A yawn escapes my mouth as I trek home from college, my small studio apartment calling my name. The sun had just set, taking the red and pink hues of the sky and replacing them with a navy blue sheen.
It was cloudy, and the moon was trying desperately to shine through the thick coverage. I glance from side to side, checking my surroundings for anyone that could be around. The streets and alleyways are strangely empty, opposite of the normal bustle of people roaming the night after work.
I bop my head to the beat of the music that's currently coming in through my headphones, and I pull on my backpack strap, readjusting it. My phone is in my hand, always on standby in case I need it. A sudden chill sweeps through the area, and I wrap my jacket closer around my body.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck perk up, goosebumps popping up all over my body. The wind sends a shiver down my spine, chilling me to the bone.
Winter is soon coming, and I shake my head at the thought of it. There's just something about winter that makes me uncomfortable. I'm not sure if it's because of my apartment's horrible heating, or because of the fact that I just don't like to be cold.
As I walk down the street, I notice something in the middle of the sidewalk. At first, I think that its a piece of trash left by the garbage man. Then, it starts moving, knees perched on the ground with a pile of what looks like dark vomit below them. In the dim light, though, its kind of hard to make out.
It occurs to me that it's a person, a boy around my age. I take my headphones off of my ears and place them on my neck. He makes what sounds like a retching noise, and I eye him suspiciously. I usually don't make it a habit to explore dark alleys in the middle of the night.
"Gosh," I shake my head, understanding what I was seeing. "People will get drunk anywhere nowadays."
I lock eyes with the boy, us staring at each other for a couple of seconds. They were dark and lidded over, making a cold sweat appear on my palms. Deciding that its best I avoid trouble, I break our eye contact.
My feet continue on, and I begin heading down the sidewalk that leads to my apartment.
People have gone crazy. I think to myself, turning and walking up the metal stairs of the complex. My converse make a slight tapping noise as they hit each step, ringing out in the dead of night. I reach the third floor and walk to my front door, fumbling with my keys.
The door next to mine opens, and my neighbor swings her hips as she walks out. Her brown hair is in a high ponytail, and she pushes up the rim of her glasses. On her face is the same distained expression I'm so used to seeing.
"Stephanie," She starts, crossing her arms over her chest. I roll my eyes at her use of my real name.
I finally manage to unlock the door and I look over at her. "How many times do I have to tell you Becky?" I ask. "My name's Stella. Stella." I pronounce my name slowly.
She rolls her eyes, her joints stiffening under the tight pantsuit she's wearing.
"Stephanie," She ignores me. "How many times must I tell you to control your cat? Honestly, I don't even know why our landlord even allows animals. Your feline makes noise during the day and disrupts my studying."
"She's a cat." I grit, adjusting my backpack and opening my door. "How much noise could she make?"
With that I walk inside my apartment, closing the door behind me. I push a strand of my hair behind my ear as I slide my converse off at the door.
"Muffin," I call her name, walking into the room and sitting my backpack down onto the couch. She's no where to be seen, so I begin to search for her.
I eventually find her in my bedroom relaxed out on my blue comforter. Her small paws play with a piece of fuzz that she watches with determination.
"Muffin," I pick her up in my arms. "Ms. 'Becky better than us' says you're making too much noise during the day."
She purrs as I pet her gray fur, scratching behind her ears. I sit her down on the floor as I walk to my kitchen, getting some food out for her.
She eats salmon out of her pink bowl, and I heat up my leftover spaghetti from the night before. My butt finds a place on top of the counter as I cross my legs, slurping up each saucy noodle. I sip on my Coca-Cola, and it's not long until I'm finished eating.
I wash the dishes and clean off the surface of the counter and table with a paper towel. Sitting down on the couch later, I pull out my sketchbook and begin flipping through the drawings.
Muffin rubs against my legs, and she jumps on top of the coffee table, examining what I'm doing. Upon figuring out that I didn't have any food, she curls into a ball on the glass, resting.
"Lazy cat," I smile as I turn on the TV. "All you do is sleep all day."
The news is on, and I look at the screen. The headline was sprawled across it, the letters big and bold in yellow.
FIFTH MURDER VICTIM FOUND
I listen to the lady on the screen as she describes what happened.
"Yet another homicide victim was found, making it the fifth occurrence in the Winston District," She says, "The perpetrator is still missing, and police have decided to call these deaths the M Murders. The victim this time was a twenty three year old boy by the name of Chase Cross."
"Gosh," I lean back into my couch. "The fifth one? When are they gonna catch this guy?"
The picture headshot of a boy flashes across the screen, and I look at it. His hair was brown and curly, slight freckles dusting his cheeks. His eyes were dark, and I stare at them.
Do I know him?
The news then goes live at the scene of the crime, police lights and people were everywhere, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. I look at the background of the shoot, and it dawns on me.
"That boy!" I point at the screen, realization taking over me and my energy almost sending myself off of the couch. "He was the drunk one I saw on the street!"
Muffin's hair suddenly stands on end, her mouth opening to hiss at something next to me. Her tail flicks with anticipation, showing that she's in the hunt.
What's her problem?
"Yeah that's me." A male voice says from beside me, and I halt my movements. "I wasn't drunk, though."
I slowly turn my head to my right, the dead boy on TV sitting relaxed back into my couch.
His hands were in his pockets, looking as if he was right at home.
There was a blue cloud of shadow and mist around him, showcasing transparent skin. I could see the couch behind him, the pink flower pattern shining through his skin.
He's- He's see-through?!
I jump at my thoughts, adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. My feet take me off the couch in a hurry, my bottom hitting the floor of my living room. Muffin is still hissing, and I stare at him, completely frozen in shock.
He looks over at me as I hit the ground, and tilts his head to the side curiously. His face, skin, hair, and clothing all have a blue tint to it, and we stare at each other in the eyes.
"How," I pant out a question. "How are you here? You're- you're dead!"
His eyes widen, and he jumps up from his seat, pointing his finger at his chest. He seems more shocked than I do.
"You can see me?!"
A/N
This is the first chapter and I hope it's caught your attention! I have the whole book planned out, so it should be updated regularly!
Thank you so much for reading so far!
-Hannah
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Hello, Mr. Ghost
Teen Fiction[COMPLETE] "You- You're alive?!" Stella Moore has a problem. It's not something as simple as picking out what shirt to wear; no, its much more complicated than that. In fact, she can pin point exactly when her problem started: seeing a dying boy on...
