When you realize that you are dead, you don't make the connection of your life that was living. Well, you do, but it seems like a past time that was all but a dream. For instance, have you ever dreamt of a time you spent with someone, and when you wake up, it feels like it really happened as if it was a memory? That's how it feels when you are dead, especially as alone as me. It's hard to understand the concept that you are trapped between heaven and human times. I never came to terms with the church Mother forced us to go to, so I didn't really know where I was on this Earth now. I sat around our old manor every day, all day, and thought of things to do. I could walk about and do the normal things that I did in the living, but it was never the same. You can't eat, sleep, drink, or even talk. Only to yourself.

Soon enough, a little memorial was strung up in the backyard of the manor, burying their bodies and making fence-like tombstones. Sully was there, dressed in full black, age wearing onto him. I rested my elbows upon the railing around the second story of the house, watching after the scene. Many people that I recognized were there, old friends and distant family that I rarely saw. A childhood friend of Molly's stood a ways off, her thin blonde hair messily pinned to her head and her fingers twitching. I remembered her, though her name failed me. I could see the pain inside of her, so I decided to make a move. I climbed down the stairs that led to the backyard, gliding over the wet grass in her direction. I couldn't feel the grass whatsoever, it was as if I gradually floated over it, but I could tell it was wet by the large water drops hanging on the little strands.

It was sickening to see this young woman so distraught, but I had to understand that it could happen, and it certainly did. Her brown eyes were unsteady, silently searching around the whole yard. Maybe she felt my presence around her, since I could see the small light hairs on her arms straighten. Was that a normal ghost attribute?

I walked up next to her, sliding my hand along her cheek and flipping some parts of her hair away from her face. Her body tensed at my touch; that's when I knew she could tell that I was there. Thrilled that I was being noticed after so long, I gave her shoulder a little push to have her turn around. She did, very slowly, eyes wide. Lately, I found people staring past me, looking for something that they couldn't see. But, with her, it was quite different. Her eyes were locked onto mine, surely. It wasn't a hazy gaze, it was real. She saw me. I pulled my lips into a smile and gave a small wave. Her mouth fell open as her eyes grew wide. I thought she was going to speak to me by the way she heaved her chest for breath, so I waited. Except, I shouldn't have been so sure.

She let out a blood-curdling scream instead.

Sully was the first one to run to her aid. She was panting, falling against his shoulder, murmuring about seeing a ghost of Cecilia. My face fell, knowing that I was officially some horror thing that people were afraid of. I spun around and headed back up the stairs. I didn't take another glance back at the disruption of the memorial, or even to see if the girl was all right.

All I knew was that she went into an insane asylum a week after that. Poor thing.

Sully married though, which I didn't blame him for. We were living in a time where you should be marrying and having children, or else you were considered an outsider almost. It was a strict way of society, I knew that. But we grew up with that. What else were we supposed to think?

The girl was a pretty young thing, but the opposite of Molly. Light hair and pale skin, her lips were thin and week, as was her fragile body. I watched Sully live with her for years from my porch. People were cutting down trees so much that I could easily see his house from mine. Even though he put a smile on his face, he resembled a complete different person from before. His eyes became darker, with no hint of happiness in them.

He had a baby girl with the woman, on the other hand. He convinced her to name their daughter, Molly. Molly Sullivan. I smiled when I heard him say her name for the first time, and looked up at the sky.

"Your name is placed where it should be, Molly," I whispered to the clear blue sky above me. I didn't know if Molly could even hear me, but I was sure happy that Sully helped her live on. Maybe she was smiling from above too.

I took after them, gazing at their life and wishing for the best. Little Molly grew into a beautiful girl with dark brown hair and pale gray eyes lit her father. She had a thick head of stubbornness and a lively personality. By the time she was fourteen, I couldn't contain my laughter as young men around her age would crash into trees while staring at her as they walk by. She wasn't the spit image of my sister physically, but by the attention, yes. Pretty and graceful was the biggest traits that my sister received in life, as did this little Molly. She was married off when she was sixteen to a young Scottish man that moved to Georgia with his parents. It was heartbreaking to see the severe pain in Sully's face when she left with her husband. I cried as well. He lost both of his Molly's. Around the same age for that matter.

It must have crushed him greatly, because he died a few months after his daughter left. Thirty-six years old was even too young for him, and it left his family devastated. That wife of his went back to her old home and little Molly moved into Sully's old estate. That made me feel better at least.

