghost, invisible and an empty shell. Fun stuff….

None of that really matters to me though. Not a whole lot does actually. Nothing fazes me, triggers any emotions or feelings. All I feel is…well nothing. No memories, no really distinguishable personality (though I have been told I’m rather snarky and sarcastic). A dull emptiness sits in me and in a nutshell that’s what it feels like to be dead. Yeah can’t really help you out more than that, but I can kind of divulge on the world of the dead.

There is one thing that ghosts do remember, and that’s how they died. That memory is surprisingly very vivid all things considered. Funny how that works hey? " you lose everything after life except how it ended. Kind of annoying really. I’d much rather remember what my parents’ names were or where I went to school even, instead of how my life ended. But who wants to sit all day moping? Oh yeah, ghosts. Pretty much every other ghost I’ve stumbled across has the same blank stare, same grey and pasty complexion, and they all shuffle around stupidly. Okay, granted I’m fairly certain I do the same and probably look exactly like them, but at least my mind is active. I actually do think of the living world and try to force some of my memories out even though it hasn’t happened thus far. But there are a few ghosts that don’t just meander about like zombies. Those ones are the scary and dangerous ones. At least I’m harmless.

You’d think it’d be easy for someone…something?...like me to go all poltergeist but it’s not. Seriously, all I can do is some little parlour tricks like create a chill in the room, or knock a glass off the table or something. But nothing that would be considered an actual haunting. I look like Casper the Friendly Freaking Ghost compared to the real poltergeists. Oh and believe me, they are there and they are always pissed off. ALWAYS. And it’s not like they can avoid or “turn off” their anger when they mingle with the rest of us ghosts. We all kind of act like a bunch of zombies who really don’t interact with each other. Occasionally I have stumbled across a fellow ghost who has a chatty or “sociable” disposition, like me. But the 'scaries' " that's what I call them " well they're just mean. I don't know the real reason, but I think the scaries have been ghosts for so long that this dull grey world of ours became so frustrating and boring, and they kind of went crazy. If the dead can go crazy anyway.

They may be scary, and I have dealt with one or two of them before, but man can they do some crazy ghost crap. Like I learned that I can jump from one place to the next by just thinking about it. But the scaries can do it too, but they can let people (those alive) see it happen. It's really lame if I have this wicked power and no one can witness it. Plus, they can throw objects around like it's nobody's business and make all kinds of screams and sounds and give people a real haunting. Not that I've been much interested in ghost stories or movies.

I suppose, though, eventually all us spirits will end up like that. I don't even know what happens to us after we go ghost. One of my curious fellow dead told me that one day we just disappear. Usually it happens after we go poltergeist. So, the upside to going all scary is that I get away from all this dullness.

Not saying I want to become a scary. I assume it takes a long time to manifest, so I should still have some time, but who truly wants to be so angry and frustrated that they want to scare and possibly hurt, or kill, someone? Nah, I'm good. As much as it sucks that no one can witness what I can do, I'd rather be invisible....

Well, so as you can tell, not a whole lot consumes my mind these days. Avoid the scaries, wonder what happens after I disappear, wander around listlessly. There are days where my mind seems a little clearer and I do think about other things. Sometimes I'll try to remember what the sky looked like (instead of this sickly grey), or how it smelled after it rained. Mainly I try to remember things like colours or how things felt. My sight and hearing work just fine, but for some reason my sense of smell's slightly off. Everything has a faint dusty, metallic scent to it. Not overpowering mind you, but it's there every time I take a breath. In some ways you can say I live in an entirely other world from the living but it coexists invisibly. Or something like that anyway....

Funny thing, and yeah I'm jumping around, I tend to just go with the next thought that comes to mind, I do know where I lived. My house is where I woke up, though my besides seeing some pictures of me and my family, my memory is kind of blank. From the pictures I've learned that I had a mother and father, and two little siblings that looked identical to each other. Seeing those pictures " and then the actual people " did trigger something deep inside me. Some strange emotion that I can't quite grasp. It's almost like a longing. I just wandered about the place, willing myself to recognize everything and the faces of my family. Nothing. All I could feel was that longing buried so deeply that I could almost trick myself into thinking it wasn't real, except that it wanted to break out.

