The Ghosting

"H-How long have you been standing there?"

The pale figure behind the petite woman visibly startled, eyes widening. A shocked silence lingered in the air for a few moments before a shaky voice whispered, "Y-You can... You can see me?"

The woman's eyes, red and puffy from crying, narrowed slightly as she responded, with a slight tilt of her head, "Of course I can. I don't recognize you, though, so I do wonder why you're here. At a church. For the funeral of a person I doubt you know. Nearly an hour after it ended."

"I... I didn't think anyone could see me," she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. Nearly unintelligible, she continued, "How can she see me if she's still alive?"

"Of course I'm alive!" she exclaimed, before adding sadly, "This wasn't my funeral after all." She blinked away the intruding thoughts before looking up to make eye contact with the taller woman and continuing, "Were you a friend of his? I don't believe we've met if you were. I'm Lillian Andrews, but call me Lilly. I was Neal's wife." She extended her hand towards the other woman.

The taller of the two stared at the offered hand with amusement before reaching out to grab the hand. Lilly watched in shock as the hand slid through hers. Jerking her hand back, she stammered, "Wha- How did you- Why did that happen? This... this doesn't make any sense."

Laughing at her confusion, she answered, "It's 'cause I'm dead. That's also why I was so surprised that you could see me. Most of the living can't, at least not without me making myself visible on purpose, so I don't often get the chance to talk to someone like you. It's actually really good that you can see and hear me becau-"

"Good? How is this good? And how are you dead? Are you a ghost or something? Can ghosts even be in churches? They're consecrated ground and all that. You haven't even told me your name, so why should I believe anything you say?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm a ghost, and yes, we can be in churches. My name is Claire. I was about to tell you how it's good before I was so rudely interrupted. Maybe let me finish next time. Anyways, it's good because this makes it so much easier for me to help you find out what happened to your husband."

"But I already know what happened to him."

"You can't tell me that you actually believe he jumped off that bridge. There was no note, absolutely no signs of depression, and you live nowhere near that bridge. Why would he go so far away when there were plenty of other bridges closer to your house. And how did he get there? His car was still sitting in your driveway, and there was no footage of him on any public transportation."

"So what're you saying? That it wasn't suicide?" she questions, eyes filling up with tears.

"Are you saying that thought hasn't crossed your mind?"

Lilly glanced away from Claire, tears now spilling out. "I-I did think the circumstances were a bit su-suspicious, but I didn't s-say anything because then I'd be the cra-crazy conspiracy theorist widow," she slowly stammered out.

Satisfied with the answer she received, Claire said, "And I'm here to help you gather evidence to prove that you're right and not, as you put it, a craz-"

A loud cracking noise rang through the sanctuary, cutting off Claire, though the sound seemed to have originated from somewhere beyond the open sanctuary doors. Both of the women's heads turned towards the doors with varying degrees of speed. Claire's eyes widened as she whispered to Lilly, "We have to go. Now."

"But-"

"Please don't argue. We can't stay here. It isn't safe anymore. I'll explain when we get somewhere safer," she begged, pleading with her eyes. She gestured towards a back door. "We'll go that way. We need to get out of here as fast as possible and that's the quickest way." She began to run towards the door, the sound of her footsteps nonexistent. "Come on! Hurry!"