Here I Am, Turn Around

I walk further down the road, feeling something is different. I look around and nothing looks wrong. I walk and walk and saw a man trying to sell something. His eyes just go past me as he greets the woman behind me. I recognized the man, he was a friend from fourth grade. He hadn't changed much since then. As I walk further, a see my best friend from high school. I try to talk to him, but he doesn't seem to notice me. The further I walk, the more people I recognize. Most of them seem to be going the same direction, so I follow them. They're going to a cemetery. People are gathered around one tombstone, and I could hear my heart beat. Or so I thought.

My heart wasn't beating at all. I was dead.

This is just some crazy dream, I try to tell myself, Or some mixup. There must have been a mixup.

Then, This must be another person's grave or something.

But then, how come all the people here are people I know?

I wanted to make sure it was mine, but I didn't want to do it by trying to push someone aside and find out that my hand would just go though their body. So I try to find another way. I see an opening in the crowd and try to see it through that opening. I go and written in the tombstone is:

R.I.P.

Robert Devinn

Lost but never forgotten.

1973-2005

That was me. I turn around and see my mom facing opposite from me, crying.

I'm right here, I think

"Here I am," I say, "turn around." But nobody hears me.

Author's Note: Yes, I know this story isn't very original, but I just wanted to get started with a simple short story.