Ghostly (Part 1)A Story by York CallowAs I stood, I gazed at the vast and empty city around me. It was not vacant of buildings, billboards, cars, etc… But, people. There was not a soul to be seen, and I wondered where, in all of God’s green earth, I was! How did I get here? From where did I arrive? The answer was not clear. There in the center of all the strange buildings, stood a large clock, that would soon strike 12 midnight. Something about this place was different from any other, it felt ghostly. Strangely, though this place appeared desolate, I knew in the deep recesses of my mind that someone was present -- watching me. “Hello!!” I began to call out. “I know you’re there… You can show your face. I’m not afraid.” But no answer was given. I attempted once more. “I feel you. Even if you don’t talk back to me I know you’re there!” Suddenly, I heard a soft, smooth whisper; that, sounded as if to say: “I’ve got a gift for you, please accept it this time…” I became paralyzed with fear at the sound of the voice. So afraid, in fact, that I felt as if I couldn’t move. “Don’t be afraid,” the voice whispered. “I am here for your good and not bad " I have missed you.” “Who are you?” I asked, in fear. “You’ll find out soon enough -- but first, there’s something I need you to do for me.” I became less tense as I heard the voice more and more. After a while of hearing it, in fact, it almost sounded soothing to the ears -- like a comfort that I’d missed. “What is it that you need me to do?” I asked the voice. “Do you see that large clock, in the center of those buildings?” “Yes, I do. What about it?” “Walk over to it, and once you’re there, I need you to wait.” “Wait a minute now.” I began my retortion. “What exactly is this gift? And, why am I waiting on it?” “Just do it, please.” It replied, almost in a sad tone. After hearing it reply in that way, I felt a guilt for questioning it. “Okay.” I said. “I’ll do it.” I then began my walk to the clock, which took much longer than I anticipated. As I made each step closer and closer, it seemed as if the clock became further and further away -- like an illusion. © 2015 York CallowAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
303 Views
3 Reviews Added on January 5, 2015 Last Updated on January 5, 2015 AuthorYork CallowMobile, ALAboutGrowing up in Bessemer, Alabama, I developed a taste for writing at the age of thirteen. In the seventh grade I joined a creative writing class, and did exceptionally well. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|