Ghost Mirror
Crunch, Crunch.
The twig snaps in two under my feet.
Shh, shh.
The wind dances with leaves.
On and on I walk, the moonlight glowing dimly.
Crunch, crunch.
Yes, that would be my feet.
I look down. There are no twigs.
I shiver. I must be imagining it.
The footsteps come closer, closer, closer… and a pause.
Something cold is behind me. An animal? It doesn’t sound like it. Could it be someone? This late at night?
Who could it-
A chilling hand grabs my shoulder. And the rustle of leaves stop. The wind grows cold.
I whip around. But no one’s there.
No, it is my imagination. Go on.
I step slowly to the edge of this mountain and look down.
Darkness. Nothingness. I close my eyes.
I step forward, and the blackness swallows me.
I open my eyes. I am in total darkness. Then a voice speaks.
“Welcome to death.”
I listen, heart beating fast.
“You have not reached the age of thirteen, so you will wander for a year as a ghost in the world.”
What, another year?
But before I can answer, I find myself standing beside my body. But a girl is there. With the light, blue eyes, and the thick, brown hair, and the thin, scarlet lips. I was looking at myself. Or was I? As I approached, she focused her icy eyes on me, just like I would.
“We look alike, don’t we.” Her lips move smoothly.
No, we are identical.
I draw her in. those slender arms, the white hands, the skinny legs. She was my mirror.
“I saw you fall.”
And the realization comes rushing at me. So, it was her cold hands that had grabbed my shoulder. So, she is a ghost like me? Probably. As my gaze searches for a difference, I find one. On her wrist, she had a half heart shaped birthmark like mine, but hers were smooth and in waves, but mine was in straight, rigid lines, and hers was the opposite side of my half heart.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Speranza”
“Infelicita”
“How did you die?”
A pause.
“A car accident.” Her voice was sad.
“Did you want to die?”
“Why would I?”
Maybe because of this cruel world? Or the harshness of life? Or how frustrating it is to live? Out of this universe of questions why ask this？Such an easy question to answer. Yet, she has picked it, this question that I have always had a confident answer to.
“I guess I should go then, bye.”
“Goodnight.”
I walk away. But she stands there looking at me.
I walk along this path I just came from, but her words repeat themselves again and again in my ear. “Why would I?” the voice asks. The one question I was sure I could always answer. But am I right？I think I am. Or I thought I was. Uneasy, I sit on the ground, and lean on a tree. Thinking, thinking, thinking…
And far away the people who are still living, puzzle over this question, a question that has a universe of answers, from different people, from different views. And Speranza answers it, with one of these answers.
“The world is a fabulous place, why not live?”
