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The Story of a Ghost (Fictional Short Story)
In the late evening hours, I sat on the firm surface of my bed. I can’t go back to sleep; in louver, I waited until the last sunlit peeped through the slats. That moment I was in such agony that it made my eyes starry. In a flick, my thoughts wanted to see the distant place where the moments of loved ones are. Although it was an intercession, I welcomed everything in alliance with my deep longing for the happy event. My heart was clamoring to see them all; my eyes shone with pleasure for all the fine senses of deep affection. While time held its breath, it gave me the way to reunite with the past.
I went back to the time where I was sitting with other children maybe 6 or 7 years old and where a lady teacher believed that she held a stone whisper would always know about any hidden evil happenings in her class. Magic, then introduced into the innocent mind. There was also a garden where a dwarf statue changed position from time to time. It was a superstitious belief that blossomed in every child.
Then there was a strong nostalgic feeling that brought back those times where I spent playing outside the house; I played glass marble games by putting it in small holes just by pressing between my index finger and thumb as I moved it. I was a child expert at hitting my opponent’s marble even 4 to 5 feet away. As time passed freely, I was taken to the scene where I was playing the soccer game called “sipa” in the Filipino language – made of a washing machine with colorful threads or plastic straw attached to it. I wear a good pair of rubber shoes that tossing the sipa upwards and catch to avoid touching the ground; I had to count the necessary number of times in tossing the sipa, and then hit as much as possible, away from the opponent to let him chase and catch him by his foot. In the swirling movement around, I found myself holding a hand of playing cards running away from other players asking for a share of some of my playing cards. In another scene, I was trying to save a teammate captured by another base and tried to also secure our base from an intruder in what was called “catch and own a corner” or “agawan base” game in the Filipino dialect. I have won and lost many games but with all these; I found new friends until the playmats were folded up and stored in the corner when childhood moments slipped away as they ran uncomfortably into more mature roles.
My eyes fluttered and suddenly I was transported back to my high school days, where I was under the heat of the sun practicing the military marching cadence; in those who test stamina; I can overcome discipline and endurance; all the nearby barbers were too busy to attend to those cadets who needed a haircut. I was a frequent visitor to the library where the research was done as there was no internet in those days. I spent many times reading and writing the researched information and stayed up late at night reviewing the notes. The weather was so generous that it showed the events where I was clinging to the back of a jeepney to take me to school and sometimes I would walk quickly from home to school when the traffic was worst in those times. The moment was splendid when he showed me taking my lunch to school and eating by the shore with the trees in the background. I did not go far to find a university; in the same place that the high school was where I attended my university. There was no escape from a tumultuous life in university life, which even in a more mature life, I was not spared from bullying where an English teacher made me stand in the class next to a classmate class and asked someone to make comparisons between us. It brought humiliation where I found it hard to forget. Somewhere during the last school year, I got sick and decided to stop – to make way for a minor stomach operation. That is why I graduated in the span of 5 years and did not join the graduation ceremonies.
As time passed, I was on a night job working in the bank, reconciling the data and went home the next morning. So I saw myself doing most of the time clerical work, data control and data coding, until I found a permanent job in the government that I served with sincerity and then got married and settled down. The most precious part was seeing me travel with my wife and son along with other family members. I appreciate the moments playing with my son, discovering fun ways to talk to him even in long distance communication. It was fascinating to see moments that I share a pleasant life with my wife who can turn my life around with her loving and caring nature. Time stretched on showing more details of my mother devoted to tireless and loving care. Time traveled until the most critical decision of my life – to work in a foreign land that embraces different customs and cultures. The strict observance of the law had fortified and displayed my personality. Every day, I resided in the virtual world, where communication was established on the Internet. Life outside the country of origin was like a ritual: go to work, call family, send money back, and work again to earn a living. The disease I tried to avoid is why I strived for a healthy life.
Over time, again inside the room, small and large details that, in a patchwork quilt, would tell someone that I have memorable memories. The years spent living in a foreign land was like being thrown out of my safe house, that’s why great changes happened with my body: gray hair prevailed, memory expired, body pain inexplicably, the stress, homesickness and loneliness were all over my body to deteriorate. .
While the surroundings snoozed silence in the evening ceasing the entertainment in how the crowd moves where only a few win the much coveted place of life. I no longer have time – time to communicate with loved ones, to no longer play a role with the community, to wake up at dawn, no longer had to rush to work and clash with the crowd for the appointment of business, no more. to deal with the threat of a suicide attack in a crowded place. The sad thing was, I couldn’t touch and feel anything around me, and I felt like a spirit staying in the earthly dimension and among the world of jinn. Many thoughts flooded my mind. How could it happen? I still have so much to do, am I now a ghost of the earth? Now, I feared more than anything else to be isolated with my loved ones; I don’t know how to accept that I was dead. I am still obliged to feed my child, to grow old with my wife, and to see that they are well. Who will help me accept the last episode of my life? For the last time, I tried to hold my phone to call my family, but my hand only hovered over the tangible thing. I saw the light that pulls me; I needed to decide if I would pass into the light or stay in the earthly dimension. I decided to remain the spirit of the earth in search of someone who is sensitive to spirits and could help me understand death.
I stayed calm, cried sometimes, moved and learned what a ghost could do. Then the rain came; someone knocked on the door, it was a child looking for shelter, he tried everything to enter my house, until he found a way to enter. Suddenly I met him and probably saw myself passing by him. “Do you live here?” The boy asked.
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