Yet another visit to my childhood, my readers. I stumbled across a beautiful story that I owe credit to my year ten R.E lesson. The strange thing is, I do not know if it is a well written piece. I am probably biased by thinking that of course it is not good, I wrote it three years ago. Conversely, I could say that it was so good. Lets see what you think, shall we?
I’m Leslie. As I am a ghost, being able to write this journal is beyond me but let’s just go with it.
This situation is serious but, in a sense, it’s completely ridiculous. To be honest, I despise of it here. The atmosphere, it’s polluted. I can hardly see my breath in the brisk, winter air. It’s cold, I’m cold. If it were possible for me to have shivers now, they would be infinite. The ghosts are thousands of years old, alike to me. I miss being human. With the feel of warm skin even in the coldest nights, I just remember being born into a world like no other. I’m homesick. Home is where my heart was set in stone, and I was never alone.
What is the “real world”? I remember my parents talking about it, with their warm houses with real beds to sleep in. Me? I used to sleep under a palm leaf with a rock for a pillow. This is why I remember shivering so vividly, my arms always went numb out in the open. In a way, I miss living there with humans. Ghosts are spookily unkind and heartless and they look through me as if I weren’t there in the first place. I know, my hair is white and all in disarray and yes, it must look uncanny floating around without a body; they are exactly the same, so why are they complaining? Also, I have no idea why these creatures got left with the rare spiritual qualities. I thought they were supposed to be for the ones who obeyed God in all his forms, they are ungrateful for their immortal soul as a ghost. I know it’s not how the afterlife was planned, I know that ghosts are imaginary, and I am truly convinced this is a nightmare and I will wake up back with my only friend – the palm leaf.
This castle is unnerving. For some reason, even though I hear no talking, I hear my name echo around. “Leslie…Leslie…” I hear, it’s as if I’m famous and paparazzi are looking for me. As well as being everything I dislike, I am an elder. It just tips me over the edge with fury, if I were human, my face wouldn’t be visibly accessible to anyone due to the millions of wrinkles covering it. I don’t know why but I helped build this castle. I think the colour scheme was made to represent what we ghosts are like – grey walls, grey stairs, grey everything. Even my palm leaf throw is grey, I made it to remind me of being human but no, it’s like I am colour blind. My world is now black and white; when I go and tread carefully upon the clouds outside, I see that the sea down below is black. My vision must be impaired, the sea is blue and my pen also says it’s blue on the side of it, as well, but it is writing in black.
We rarely have visitors up here. Well, I do understand. I know that finding shoes that make you jump high enough to get up here is infrequent, poor humans, not being able to venture out to see us. But, I would be amazed that they even knew we were up here, they have no such beliefs of ghosts – which is something I have in common with them. They will just have to wait for the great gift of death to lift them up here, I hope they aren’t as unlucky as I was to come up here.
Earlier on today the rest of the elders and I had a long, draining discussion. They’re so ridiculous. One of them had a rant about being “unloved” by the humans. I mean, the humans don’t even know we’re here so how are they supposed to love us or long to be like/with us? I kind of zoned out for a while whilst the rest of them deliberated something, it was the most genuinely boring conversation to be a part of. Well, it was until I heard my name be brought up:
“Leslie should go. He has courage, integrity, and…” said a floating blonde head of hair amongst the group. I saw her eyelashes gesture towards me fiddling with my thumbs. I looked up. “You’re happy to become human again aren’t you, Leslie?” I jumped out of my skin – excuse the irony. It’s indescribable the shock I was under, it was terrifying. I mean, I’d much prefer to be a human to a ghost, but I’d rather commit suicide than become human again.
“Where’d you get that idea from?” I queried. I heard a thousand mumbles, is it really that scandalous that I even asked? I waited a little while to get a civilised answer; before I only got a “jeez” a couple of times and I heard a “seriously?!” once as well – I felt very much exiled from the discussion immediately. But when I finally got a response it was:
“You are the only one of us who nobody likes…I mean, who can interact with humans”. She got nudged by her partner after the “nobody likes you” part, which made her pause. I felt incredibly loved, I mean, everybody loves being told that nobody likes you. But, I don’t understand. When I was a human, I was treated as a prince. It was as if, my soul was a divine representation of Jesus – I swear I even walked on water like he did, although that may have been a dream.
I may consider going down in human form. I miss being able to wake up seeing my reflection in the sea, with pure, oceanic eyes and skin that actually shaped my skeleton. To look like my old self would be a miracle in itself. I would like to be able to retain my fully evolved spirit though, being more powerful than everybody else sounds like a task I’d enjoy. The blonde who seemed to dislike me the most started jogging down the stairs with her partner, and I heard something from her lips that completely threw me.
“I think they’d appreciate a woman figure the most. I should know, I got all the male attention whilst down on earth, they couldn’t keep their hands off. That’s what’ll work this time. Leslie?” she shouted across to me, “you’ll need to transform into woman form.” My anger grew. Even though I love the other gender, that doesn’t mean I want to become a crazy psychopath like herself just to be respected by humans. I resulted in just giving her a look as if she was dirt. I did this by fluttering my unbearably short eyelashes in her direction rapidly so she got the message that her plan was nothing but an attempt to get everybody to praise her.
“You’re out of your mind.” I replied to her absurd remark. “You can’t seriously want me to be bizarrely alike to the she-devil that is you?” She looked at me like she wanted to turn me to stone, but I just smirked. She replied to me by saying “just think about it. Are you for women’s rights?” I just looked at her as if she was talking another language “just act like you’re a heroine! I mean, we all think of you as being a heroic…somebody, just show off that spark!” I laughed at her attempt to make me feel better about nobody liking me, I literally shook that insult off my shoulder in a half hour. “Now, you can take back you’re comment about me being like the devil. I have never worn red – other than lipstick – in any of my lives. I’m the opposite of the devil, I’m like…an angel!” I laughed again. I never saw her halo spring from her floating wig for hair.
To be continued. Look out for Part II.