47 | A Place Where Happiness is Misplaced

1597 Words
If ghosts ever feel sick, it could have happened to me by now. I was wandering around the sky, trying to recall where Jacob Paulo lived. Because this journey is all about forgetting that useful information and then it blasts right across the face whenever I learn about it or recall it. How did I find Jacob’s house? Simple. It’s one of those recalling moments I sometimes have. Though I don’t remember the major parts of it I certainly remembered those times we roamed around certain places (thanks to those flashbacks). And with my deductions skills, I figured out where Jacob lives. It was in another town, an hour away from my town but certainly near the school which is in the city. I don’t remember being in this neighborhood but of course, I’ve seen them in the flashbacks. Unlike my neighborhood, Jacob’s neighborhood was busy. Where mine is quiet, this neighborhood seemed to delight in partying. When I said my town is the definition of the government’s lack of attention, this town, however, seemed like the forgotten one. I could see graffiti everywhere. And they aren’t like those wholesome graffiti. It includes drawings of male genitalia and some vulgar words those feeling cool boys in highschool used to say at school. And when I looked at the other side, I could see someone tried to write something wholesome but misspelled ‘happiness’ to ‘hapenis’. Or maybe that was on purpose—I don’t know. At least he tried. The garbage bins were turned upside down and the garbage littered across the street. Some of the light posts were barely standing and a gush of wind could probably make it collapse. In the distance, I could hear the upbeat music and when I looked for where it came from, I saw the lights flashing in the sky. They’re like colorful flashlights swaying across the sky as if calling its attention. I followed those colorful lights and I found myself in front of the biggest house in the town by far. It was a big one but certainly an old house. I could see it from the cracks and dirt spots on the pillars supporting the second story of the house. The front yard looked like the family has been busy planting herbs and never bothered to trim and maintain them. The front porch was full of people—men and women—as they were holding either a glass of drink, a phone, a cigarette, or all three. The music was even louder and even though I was near enough, I still couldn't understand what the music was, and yet I could see people dancing to it. Raising their arms and closing their eyes. I could hear screams and yells and laughter and I could see smoke. Lots of it. But that’s not the worst part. On the side, just beside the tree, I could see people making out. The guy’s hands were already going somewhere around the woman’s body and I blinked and turned away. I know I am a ghost but that doesn’t mean I am free to sneak at people’s business just because they don’t see me and they are not aware of my presence. From the crowd of people, one person definitely stood out. He was wearing a navy blue shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black pants. His hair was neatly styled and he looked sociable and approachable enough. And the way he holds himself amidst the crowd tells me he is someone who made this party happen. He was smiling and drinking and laughing. I have never seen him before. Or maybe I have but I just don’t remember. I remained standing in front of the house wondering if I should go in or not. If Mikhael was here, he’d know what to do. But I shook my head. Mikhael isn’t here and I have to do this all on my own. I stared at the man, trying to recall if he is someone familiar but no matter how hard I rack my brain for answers, I couldn’t find any. But then something unexpected happened. I don’t know if it was just my imagination or did the lights and the smoke made me dizzy somehow but his eyes met mine. He was staring at me. Right into my eyes as if he could actually see me. He dropped the cup he was holding and his eyes widened into pure shock—no, horror. Can he see me? How can he see me? Someone from the crowd touched his elbow and it caught his attention. I immediately walked away from the house the moment he removed his eyes on me. I don’t know him but does he know me? Does he know I am a ghost? I checked myself. I wasn’t glowing like that time when we visit my flashbacks. I was completely normal-looking. I could blend in the crowd and Mikhael would never spot me. But that guy—he couldn’t possibly know I am a ghost unless if he knows I already died. That only means he must be someone I know. He must someone like Mars, my brother. He must be someone who could see ghosts. I sighed. I must be careful whenever I show up. I don’t have any idea if a person could see ghosts or not. And it would be scary as hell for them to randomly see ghosts. I was already far enough from the house that I barely hear the music anymore. The neighborhood was very quiet. Perhaps all the people in here are at that party. I walked down the bumpy street and saw the flickering lights ahead. This town is way worse than mine and I had the nerve to complain about mine before without thinking there are places like this. Jacob lived here? I looked around the houses. Jacob could be anywhere in these houses. Or perhaps he was at that party. But I can’t risk myself getting seen there. It appears one person from that party can see me. What if other people knew me and they suddenly saw me attending the party? That would be scary and I wouldn’t want that to happen to me. So I wandered around the neighborhood. The only good thing about this neighborhood was probably the fact that the houses have family names. It’s was easy to identify that a certain family of five with the last name of Wilsons lived in a certain house. So walked and went to each of the houses to check the names on their doors or on the pillars. Jacob Paulo Leos. That is his name. The houses were not arranged in alphabetical order and I wished it was. But of course, life wouldn’t make it too easy for me. So go to houses one by one. Sometimes, walking gets tiring so I have to fly and go to another house. I looked at the watch in my hand and I figured several hours have passed since Mikhael disappeared. He said he will be back and I will be waiting for him. I know he will find me wherever I am. After all, he is my partner. This journey wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for him. It’s late in the night and I think the party won’t be stopping soon. That’s the thing with parties. They last until all people pass out. I haven’t been to one when I was still alive. At least that’s as far as I can remember. I might have been to one. But that’s another flashback. As far as I can remember, I am the type of person who would cancel plans. I am the type of person who’s too lazy to get up and hang out with friends. I am someone who doesn’t get invited too often when it comes to social gatherings like that. I might be an introvert but I swear if I get comfortable enough with the people around me, I can socialize too. I sighed and stopped walking. I looked at the lamp post that’s almost giving up. The lights were flickering and I could see the c***k on the lamppost’s body. As if someone intentionally hit it with something sharp. The lights continue to flicker until it was completely gone. “Nice,” I said. I groaned inwardly as I continued to walk until I reached a house. It was different than the others but this was the last of the first lane. It was big. I think bigger than the party house I saw earlier. I walked towards it and searched for the name of the family living there but I found none. But I could see a sculpture on both sides of the stairs leading to the porch of the house. Lion sculptures. I didn’t think much of it but then when I walked up the stairs. The stairs were wooden and it creaked with every of my step. I wonder if this is what those people who have experienced creepy stuff heard. Unlike other houses, this particular house was dark as if nobody lived there. The lights were turned off and I couldn’t see the inside of the house. But something tells me to check it further. The house was quiet. In fact, the whole neighborhood was quiet. It was like this place was void of happiness. It was misplaced somewhere. Then I remembered the graffiti on the wall. Perhaps that was intentional, after all. * * *
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