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Laying In A Puddle

I've been laying in this puddle for a long time. My eyes open, shining against the dull ground I lay upon. Each of my breaths seemed to sting, something causing the world around me to bleed.

It's started to rain now, crying on my neck and over my shirt. My face seemed to have been forgotten, my form light.

A small paper boat floated by, it's paper consisting of words and phrases written by intelligent people.

My slow eyes followed it as I floated by, the puddle I lay in barely covering half my arm deep in the cold liquid.

The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow on the dark world.

I didn't sit up, I didn't feel cold, nor did I feel hungry.

Normally one would be hungry in the morning right? Maybe shuffle down the stairs, head to the kitchen, make some food to satisfy the monster in your stomach.

I watched the paper boat, it spun slowly in a circle as the sun rose faster.

The water I was laying in simply was there, it didn't make me different or cause me releif nor pain.

I jumped in shock when a foot stamped over the small paper in front of me, I looked up, seeing a woman walking by.

Her tall heels clipping over the sidewalk, a large black umbrella above her as she went past.

Not casting a single glance towards me.

My eyes went back to where the boat was, it was now crumpled and soaked, useless.

I stayed where I was.

Laying in a puddle, seemingly in an uncomfortable position.

One of my arms was behind me, twisted to a painful looking angle, my legs at awkward places. My face was pressed on the concrete, feeling nothing as the slow dark leak never stopped.

Eventually the house I was laying in front of came to life, lights flicking on.

That was when I sat up, my hand going to my forehead and feeling the everpresent hole there.

I stood, looking up at the house. The water didn't stick to me, nor did my presence effect the world.

The dark fluid ran down my face from the hole in my head, my feet not moving an inch from where I was.

It should be cold, my body should have bumps and shiver due to the early morning air.

Nothing. As always.

Finally the door opened in the house, the two toned man walking out of the door.

I smiled, looking at his beautiful face. He looked tired, but better...

Jean

I reached out, wanting to hug and kiss the man walking down the small walkway to the pavement.

Yet his body passed through my open arms.

Like always.

I sighed and looked down at myself, looking at my clear hands and sad floating body.

I was a ghost, mangled and broken in this world. I died right here, right outside my house. I was shot, right in the head, left for dead.

Jean, my boyfriend, had found me then. He kissed me, not moving my dead self as he begged for me to come back.

Alas, I simply watched. I found when you were a ghost you can't talk.

I stood in the same place the whole day, not moving or reacting. People shivered as they past through me, giving me a small burst of warmth before leaving.

Eventually Jean came back home from work, he stopped in front of the gate at his house and looked down at the ground.

Taking out a flower, setting it down where I was laying before.

"Hey Marco...It's been 7 years...I miss you. I'm sorry...But I'm moving out. I'm going across seas. I hope you are proud of me love, thank you" Jean said softly, looking at the flower as I stared at his face.

If I was human tears would run down my face, I would scream in anger and sadness.

He was leaving me?!

I sighed, choosing to forget his words.

I just stretched out my arms, happy to see him again.

Jean.

Jean turned, walking inside as always.

The night came, and again I laid down where I always did.

I can't wait to see him tomorrow.

crimsonwolf1221 :3