The Island Ghost Girl

A Story by restcity

I’m alive…. But see through? Wait, something’s not right.

So that was it. I would never be seen again. Ever. I had just woken up from my slumber in a coffin, the one that stated HERE LIES AMATAGA 1931-1946. That’s when I remembered with a shock that I was dead. My island had been nuked by foreigners before I even had the chance to evacuate. All I remember is that one day I heard a screechy noise and a tiny black object falling from the sky. The noise got lower and lower in pitch and louder in volume as the object got closer to land. My heart went cold for a second when I realised it was the bomb and I turned and sprinted away.

BOOM! I heard the loudest sound I had ever heard. Pain struck through my ear tunnels before everything went silent, except for a faint ringing sound. My eardrums burst, and everything was suddenly covered in a yellow tint and getting blown away, houses dissolving into wooden planks, and trees bending so far down you’d think they were playing limbo.

I remember screaming, crying, and yelling “MAMA! MAMA!” I felt my throat vibrating, but I heard no noise come out of it. And then well, everything didn’t go black, but everything was gone. I had been smashed into from behind. By what, I would never know. I only knew that now I could only see what you see when your eyes are closed, not exactly black because black is a color and I saw no color.

Then I lost consciousness. I died. But now I am back awake. How? I am not sure. All I know is that I am back on Earth, and not where I was when I died. I had woken up in a coffin that was in the dirt behind a huge building that I know as a church, because the foreigners who came to my island talked about ‘churches’ and how they would build a grand one right in the new island they wanted to relocate all of us to.

But my island had no churches. Where was I?

My body was still intact, but faded. If I looked closely, I could see right through my brown skin into the sand on the ground. I was a ghost, wasn’t I?

I heard a beautiful melody coming from inside the huge white building. It was people, and they were singing all together, making a huge ocean tide of song, everyone’s voice following each other in harmony.

Maybe churches were as magical as foreigners described it to be! I decided I’d go into the church. I hated staying outside, looking at tombstones. I knew some of the names on those graves. Islanders, just like me, who had been blown up.

I tried to run though the back doors of the church, only to slam into the glass doors and leave a crack in the rainbow-colored glass.

The singing coming from inside stopped.

“Did you hear that?” one boy said.

My heart raced. They could hear me? They could see the crack I made? Did I now have a second life or something?

I heard a stampede of shoes shuffle over to the door, and a bunch of brown-colored faces with peered out at me.

“Ah!” I backed up in the grass from where I was sitting. “I didn’t mean it, I didn't mean it! I’m sorry!”

But they just kept staring. Then a women with a black and red wig traced her fingers along the crack I’d made. “Whad’ju think made this crack?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said one short boy.

“Someone was thrown’ rocks at the church! That’s what I think it was!” said a taller boy, anger wrinkling his forehead. “We’d better go out there and teach whoever did this a lesson!”

“Now, now” said the wig woman, but then she looked back at the crack. She then told the tall boy and a few others to investigate the scene around the church to see if there were kids or hostile people hanging around, and the boy nodded, his fist the palm of his other hand.

“Don’t get violent,” the women stressed. “That isn’t the way.”

“Alright,” the boy said quickly. He and some others then opened the back door and walked out of the church.

“AHHHH! Please! I’m sorry!” I yelled. Raising my hands over my face, but the lot just walked past me, looking straight ahead as if they didn’t even see me.

One even stepped on my foot.

It hurt as my skin stretched but the boy who had done it was even more spooked.

“Ah!” he yelled, his voice squeaking. I turned my head to see the tall boy was faceing him already. “what is it?”

“I stepped on something. Maybe it was a pebble,” he stared at the grass where my faded toes were. Couldn’t he see my foot?

“A pebble. That means those jokers must be close. Let’s get moving!” The tall boy yelled. And after a moment longer of staring at the grass, the boy who’d stepped on me walked off to follow the others.

All the other churchians had left the doorway and an organ was playing some music that raised my spirits and made me think of the color yellow for some reason.

I felt… happy, and curious. I must see an organ for myself.

I got up and walked over to the back door of the church, peering inside. There were rows of wooden benches on either side of the church, people in red shiny gowns beginning to stand up, while an old man at the front of the church played a huge brown wooden organ.

There it was! I ran down the aisle while everybody sang at my sides, beginning to clap at certain times, a beat, created with their hands.

There at the organ, an old man played white and black keys on what looked like a piano keyboard, except there were two rows, the man having one hand playing the top row and one hand playing the bottom. He barely seemed to be looking at the keys he was hitting, his eyes looked trained on nothing in particular, but focused on something, his head jutting slightly this way and that as he played.

Below the keyboards, there were thin wooden pedals at his feet. Above the keyboards, there were a bunch of white buttons in a line. I wondered what purpose they had. I wondered how you ever learned to play such an interesting instrument. I wondered why everyone was singing!

Whatever the reason, their singing was beautiful and left me wanting to dance, and so I did, right there next to the organ player. I began to bounce, then, when I realized bouncing had nothing to do with the rhythm of the song, I began to sway and clap with everyone else.

I smiled. I loved this place! I ran down the aisle again, making sure to run through rainbow rays the stained glass let through from outside. Then I ran back up the aisle, my arms raised in happiness.

I stared and smiled at everyone, happy to see everyone smiling and happy as well.

I walked right up to the wig woman. She was singing, her voice vibrating as she closed her eyes and held her hands up at both sides of her in sync with her swaying body.

I smiled at her. She had good energy. I wanted some of her good energy, and for that reason, I touched her shoulder.

She gasped and her eyes widened. I quickly backed up, my heart pounding.

The woman next to her turned. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I think I felt the hands of… of…”

“Of god?” the woman asked, her head tilting at the wig woman.

“No! Another type of being, but a holy being nonetheless.”

The two stared at each other.

I didn’t consider myself a holy being, but it was a nice compliment.

***

My name is Shila Williams, and I’ve had a passion for writing and drawing ever since I could spell. I grew up in North Carolina, as well as lived and traveled abroad. I write to inspire kids' minds to imagine and take them on a fun and adventurous journey.

Imagination by Shila Williams on Amazon!