Ghosts of a Memory

Ghost boy

His eyes widened with surprise and panic as he saw her staring at him through the glass of the sliding doors separating the balcony from her bedroom. 

What the hell?! Was Clara's first reaction. 

She had not moved from her spot at her bedroom doorway. She was frozen with fear and amazement as she continued to stare at the boy. She was aware that she was gaping slightly, but she couldn't help it nor did she care.

The boy smiled sheepishly as he raised his hand in greeting. "Hi....?" He mouthed from the other side of the glass.

Who the hell is this dude?! Clara was screaming inwardly. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. She could feel beads of cold sweat begin to form on her neck.

Suddenly, the boy stepped forward. His left foot penetrated through the glass door with ease. Then he extended his right foot, which also slipped through the glass as though it was made of air. Soon his whole body had entered Clara's room.

Clara took a step back in surprise and fear. What the f-

"Calm down, I won't hurt you. I promise." He spoke in a calm, gentle tone. 

That's what they all say. Clara thought, unwilling to let her guard down in the presence of this extraordinary stranger. 

"I can hear you, you know." The boy raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms. 

Huh? 

"I can hear, or read, your thoughts. I can penetrate your mind to gain access to everything that you're thinking about." He smirked proudly. 

What an idiot. Clara thought, disbelieving towards him. 

"It's not very nice to insult someone in front of them," he said. He looked offended but Clara was sure she could detect the hint of a smile on his lips.  "To me, everything you think of is the equivalent of saying them out loud."

That's an invasion of privacy.

"It's not like I can help it anyway." He shrugged. 

Who, or what, the hell are you?! Clara was beginning to feel uneasy. 

"Evan Jones. Please to meet you." He gave her a shallow bow. 

You're not.... Human, are you?

Evan's lips curved into a frown. "I was, but not anymore. Now I'm just a spirit without a body. A ghost, if you will."

He spoke casually, like it didn't bother him that he was dead. But Clara noted the slight pain in his voice, the sadness in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as if a huge weight was placed on his back. 

Nonetheless, she shook her head in disbelief. There was no way he was a ghost. This must be a prank of some sort. Or maybe she was hallucinating. Was it an after-effect of being in a coma? 

"I know you don't believe me. I knew you wouldn't, and I don't blame you. It's not everyday you meet a boy claiming to be a ghost."

He held out his hand. "Maybe I can change your mind?" 

Clara stared at it. 

"Go on, touch my hand." He urged. 

Afraid but curious, she stepped forward and extended her hand. The tips of her fingers penetrated through his. She extended her hand further, trying to grasp his palm in hers but to no avail. 

The skin of her palm was clearly visible through his translucent one, but hers was a shade darker due to the fact that his faintly beige-colored skin layered on top of hers and merged the colors of both their skins into one.