THE JOURNEY OF SHEIRA HART

26 | Not Monsters But Flashbacks

You may have wondered what kind of veil I was talking about. So I’ll make an easy analogy for you. Imagine a closet inside your room. The very same closet you used to get scared of because you believed there were monsters in it. And then you would leave your door open so the light from the hallways of your house would enter your room and it wouldn’t be too dark. Then you would get less scared of the closet. The veil was like that. It was like opening a closet to see what was inside. The difference is that there were no monsters in it. 

They showed me flashbacks of my life when I was still alive. And currently, my past self is walking down the crowded corridor to attend the last class of the day. I already had an idea of what’s going to happen after a couple of hours. But we followed my past self, making our way through the crowd. Well, not really making way, we just walk through them. It didn’t feel like a punch in the gut anymore. It felt more like a wisp of wind touched my skin whenever I pass through something or someone. I looked at the watch in my hand. 

“How many days do we have?” asked Mikhael. I looked at him and continued walking. 

“Four days,” I answered. “But the last time, we were given a week. We didn’t even get to finish the time limit and we were sent back to the train.” 

Mikhael placed his hand behind his head and whistled at the group of girls coming in our direction. 

“Simply because you already knew what you needed to know in that stop. And besides, you forgot that time here in the living world is different from the afterlife.” 

I looked far ahead. It made sense. So far, what I knew was that I died from an accident. An accident I have yet to find out. And that I had a boyfriend whose name is Jacob and was devastated by my death. What I learned from the first stop was something so crucial I am starting to get scared of what I might find out in the second stop. It shouldn’t be more surprising than the first, right? 

We stopped in our tracks when we saw my past self, talking to some members of the popular kids. Since when did I become friends with them? 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate them. I just hate popularity. They aren’t mean kids. They’re quite friendly in fact. The reason they were famous was that they are top students, athletes, cheerleaders, and some are just ordinary friendly people. Being friends with any of them would have the students’ attention on you, too. And like I said before, I hate the rules that came with popularity. 

And as far as I can remember, I did my best not to get myself acquainted with anyone of them. Especially with the two popular girls in my class. They invite everyone to their parties and I was never fond of crowded places so I would decline their offers every time that I am almost running out of excuses.  

But what I am seeing at the very moment was me, shaking hands at one of the girls with blond streaks of hair. I remember her name was Amelia. She is known to be the lead vocalist of a band. She plays the drums occasionally too. At least I remembered that. But I couldn’t remember as to why I was shaking her hands. Or even talking to her in the first place. I didn’t have a lot of popular friends. Jacob was popular. Very popular, in fact. 

“Perhaps we’re going to find out,” Mikhael said as if reading what was on my mind. I didn’t respond and just stared at myself as I was talking to Amelia. And the longer I stared at myself I could see I admire the woman in front of me. 

You see, Amelia gives off a cool-girl vibe. She looked pretty despite the heavy makeup she put on her face. It didn’t look awkward on her. She looked even more gorgeous with it. And her hair was so black the blond streaks stood out so much. She had a piercing on her nose but since she’s at school, she didn’t wear it and only wears it when she plays in her band. Overall, she looked cool. Even now, as I watch her, I could say, she’s a cool girl and I would have loved to be friends with her. 

I shook the thought away. I am here to find out what I needed to find in this stop. And for some reason, I was brought here, in my school. Again. I have racked my brain to what possibilities waiting for me. And so far, I could only get one answer. 

Friends. 

I might be seeing myself through flashbacks as to who my friends are. I don’t know if it has anything to do with my death but there must be something here that is somehow related to it. And I need to find that out whatever happens. 

We heard the bell rang and students started to go back to their classroom. I never get why they like littering in the hallways. It was too crowded and too noisy. The moment you get out of the classroom, you’d think you were in a market. 

We walked towards the classroom. The door was marked ‘4A’ which was the class I belonged to. We pass through the door and saw the students still finishing the business they had in the hallway. It was only when a teacher came inside that everyone went quiet. 

“You look attentive,” I heard Mikhael said over my shoulder. I just sighed. I really did look attentive. It was like I was ready to answer any questions given by our teacher. I resisted the urge to put a palm in my face. 

The teacher greeted the students and they did the same. And then the discussion started. It was all about Biology. I could remember I liked the class. And hearing it again feels really nostalgic. Mikhael went around the classroom, intentionally pushing pens over the desk until it falls and disturbs the quiet class. 