Since the day I first woke up as a ghost I've only been inside the house a handful of times. Seeing my parents stirred that longing up again, though there was no familiarity in seeing their sorrowful faces. It was the same with my siblings.

For the first little while everyone seemed to be in mourning. My mother couldn't even look at the pictures without bursting into sobs; it got to the point that the next time I drifted in the photos of me had been removed. The weird thing was, that whenever I stood in the same room as her, my mother would go all stiff, and look about the room as if she could tell I was there. Once she grew hysterical, bawling about how her baby girl was still there with her and she wanted to communicate. Honestly I don't know where she got that idea from. I mean, if I could have talked to her I would have, but I felt more like an observer and not supposed to tamper with anything. I was more concerned with trying to recognize her then instigate any communication. The ghost in me shut down all emotional responses so it wasn't like I was upset or anything. Just...bothered by her reaction. I didn't want to see her like that again. So I started avoiding going inside the house. I ended up watching the family from a safe distance, and eventually time carried on.

Ghosts shouldn't have to feel this way when they die; all empty and void of emotions. They should be allowed to remember who they were, their family, even their own name. I am one of the lucky ones, I learned my name when my mother cried it out. A lot of ghosts I've met either don't get the chance to learn their name, or they've heard it so long ago that they can't remember it anymore. Knowing that one day I could forget my name makes me desperate to remember, so I mutter it to myself daily as reassurance. If I'm forced to forget everything from when I was alive, then the name is the most precious thing to me. It's the last thing that's holding me to the land of the living.

I've heard someone say once that the name is the identity of a person. You could lose everything but as long as you still had your name you existed and mattered. Without a name you would cease to exist. I guess maybe that's why ghosts don't know their names; they're not supposed to exist. So, yay, all this is what you get to look forward to in times to come!...

Anyway, I wandered down the street observing absently that there were a lot of homeless and fellow ghosts around. You'd be surprised at how many ghosts fill that space you think is empty. I notice this one ghost staring down at a body, dumbstruck. That body most likely is that ghost, and he seriously had no clue what to make of it. Sighing, I saunter over to him and put a smile on my face. It feels weird, and I'm sure I look just as strange, so I wipe it off my face just as he looks up at me.

“Pretty tough, seeing yourself lying there hey?” I say casually. My voice sounds tired and quiet, like a whisper. Just like every other ghost out there. We don't really have a reason to talk to each other so it's like we lose our voice. As with everything else.

He nods his head, still too numb to find any words. Judging by his clothing he looks homeless; he probably froze to death. There wasn't any snow yet but at nights it dropped below freezing. Snow was approaching real fast or there was going to be a dry winter. It's even cold enough for me to sort of feel and I'm dead.

Glancing about I see that some people have already noticed the stiff and are coming over to investigate. I turn back to the homeless man as he starts waving his hand yelling at them to help. Obviously they ignore him, and rolling my eyes I grab his arm and force it down.

“That's not going to work ya know. You're dead, which means they can't see you. All you're going to attract is a bunch of scaries and let me tell you, you don't want that.”

The homeless man finally turns to me with a look mixed with defeat, confusion and anger. I forgot how intense emotions ran in that first bit after waking up a ghost. For the first hour or so emotions, memories, and personality are intensified before being snuffed out completely. It literally is just blinking and poof it's all gone. Since this guy just died I feel like I'm about to have a puppy trailing along behind me before he integrates into his new life. Pun intended.

“Who are you anyway? My grim reaper? Eh?”

Laughing's tough (didn't even think I could still do it) but I shake my head, and force my rough laughter to disappear. “Me? Grim reaper? Yeah I'm about as far away from that as you are buddy. I don't think they even exist; at least I haven't seen one. Besides, I doubt they dress in pink pyjamas to pick you up. I'm a ghost just the same as you. Welcome to the world of the dead, where all things are gray, dull and boring.” Talking surprisingly feels...good. Other ghosts are hardly conversationalists and I haven't met someone who just died so it's a nice change. I absolutely love the fact that I am still sarcastic (if I was when I was alive anyway) and full of dry humour. Kind of makes up for the rest of this crap.