Everyone died over time. I looked after all of these families that I knew, and the ones that descended down from Sully, but they all came and went so quickly that it was hard to know that it was all over a long period of time. I never aged, nothing ever changed about me. What upset me the most was the fact that everyone that died; none of their ghosts seemed to linger like mine. It was terrible to know that I was horribly alone.

It wasn't until 1910 when things started to go awry. I was resting in my room, holding an old book that I owned and read probably around forty times. I swore that I heard a noise, but when it didn't reoccur, I went back to my book. Then, the pounding became louder. Bang, bang, bang! It sounded like someone was knocking very strongly, hoping to break down the door. And luckily, it did.

Hearing the fall of my front door crash to the floor was what forced me to jump to my feet and tear down the main staircase. There in the doorway was a young man, around the age that Sully was when I died, with nice black slacks, a white dress shirt with suspenders over his shirt, black shiny shoes, and his dark blonde hair slicked back. He resembled a young rich man that just came from one of those rich parties. Little did I know, that was the exact case.

"C'mon boys, let's get to searching!" The young man said as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. He was a Yankee too, I could tell.

I pressed myself against the wall, fear running through my entire body. I couldn't make my mind get it though. I shouldn't be afraid, I was dead. But, it was my human traits that still ran in myself.

Men poured around the main young man that captivated me with his handsome looks and pretty blue eyes. He gazed in my direction, but didn't lock attention with me. So, I knew he didn't see me. Something inside of me pushed forward to have him notice me. He waltzed past my spot and headed toward the back, the kitchen. I followed him, my eyes trailing along after other men that begun to ransack my home. I didn't hold a grudge. It all died with me a long time ago.

He stopped and leaned against the stove, a large smile spread across his face, his eyes enticing. He must have been excited by the way his muscles were shaking in his arms. I couldn't help but watch, entranced.

"We've hit a jackpot boys!" He yelled up the stairs, never once moving from his spot.

I spotted another man coming in, his face tightened into an angry expression, and a shiny object hidden behind his back. From the way he moved quietly behind the blue eyed guy's back, I knew he was trouble. I was murdered from behind, remember?

I picked up some random rock that somehow got into the kitchen from outside. I didn't bother to figure out why. I just chucked it across the room as hard as I could, making it crash against the wall behind the murderer. The blue eyed one spun around, his face showing terror for only a moment. It flashed back to its normal self, happy and calm.

"Why, isn't it good ole Wally?" His blue eyes told me everything. They didn't get along, and he knew he was done for.

"Turn around, Josiah, now," Wally growled, whipping the gun from behind his back and pointing it at the blue eyed one named Josiah. My "body" went numb from the horrorstruck that scorched through my body. Another murder, in this house?

Josiah did as he was told, and held his arms up in the air as well. He must have been in this situation before. That gave me some hope.

"C'mon, let's just talk about this Wally," Josiah begun to say, but Wally interrupted him, his voice shaky.

"Shut up, Wilde!" He yelled, waving the gun around. I could see sweat running down the sides of his face. He must have realized what trouble he got himself into.

Josiah rolled his sky blue eyes, shrugging. He proceeded with what he started before. "Really, Wally! Do you want to be doing this?" Josiah was turning around as he spoke. So much noise was going on around that I could barely hear him. But, his sudden movement spooked Wally so much that he pulled the trigger. A bullet whizzed toward Josiah, and I screamed, even though no one could hear me. But, maybe they did. All noise died after I did it. Josiah's head snapped back when the bullet made contact, blood spurting from his forehead. He slipped to the floor, his back crashing so hard on the old floors that the floorboards cracked around him. Josiah released one last shaky breath before his head rolling over with his eyes tracing after it. Commotion went on all around the house now, and the man called Wally was already heading toward the front door when people chased after him.

I raced to Josiah's side, oddly enough, being able to touch his body. I lifted his head, studying the wound on his head. He was dead now, that I knew. But it must have hit his brain just right to kill him so quickly, yet slowly. I heard movement behind me, but I ignored it, still staring at Josiah's lifeless body. I figured they couldn't see me, so I didn't bother.

Until. "What the hell!" A voice exclaimed behind me.

I peered over my shoulder, and to my fright, Josiah was standing near the back of the kitchen, gaping at me, whom held his actual body.