this is a short story that I may turn in to a longer story one day.
Ghost train A girl who can see the spirits who have left the world. She can't speak to them. She can't help them move on unless she steps into their shoes and feels the pain of how they died. She must do this at least once a day or she becomes a spirit. Each morning I wake up. The spirits are all around me, begging and pleading, to go to a better place. As they stand there, I wonder what pain they are feeling; Until I let them pass through me. I know some have been here long enough that the pain has become numb to them, while others are fresh and sharp pain. Sometimes I get the chance to hear their stories; who they were, how they died. Ouija boards can work with some, they can’t hear me but we take turns spelling out things. I can’t see how they died and I can't see any wounds; I feel the pain. As it flows through me I can occasionally figure out what happened. Once a day I have to let someone through, if I don't I’ll get sick, and by midnight I fade into one of them. I'm not the only one of me out there. There are others; while I have never met one alive, I know they exist. I have felt several come through me. I always wonder if it was the pain or fear that made them give up. It's been years and every time I still beg the pain to stop. It only hurts for a minute or two, yet the memories stick with me. I know I could stop the pain at any time. The thought that keeps me moving forwards, keeps me fighting through each spirit, is that one of these spirits is waiting to reunite with its loved ones and I pray that when I become one someone will stay long enough to let me pass, to be with all I’ve lost. I try to pick those who have been waiting for the longest. I don’t intend to get to know them but I like to hear stories of who they were, who they wanted to be, any regrets they had about their lives. I wish I could be like the girl from that ghost whisper tv show and converse with them in a normal way. The pain reminds me to try my best and live with no regrets. Cheesy, I know but it's true. When you feel over 365 deaths a year you tend to find beauty in simple things. It began on the night of my 17th birthday, I know, most fairy tales say 16 or maybe 18 others start at puberty. We start at 17 and it ends when we end. Life is hard when you randomly yell in pain for two minutes. It's been easy to keep it a secret. Especially after I got my license. I would drive into a field and allow a spirit to pass there. As I got older it became harder to escape to the field before midnight; I began doing it at street lights with loud music. Sometimes in my basement, on the rare occasion I was home alone. As life went on I finally found love, got married and had children. I travelled the world and dove into the most beautiful waters of the sea. I grew old, watched as my eldest was forced to endure the pain that I had. I explained to her the best way to do things and the easiest. When her father died she took on the burden of relieving his spirit. I had never asked her too, but she had said she didn’t want me to relieve the pain of losing him. By the time it was my turn to say goodbye I had the honour of seeing my children grow into amazing adults, fall in love, and become stronger people because of their unique ability.
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