The hobo looks at me with disbelief. By now a small group of people had formed a circle and someone was dialling for help. The man approaches the nearest person and tries to get her attention. Shockingly, her eyes remain glued to the body, shaking her head slightly in pity or sorrow. I let him go from one person to the next, begging and pleading for someone to help or look at him while I lean against a wall, arms crossed, watching.

It takes him forever to calm down " me hoping that he finally lost all his emotions and stuff " and he looks defeated. Like he accepts his fate. Or, well, not really fate, more like...his death I guess. Whatever. He moves to where I stand, his eyes round with sadness as he watches the paramedics wheel his body off. I shove off from the wall and pat him on the shoulder. It should have been a sympathetic pat if it isn't for the fact that I really don't feel anything about this whole incident.

“Hey, don't be upset. Pretty soon you'll be numb to everything, including your death. Give it an hour or so and you won't remember a thing.” The one thing that has remained vivid in my mind has always been my death, but I figure I would keep that tidbit of information to myself. No point in scaring him anymore than he already is.

The look he shoots at me says he still doesn't really trust me, but his body language says it all. I still don't feel any pity or sympathy for him and I actually prefer it that way. I'm really not all that eager to carry around all the emotional baggage. I'd like to feel sure, but when it comes to something like this poor man, well, I like the emptiness I feel inside.

I don't know why but I force another smile on my face and stuff my hands in my pockets. “I know it's tough but you'll get over it and then you'll become a mindless, wandering zombie like the rest of us.” Clearly, that's the wrong thing to say, because his brow wrinkles in shock, turns hastily away, and rushes off in the opposite direction. I shrug my shoulders and leave the scene. People disperse now and I drift in between them, avoiding making contact with them.
By now night is falling and I feel the need to get indoors. I didn't get any of the answers I'm looking for but that doesn't stop me. I'll keep looking until I turn into a scary and then disappear if I have to. But I don't want to disappear not knowing what I'm getting myself into. I'm also kind of hoping that I don't turn into a scary altogether. That would be so much nicer than being angry all the time.

I find myself approaching a mall. It's still open, but judging by the sparse crowd it's probably closing soon. I like malls and they are typically the hangout for many local ghosts. Yeah we totally go shopping. I guess though, it's because the space and emptiness is rather attractive. It's almost like being in our own little world, that we don't have to share with the living. Minus the occasional guard that patrols through the building. But being around the living is, for lack of a better word, a painful reminder that we're dead. If we could care that is. Standing in a closed mall, however, it's as if every ghost relaxes. Other popular hangouts are abandoned buildings, offices that are closed, and yes graveyards. Even though most of us were probably buried in a graveyard it still beats being around the living.

The stores all start closing down at once, as if commanded by some unheard voice. I can't hear anything but it's like they're all on some sort of timer. The last stragglers head out the doors and then the halls are empty. I wander about, checking out the stores as I go by, uninterested. There's a fountain ahead, one that I usually sit in front of just for something to do. I sit at the bench, lean forward, and peer into the water. To me, the water has a greyish-tinge to it, but it still looks blue and actually kind of has a shine to it. Maybe that's why I like water so much; it's not completely dulled by this limbo world I live in. I notice little fish swimming around in the fountain, a new addition since the last time I was here. They too are dull and grey, but the way they swam and floated so gracefully, it's so different from everything else. I've never noticed before but I guess that some things do sort of break the barrier between the living world the dead.

I realize that if I lean in closer the fish all swim away quickly as if they know I'm watching them. Over the past year I've learned that dogs, cats and even babies know when I'm around. Dogs tend to bark like crazy " all I can really hear is a muffled bark, thankfully. Cats get all spooked and take off in another direction, while babies seem to be the most curious of all. Whenever I pass by a baby they stare at me with those big eyes, and their lips start moving like they're trying to talk to me. Of course, the parents are oblivious and probably end up thinking their little one's talking to them. Which would be perfectly acceptable, if it wasn't for the fact that sometimes some of the older babies will point fingers in my direction. It's kind of creepy when you think about it. Who wants their child to see a dead person? But I never figured fish would be just as keen as other animals. And yet, every time I try to get close to them they swim away.

