LOVE. No other name.

COLORED 5

                As much as I felt helpless, I also felt guilty.

                These are not the first stories I have “watched”. There were a lot before this. Romance, Drama, Action, Comedy, name it, I’ve seen it. And of course, there was the existence of ME, to smear a little Horror to everything. Please don’t think that I’m wicked, I’m not the haunting type of ghost, just the guarding kind of spirit. The only thing that makes me associated with horror is my being a ghost/spirit.

                I felt guilty that I let collapses happen, I let teardrops fall, and basically I just “watched” everything. Well, there wasn’t much I could do anyway, and them knowing of my presence would only make this area much, much more evaded. Wait, maybe that was one factor why this zone wasn’t so visited.

                I heard muffled sobs, and I saw a little girl, with hair in a ponytail, arms crossed over her chest, marching towards the bench. Her eyes, as well as her cheeks, were wet.

                A teenager, in an all-black outfit, sporting a crazy haircut was tailing her, not so far behind. She was almost jogging to catch up with the first girl’s pace.

                The younger girl had already sat on the bench, arms still crossed. She looked like she was 5, or 6. “Why don’t you help me find my puppy? I miss my Spotty.”

                The teenager replied, “Uhmmm. He’s already found a new home.”

                The little girl protested, “No, I bet he’s waiting for me to find him. Poor pup. Let’s go look for him.”

                As calmly as she could, the elder one struggled to explain, “Jeris, your puppy is in Heaven now.” A familiar situation.

                But the young one, being young, could not understand. “What about Daddy? The last time I saw him awake, he was with my puppy, driving away. When’s he waking up and leaving that hos..hospital?” The mere mention of “hospital” made me remember something.

                The conversation was interrupted when a haggard-looking woman, dressed like any other typical mother, came to sit beside them.

                She had been listening to their most recent dialogue, and so she responded to the little girl’s question, “Jeris, don’t wait for your Dad any longer.”

                A child was a child, often persistent and unbelieving. “But, Maj told me he was just sleeping. When will he wake up?” She looked at her sister for answers.

                Maj answered in a reassuring tone of voice, “Soon, Jeris. Really soon.”

                Their mother seemed annoyed, “Maj, I thought we had this talk before. You know your father is on life support—“

                Maj’s voice was booming, “SO? I know he’s still fighting. Have a little faith, Mom!”

                The Mom appeared tired and was unsure of what to say next. “Maj, listen to me.”

                But her daughter was a rebel, and she stormed at her, “How could you ever think of switching that machine off? He’ll wake up—“

                Their Mom was near tears, talking with force this time, “The doctor says he would NEVER!”