I looked at my teacher. She was a dreamer. That I could remember. She would tell ghost stories, myths, and legends, and ghosts are always involved. I didn’t believe it. I have made myself believe that she was just talking about it to entertain the students. See, Biology is a boring subject for most and the teacher felt the need to add some spice to her discussions like she would incorporate myths about the human reproductive system and the class would listen attentively. 

I have always thought it was a wise move. You see, people remember things easily if it’s something interesting. Like a gossip. But for our biology teacher, uses a good story that would get anyone hooked and would even remember the topics incorporated into that story. It was that easy. 

“I have experience with ghosts,” I heard her say. And it must have caught Mikhael’s attention too because he stopped flipping one of my classmate’s books. He stood up and looked at my teacher with a grin on his face. 

I sighed.  “di Angelo,” I warned but he just shrugged. 

“What? I’m not going to do anything, don’t worry too much about me.” 

I scoffed. The audacity of this guy. “I am not worried about you. I’m worried about my teacher. If you end up killing her, I’ll have you know I am not inclined to go to the underworld and drag you back up.” 

He grinned. “You’re thinking about it. And that only means you’d go to the underworld to pick me up even as you say you wouldn’t.” He winked and I scoffed at his sheer confidence. 

“Your confidence is so insufferable,” I said and crossed my arms. 

“I can see you’re getting used to it.” 

“Wish me luck.” 

“Of course,” he answered and grinned at me before he walked towards where my teacher was standing. 

I looked at my teacher who has already perched herself on the table at the center, a sign that it’s going to be a long story. 

“I’ve felt ghosts,” she started. Mikhael scoffed and proceeded to extend his hand and slap my teacher’s forehead. Nothing happened. 

I’ve always wondered before whenever I listen to her stories if what she’s telling was true. I’ve always wondered if she could feel them like she claims. But seeing her not even flinching when Mikhael slapped her forehead, at least I knew I was right to wonder. 

“I could see them,” she continued. Mikhael waved his hand in front of her and jumped around but my teacher didn’t even flinch or batted an eyelash. 

“Will you stop doing that?” I hissed and he just looked at me. 

“Your teacher is a liar.” 

“I know that. Now stop it.” 

He blew his hair and crossed his arms as he remained standing in front of my teacher. “This is boring,” he said. 

“Sometimes when I was alone at night, I could feel them. There was no wind, I wasn’t a fan of fans, either. But one night, one creepy night, my window suddenly opened on their own and all the papers I’ve worked so hard to compile flew all around the room.” 

I remember this story and I remember exactly what happened next. The classroom window suddenly opened and a gush of wind entered the room. I could hear the whole class rubbing their arms as they felt the cold wind. While me? I was looking at the window and then I froze on my feet when I see her eyes set on where I was standing there. I swallowed hard. Unable to process what is happening but then I realized there was a piece of paper on my feet. And my past self was looking at it. I heaved a deep breath. 

She stood up and walked towards where I was. My feet were still glued on the floor, which was saying something considering I am a ghost. But I was just standing there, looking at her, my past self, as she gets closer to where I was. When she was close enough, she crouched down and picked the piece of paper that fell. She didn’t meet my eye. I couldn’t see ghosts while I was alive. And I would lose my mind if I happen to see ghosts and see myself standing there in the same room. It would be like foreseeing my death. 

But anyway, back to the present. She stood straight and went back to where the table was and placed the papers there while the teacher picked the rest up. I sighed in relief. For a moment there I really thought she could see me. Mikhael was smirking in my direction, probably having fun at that momentary crisis I had. 

“So, what are we doing here, anyway? Are we just going to stand here and watch your flashbacks?” 

I gave him a bland look. “Why do you think we were sent here, anyway?” I looked at myself. She was already seated in her seat. I swallowed hard as I looked at her. Really looked at her. Color adorned her cheeks. Though her eyes look bored, she definitely looked like she has lived a nice life, as if she was satisfied but I knew I wasn’t. I knew I had a lot of things I hated. But then I have come to realize I hated even the smallest details that I could have done better appreciating it. I looked at her and saw a small smile curving her lips as a guy handed her one of the pieces of paper. 

And when I looked at the guy, it all dawned on me. 

It was one of the popular kids. Miro Nile. I remembered him to be Amelia’s boyfriend. 

And he was my crush. 

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