Ghosts do not Haunt with any Face

Years of torment piled together, and that was just my life. A dull a dreary life, that i would never go back to if I had the choice, but we take what we get out of it, and we put in our lives. Our price for living is finding what it has to offer. Too bad it never offers much. But being a ghost is worse. Ghosts won't talk to each other, so we are stuck in limbo. Silent. I see you humans toil around aimlessly, waiting for death to overtake you. Thinking that memories are sustaining enough to get you through life. But memories are not lasting.

I could say I remember what life was like, smells, tastes, sounds, however those are things that are part of life, but not what it is. The essence of the memories are gone. Emotion. All that we ghosts have is bitterness and regret, a terrible sadness. The regret is the worst. Not everyone is a ghost. You have to choose to be one. What else can you be after death? Do you really want me to tell you. Heaven, Hell, Reincarnation, or Nothing? Why should I say? The living are never meant to know. Though people claim they know. I won't ever say what the other afterlife is. Mostly because as a ghost I don't even know for sure, I just saw the beginning, and then I turned away. Waking into this world, my world, is like falling asleep. At first its like a horrible nightmare, then the agony begins as you realise you are dead.

You may never know what it feels like, but I will tell you how I felt. Looking at my body, covered with a blanket shielding me from the stares of those who onlook. A single bullet hole weeps blood through making a telling red circle above my chest. A girl started crying looking at a body beside me. A young man, he also is a ghost, screaming. His regret was stronger, and the girl, she couldn't hear. Thats when I realised my fault. I should have gone on, to the other place. What had I stayed for? I don't even remember. The people who crowded around, surely I rememered one of them, who I was with! No. Not a face, or a voice held any memory. I wanted to cry, but someone I knew I couldn't, I wouldn't, tears would be pointless, I choose this.

I walked with my body to the morgue, saw who must have been my parents once. My mother sobbing, and my father with a brave face, not allowing himself to cry while arranging my furneral. I saw that too. The dumping of my body into a coffin then covered with dirt. The people who came, who I don't know now, but did then. How I hated them. As they dropped yellow roses on top of my lifeless shell. I was bored. What was I to do now? I went with those people who were my parents and stayed in their home, feeling no comfort in the warmth of their cheery home. Gazing into pictures of my life that hung on the wall. I became malicious.

I wanted to hurt them. For living, and thinking life was worth it. I started to haunt them. Crying out for help into their ears while they were sleeping. Watching the panic in their eyes as they woke up screaming. But I got no pleasure out of it. Espically with the mother. She began to talk to me. She knew I was mad. She tried to soothe me. Saying that I should move on. That I should leave whatever realm I was in and stop tormenting her and the father. I wanted to leave, but I didn't, I don't know how. So I stayed and began to find ways to disrupt their lives. Breaking mirrors, and vases. Then it happened. She saw me.

I had just picked up a shoe and was about to throw it in the oven with the food, the woman was preparing. She turned around and looked right at me. She spoke so softly and lovingly. I almost felt love again, but that was fleeting, and then guilt took over. She asked me to leave, she said that she couldn't live knowing how miserable I was as a ghost, she asked me to leave, to walk the undead road that led away from her. She came right up to me, and started to cry, and she said it. She said, it broke her heart to see my brown eyes, my pert nose, my scattering of freckles had vanished into a faceless form. I raised my hand to my face and felt around, nothing, a gaping void. I drew my hand away and look at the mother, then I left her home, and walked along the roads of the city, watching other ghosts silently trodding their own paths. Their faces like mine. I'm hating everything. Even the fact that when I became a ghost, I didn't notice that guys face.

So I stay here hating, not knowing what is to come, maybe this is what could be called Hell. I don't know or feel anything else but this and the encompassing despair I've left myself.

I have been having one new feeling lately though, faint hope. A glimmer, nothing more, but I know now there must be a way out. I will search the barren ghost realm until I find a path out, or untill I can find someone new to torment.