It all happened so fast.
One moment, you were crossing the street, obediently obeying all the traffic laws just as your parents told you to, and the next? The glaring headlights of a bright blue car — in broad daylight — became bigger as roots seemed to grow out of your feet and into the ground. There was a slight ringing in your ears, and your vision blacked out for a second, but when you opened your eyes again, the swerving car was gone. The road you were on was car-free.
Everything else remained in the same condition as it was. The lady near the newsstand was still complaining about the train, the coffee shop was buzzing with customers and the glass pane on the window of the comic book store was still stained from the latest paint job.
Scratching your head, you continued making your way home. Not much of a big deal.
Yet it was a big deal the moment you set foot into your house.
Entering your home, you shut the door behind you and called out for your mum. No reply came back.
"Mum?"
A whimper came from your room, followed by quiet sobs.
Suddenly feeling lighter, you headed towards your room, only to find the door slightly open. You pushed it opened with minimum strength, and there was your mother, on your bed, with tears flowing down her cheeks like a leaky tap.
As your room door usually creaked, your mother looked up at the sound of it moving. You waved, but she returned to the photograph in her hands, with no sign of improvement in her emotional state. That was a picture of your family when everyone was younger, running around in the fields as you chased the bubbles your dad was blowing. Sitting down beside her, you muttered, "Hey Mum, it's okay."
As you did, you placed your hand on her shoulders, except it didn't stay put. It went right through her.
Startled, you drew your hand back immediately and tried again, and again, and again. It all led to the same results. Somehow, you couldn't touch her anymore. Looking down at your hands, you realised how you could...see through them. Eyes widening, you dashed out of the room and leaned against the bathroom door. You stared at your hands again, and then your legs. You could see through yourself, every part of yourself, and that was when you started to shake with fear.
Without warning, your entire body phased through the bathroom door, leaving you to fall onto the cold hard tiles. You started to breathe faster as you stood up, finding yourself face-to-face in the mirror. There wasn't a reflection, and your hands and feet started to turn cold.
You ran.
Away from your home, away from the street and to anywhere, hoping that someone could see you. You ran through walls and yelled and shouted and screamed and cried, in front of some people's faces even, yet none of them heard or saw you, or even felt your presence. They continued with what they were doing, chattering animatedly about the latest soccer news or work or relationships, but they just didn't notice you. You had thought that maybe it was just like the movie, "Coco", but no dog took notice of you.
You didn't know what to do, and that was when the voice came.
"Hello there, (Y/N)."
It came from everywhere, like Dolby Surround 7.1 in the cinema.
In a timid voice, you asked, your entire body trembling, "What's happening?"
The voice sighed, "It's a phrase."
"Don't pun with me," you felt a mixture of fear and anger boil inside of you, "No one can see or hear me and I can walk through things, so unless I'm becoming a superhero, you better give it to me straight."