Before long it becomes a game of trying to get as close to the fish as possible without scaring them off. The game distracts me long enough to forget about whatever it was I was trying to think about earlier, and soon I'm sitting on the bench once more, allowing the fish to swim freely. The mall is dark, making my world darker as well. No one was about, living nor ghost. Strange, this place should be packed by now. Shelter from the cold and snow, well what we can feel of it anyway, and from the people that still lurked about outside. I stand and look about, feeling a little uneasy. Usually if it's this deserted something's wrong. The little hairs on my arms and neck stand on end and I decide it's time to vacate the mall before I run into trouble. Scaries, like normal ghosts, can go anywhere, though they usually pick one house to torment at a time. As I'm leaving the fountain I notice the fish are all huddled close together in the middle of the fountain. Yup, definitely time to book it.

I hurry for the door just as I hear a screech echo throughout the mall, and I shrink covering my ears. Crap, I knew it. I pick up the pace, cursing whoever/whatever it was that decided "hey I think it's a good idea to make ghosts completely useless." I could jump, duh, how could I have forgotten that? Hastily I glance about the mall as another screech fills the air, this time much closer, but I don't see anything. Nervously I close my eyes and think of where I want to go. But my mind's drawing up a blank. All I can think about is the looming danger. I turn and run for the door. It's locked but that doesn't stop any of us. Out of the corner of my eye I see a ghostly blur whiz by and I jump, picking up the pace. What a way to end a day. I leap through the wall and tumble outside, feeling the snow drift through me as I run. It's a distant cold that I ignore as I run in a random direction, hoping to get away. I hear another screech and grind my teeth. Yeah, I know you're following me you don't have to break my eardrums along the way. As I round the corner I spy some other ghosts huddled against the wall. So they must have heard the scary too. I long to go over there for help but no one would; we all have to fend for ourselves when it comes to facing off against a scary. If anything they'd get all mob-like and push me away.

Pressing on I scan the area for somewhere that would be safe enough to hide from the scary. I hear it behind me, making all those noises like scraping fingers against the wall, growling, hissing, and so on. It doesn't matter if it attacks the dead or living, its tactics are always the same. Hey, if something works stick to it.

All the while I keep trying to clear my mind of fear of pursuit to get me out of there. The scary can't follow me if I jump. I'm passing an apartment building when all of a sudden the door opens, and a head pokes out. He's staring right at me and the sudden movement catches me by surprise. I skid to a halt before barreling into him. His eyes stare right through me and I feel, for a moment he can actually see me. I stare back, unsure what to make of him, when it all just clicks into place. He's not staring through me, he's staring at me. My breath catches in my throat and all the fear vanishes and is replaced by curiosity. He can see me. Me, the invisible girl. I glance over my shoulder in case there was someone standing behind me but there's no one. But that's when I finally get a good look at my assailant. It's hooded by a long black hoodie that reaches its knees. I can see only the mouth, a twisted ugly mess of decayed teeth and cracked lips. Its hands look like bones, white with yellow stains. It's smaller than I expected, smaller than even me. Almost like it was a child.... It had stopped a good distance away as if it was waiting for something. Or couldn't go any further.

“Follow me,” I hear someone say.

I whirl around and my mouth drops when I find that it was the young man who had been staring at me. I wrinkle my brows and stare doubtfully at him. He's definitely living " his eyes are full of life and his face is void of that blank stare all ghosts have. But he can see me. How's that possible?

The only way to escape the scary for good would be just to jump out of there but for some reason I'm compelled by this boy, and step into the threshold of the apartment. I have to know why he can see me when no one else can. He quickly shuts the door behind me, hurries up the stairs, gesturing that I follow. I glance back at the door, expecting the scary to come bursting in at any second but nothing happens. So I turn and climb the stairs behind him, drawn on by curiosity.

