Touch by an Angel
I can't really remember too much about the world of the living anymore, but I do know this. The new owner of my house is the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Also the person I most hate. But to understand my story, you have to understand my past.
My name was Luke Harington. I was 27 years old when I died. I was a struggling artist who lived in up-state New York. One day I came home and was murdered for my house. Apparently it was valuable or something, because my killer showed no emotion when he killed me. But fortunately, he was caught and tried for murder. My affairs were handled by my lawyer, and everything should have been fine after that, but it wasn't. I am a ghost who can't move on into the afterlife and basically haunt my own home. I'm stuck in my house and can't leave. For years the owners of my house have come and gone, mainly because I like to torment them. You know, the usual slamming the door, the crash of breaking expensive china, stuff like that. So far, three exorcisms have been preformed to try and make me leave. Believe me, I sure want to, but I can't, so I make the most of it and play tricks on the priests after they finish their little chants in Latin.
But all of this changed when the former owners got tired of buying new plates and moved out. In came the new owner. I should hate her because she lives while I cannot. She is beautiful, athletic, charming, kind, intelligent, and kind. And her name is Sofia. This lovely human is around 25 years old and owns a small yet prosperous fashion design company. She has short blonde hair and stormy gray eyes. I fell in love, dear reader, from the very moment I first laid my dead eyes on her. But she doesn't even know I exist. That makes me mad, so I play the usual pranks, but she doesn't seem to mind. I yank her hair, rearrange her furniture, but Sofia never noticed. Too busy with her work to notice, I guess. Soon I grew tired of playing tricks and decided to embrace the fact that Sofia was here to stay. I soon took up a new hobby. Watching her work. And I learned many secrets. For example, Sofia likes to twirl her hair around her finger when she is stressed, wears T-shirts and jeans when she isn't working on some new fashion wave. She seems like my kind of person. But she never notices me. Every so often I sit on her bed and wait for her to take a shower. I listen to her sing. Sofia has the most melodious voice I have ever heard, in all my years alive and dead. Then she gets ready for bed. And after she is finished, she curls up in the corner of her bedroom and reads in her old rocking chair. I sit and wait, sometimes reading over her shoulder. When Sofia finally puts down her book and goes to sleep, I still watch. Ghosts don't need sleep, you know. I sometimes drift over to her side of the bed and sit beside her, stroking her beautiful hair gently. Dear reader, you may think I am crazy. Obsessed, maybe even delusional. But you can't even begin to imagine the love I feel for this beautiful creature. I find myself enraged whenever Sofia brings another human home for dinner. The girls not so much as the boys. Because they do not place their arms around her and ask to come over again. I like to wreak havoc whenever they try to make conversation with her. I flip their food plates over, slap them in the face, even appear in front of them. All the while taunting them and warning them to stay away. But, alas, they do not. Although they continue to see Sofia, the do not try and come into the house. I am glad my message was clear. But through all of this, I still am no-existent, at least to her. Sofia has seemed to have blocked me out of her head, so that I do not bother her as much. Or so it seemed.
One night, while Sofia was reading and I watching, she suddenly slammed her book down and stood up. "Luke, if you are there, hear me!" she cried, with a look of profound fury on her face. "I know all about you! How you died, what you have done to previous owners of this house, that you watch me every night. But what I do not understand is why you cause so much pain to my guests while you do nothing to me." Sofia's expression grew softer now, to my great relief. "I pity you, Luke, I really do. I am upset by the fact that you feel you have to send my suitors away just to get my attention. Yes, I do know that you read over my shoulder, listen to me sing, and watch over me as I sleep. I think that is noble, but I can't take much more of it. At first, I thought of moving out. But, as I thought about it more and more, I realized that I kind of enjoy the fact that I am loved by a ghost." Loved by a ghost, she said. So Sofia did know I loved her. I wasn't just some random, strange occurrence that she had to put up with. I was real. "I pity the fact that you feel neglected, Luke," she continued. "You think I can't see or hear you. But I can. And I think… I think… that I could grow to love you." Sofia smiled, and that smile made me feel like I was once again alive! I was ready to rush up to Heaven and back down again. But then she frowned. "But, if you're not real, Luke. You are some figment of my imagination. Then I am nothing but a fool," she said. With that thought, Sofia settled down into her bed and fell asleep. Normally I would sit by her bedside and watch her, but tonight was different. I floated downstairs and sat down on her couch, thinking. Sofia believed in me. She had her doubts, but never the less, she believed. And that fact alone could make me the happiest dead man in the world. So happy, in fact, that I again felt like I could live and breathe again. It was like being touched by an angel.