A NOT SO PEACEFUL MORNING
857 Words
I wake up to the sound of rain drops hitting my window. Slowly, I open my eyes as they adjust to the brightness of the room.
"Is that really how you wake up?" I hear and my eyes shoot open in the direction of the voice.
I see a man seated on the chair at the corner of the room. His figure looks rather faint to that of a normal person and I immediately scream in fear. In the process, I fall off the bed and partly hit my head against the nearby drawer but I'm too frightened to even think of the pain.
"Wh.... Who are you!?" I stammer.
"What do you mean who am I? Do you seriously pray for people you don't know?" He asks in a mocking tone.
I stay quiet and stare at him in disbelief. There is no way, no how, I am talking to a spirit. I convince myself and gather up the courage to ask again.
"Who.... Are.... You?" I say between gritted teeth this time.
Not because I'm angry but simply because I'm scared to death.
"I'm your worst nightmare." He says with a smirk and stands up from the chair, or rather, he floats from the chair and starts coming towards me.
At this point I've lost all energy to scream and tears start to well up in my eyes. I get so scared that I start to lose consciousness and eventually, everything turns pitch black.
~~~
"Ouch." I let out a groan as I slowly get up from the bed.
Wait what? The bed? But, I was on the floor a few minutes ago and.... Oh yeah.
"It must have been a dream." I say to myself.
"But then why does my head hurt so much?" I reach out to the back of my head and feel something oily. Ointment?
"Maybe because it wasn't." I hear and my head shoots to the direction of the voice.
The same man I saw in my dream was on the chair with a book over his face.
"Ah!" I screamed.
"Not this again." He rolled his eyes.
"What the hell!" I exclaimed and instinctively threw a pillow at him.
The pillow flew across the room and instead of hitting him, it fell onto the chair with a thud.
"But, how?" I asked myself because the pillow did not hit him. It's like it just went through his body.
At this point I thought I was seeing things.
"Could you tell me when you're done freaking out so that I can explain things?" He says it in a way that implies that he's bored.
I take in a few deep breaths before asking him.
"Who or what are you?"
"Well if you must know, my name is Kyle, Kyle Olsen to be precise. As for what I am, haven't you already guessed?" He asks.
"Kyle Olsen? Okay, this is officially a dream. Kyle is dead." I say and start chuckling.
"You think it's funny that he's dead?" He hovers over to me and moves my chin up to make me face him but I barely feel his touch.
I stare into his beautiful light blue eyes. There's a strong fire burning within them as he pierces me with his strong gaze and anger written all over his face.
His body is a faint view and instead of legs, he has a trail of something that looks like smoke which seems to have a never ending fade away effect.
His hair is a dark brown color and some locks of it softly play over his face with each movement he makes.
"Answer me!" He yells in my face.
"No! No! No! No! It's definitely not funny." I respond in fear.
He sighs and let's go of my face.
"Whatever." He starts.
"You can at least say thank you for putting the ointment in your head."
"Thank... You." I hesitate.
He ignores that and asks me a question.
"Who are you?"
"Mia, Mia Lavenski."
"Well Mia, if you must know, I'm a ghost." He says casually as he goes back to the chair and takes a seat.
'And this is a haunted house?" I ask.
"Bingo."
I remain quiet for some time before speaking up with full confidence.
"Get out." I demand.
"What!?" He responds in a surprised tone.
"I need to take a shower so I need to get undressed. Get out." I say and get out of the bed.
"Are you kidding me? You do know that this is my house right?"
"I don't care. If I can't wake up from this dream then I'd rather do as I please before I actually wake up." I say as I pick out an outfit for the day from the closet.
"You really believe that this is a dream, don't you?" He says in an irritated tone.
"Yes." I happily answer.
He let's out a long sigh before finally leaving the room. He doesn't go through the door, rather he just goes straight through the wall.
Ghosts aren't real. I keep saying this to myself as I prepare to take my bath.
- Writer