We climb three sets of stairs before we stop and move down the hall. I watch the back of his head, fearing that if I blink he'll disappear and I'll never get the answers I want. He leads me to the last door on the floor that stands by a window, and unlocks the door. We step inside and he hastily locks the door and mutters something I can't quite make out. Then he turns to me and smiles reassuringly before moving off into another room. Slowly I follow, biting my lip. Is it even possible to someone from the living world to see me? Why is he helping me? If he sees me he more than likely could see the scary that was chasing me, so why didn't he just leave me to deal with it like the other ghosts? Does he not understand how dangerous a scary could be?

The room is very stiff looking, with old-fashioned draperies, carpet and furniture. I glance around the place, when my eyes settle on an old woman who's sitting in the armchair, knitting. She looks up when we come in to the room, and the smile she gives the young man is warm and welcoming. Then her warm gaze shifts to where I stand and I'm frozen in place. 

“Oh hello dear. Looks like you've brought in another stray, hey Graham?” She said, lightly. Her voice is just as warm as her smile, but withering a bit from age. I can hear her too? And she can see me? What is going on here? I glance at the boy " Graham " and find he's staring back at me. 

“I couldn't just leave her out there Grams. One of those poltergeist's was chasing her. I cast a small enchantment to keep that thing away until we got safely inside. It probably forgot all about her by now. Plus this one seems...different.”

All I can do is stand, rooted to the spot. The way they talk about this whole incident, it's as if they were discussing the weather. They hardly seem phased by the idea of the scary outside or the fact that Graham brought a ghost into their home.

“I think this one deserves an explanation as to what's going on,” Grams said, chuckling. “She looks stunned.”

Graham nods and gestures that I take a seat on the couch. He sits across in the other armchair while Grams continues her knitting. I take the seat gingerly, my body screaming at me to get out of there and forget all about it, but I just can't bring myself to move. We sit there for a long moment, not saying a word, before Grams finally sets her knitting on the end table and looks at me.

“You're probably wondering why we can see you and how you can hear us correct?” I nod, and she continues. “Well, there are some people in this world that have a very special gift. Not everyone can do it as you've seen, and there are some shams, but those that have the real gift can truly see the world beyond the veil.

“For many generations my family has been given this gift, and we've started to use it as a way to help those that are trapped in limbo to move on. But ghosts can be...quite unhelpful.”

My eyes widen in faint surprise. We can move on? There was something after all this dull grey world? The thought actually makes me so relieved and excited. I'm right. This whole time I knew there was more to death than eternal greyness. 

“You probably don't know much about why you're stuck in limbo or even if there's some way to get out of it, but you don't have to stay there. If you do, you eventually turn into one of those poltergeists and then just vanish from existence altogether. We help ghosts realize this. It's not a fate that anyone wants.”

I can actually feel excitement bubbling through me, and I clap my hands in front of me and stare down at them. What she's saying, I can't believe it. The fate I've always believed in is that I'd eventually become a scary and then after that I'd move on to the next step. But if I can bypass that altogether.... I glance up between Graham and Grams and force myself to speak. Compared to their rich voices, and soothing tones my voice is rough and quiet. I hate it, but I still force the words out.

“How do I do that?”

It's Graham's turn to speak and he leans forward, evidently just as excited as I felt. “We really just want some information to start off.... To help figure out how to get you to move on.” He glances over at Grams. “She seems much more cooperative than the others we've dealt with in the past. Maybe she can help us figure it out.”

Grams nods and her twinkling eyes show so much more wisdom and knowledge. “We can help you, girl. But, we do know the first step is that we help you remember something very important you've lost. You're name.”

I straighten and let a little gasp escape. My name, that last little reminder I held dear to me. The one last thing I've got from my time with the living. The reaction shocks the two and they exchange a weird glance before I explain.

“I already know my name....”

Again they exchange a curious look, and then Grams gently nudges me to say it. I take a deep breath. I've muttered my name every day since I've died, but never to anyone. It feels like a confession, and surprisingly makes me really nervous. I bite my lip again, fold my fingers in my lap, and try to work up the courage to say it. Thankfully they don't push me, just sit in thoughtful silence.

Finally I exhale and look up and whisper my name.