The nameless boy.

Short story describing the ghost of a little boy I used to see.

I don't know his name, he never told me. Actually, he never said anything. We were both shy, yet we enjoyed each other's company.

I saw him every other day, he was always trying to hide behind a wall. He was probably used to never being seen until one day I noticed him.

He wasn't scary, he was a beautiful shy boy, I think he was about 7, we looked around the same age. He had pale skin like the paper on a notebook; his hair looked wet all the time, like he had just gotten out of the shower or a pool, but his clothes were dry; he wore really old clothes and they had holes too, but he never changed them; blue jacket, what seemed to be a white shirt underneath that was now dirty and broken, jeans with mud in them and shoes that were covered in dirt.

Sometimes I'd walk down the hall and see him in the kitchen; I stopped, trying not to get too close so I dont scare him (funny, cause he was the one supposed to scare me).

"Hello?" I said with no response.

He immediately hid behind the walls. Then when I reached the place where he was, I couldn't see him anymore.
It's weird how I considered him my friend, even if he never talked or spent much time with me. But he was there, and that mattered.

The day arrived when me and my family moved. While we were leaving the house, he stood in the front door, watching us, not trying to hide for the very first time. I think he was sad that we were leaving, he'd just go back to never being seen again, and i think that's sad.

I had him in my mind during the whole car ride to our new home, I hoped to see him again, but I never did. I hope he made other friends, but I'll never know.

Now he's just the boy that lives in my memories.

Reviews

[Kate]

This is a really touching story and the ending sentence was really great. Good job! I look forward to reading more of your pieces.