Ghost in My House


Random story which is not yet complete. Part of what made me think of it was this dream I had about a basement room that was white, and everything in the room was white. When I woke up I thought, who would live in that kind of place? I think the dead girl in this story would.


        There is a ghost in my house. Every night I can hear her walking back and forth, sometimes crying, sometimes singing along to music I can't hear. Once there was a terrible screaming that made me scream, too, until my father ran into my room with a baseball bat in one hand and a bottle of sedatives in the other. The baseball bat was in case of an intruder - unlikely. The pills were in case I was just going crazy, which I am. My mother takes the same pills every six hours. You can set your watch by her swallows.
        I may be going crazy, but I am not there yet. The ghost is not imaginary, not some simple delusion or hallucination. I'm going crazy because I'm just not able to deal with the ghost being here.
        The ghost is my sister Sheila. She died about six months ago, in July. On the fourth of July, if you want to be exact. I don't; I like to have some breathing room.
        Weird as it sounds, with Sheila gone, it's as if there's less air in the house to breathe. As if she's only able to produce her manifestations by sucking the air out of me.
        Everyone makes a big deal about Sheila dying because she was twenty years old and "had her whole life ahead of her." It's the kind of phrase that starts to burn you, if you hear about it too often and think about it even more. And I do. I know there's going to be a day soon when I finally just scream that maybe, there was nothing tragic about it. Maybe she died because there was no life ahead of her, because there was no space in the world for her to fit into. Or maybe that if she had lived, that life would have been worse than whatever is happening to her now.

        If I was going to be honest with everybody for a change, I would tell them that Sheila was a ghost for a long time before she died. It's just now that she's invisible.

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