Chapter 11
649 Words
Over the next several weeks I killed ghosts, lots of them, so many that I stopped keeping track after a while. I also saved lives…I just didn"t know how many. Not all of the ghosts were accompanied by someone with an obvious affliction, so I couldn"t be sure if I was saving someone directly or just ridding the world of a potential hazard. This had become my obsession and was affecting every aspect of my being. I had no fear of repercussions either; the only thing that concerned me was that I had begun to notice a numbness in my finger when I poked them with it. Whether this had occurred those first few times I didn"t recall, but it was happening more frequently now. To combat this problem, I began carrying an unsharpened yellow number two pencil, long enough that I could stay at arms-length, plus six inches from each apparition, and short enough to keep it in my pocket.
I should mention that during all of this, there were two additional concerns, one minor, one not-so minor. On more than one occasion I had the curious sense of being watched. It was more of a sensation than anything else and it didn"t frighten me in the least, so for the most part I dismissed it. I probably shouldn"t have though. The second not so minor concern had to do with the ghosts…more specifically, the fact that I was encountering two different types—the demons that plagued people, and the “lost souls,” as I"d begun to think of them. These poor souls appeared benign, uninterested in the living, but attracted to yours truly. They seemed to beg with their eyes, like they wanted me to kill them.
not soWhether you believe it or not, there was something after death; I knew that for sure now, because I was killing the bad something on a daily basis. But I didn"t think the lost souls were bad, and I didn"t think this was what they had in mind…to wander through the plane of existence they used to occupy in life, without being able to participate in that life. The concern was, should I be killing them too? Who was I that I could be the executioner of their fate? What if I was sending them somewhere worse? But still, I couldn"t help myself; the pleading and gestures were often too much, and without consciously realizing what I was doing, my trusty yellow friend was at it again and they would swirl away into nothingness.
somethingsomethingAll of this was leading up to the inevitable. People had begun to notice my odd behavior. I was coming into the office late and taking long lunches, and it was obvious that my mind wasn"t focused on the job. Justine had been eyeballing me with concern for at least a few weeks. During my last softball game, I"d rounded home-base for a run, but instead made a wide arc at the last minute and stabbed a ghost standing close to the backstop. The catcher tagged me before I could hit the plate and I was out, but the umpire no longer needed that eye patch, so I thought I was justified.
That"s why I wasn"t surprised when my boss called me into his office. He went straight to the point…what was wrong with me? Knowing that the real answer wasn"t appropriate, I told him that I had some personal issues that I needed to address and asked for a leave of absence. That wasn"t exactly a financially stable move, but it was the only one I could think of on such short notice. He wanted to know why, which I declined to answer, and he didn"t like that, but he considered me a valued employee and the leave was granted. I had six weeks to get myself sorted out.
- Writer
