Page 5 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

"How did she die?" one of the kids asks in a small voice.

"She was murdered," the boy goes on. "Ripped to shreds by a werewolf."

I shudder at the thought and feel a little nauseous. I don't actually know how I died, or what happened immediately after. I hope Jeremiah Holland didn't rip me to shreds, but I suppose it's possible. I didn't wake up until decades after his trial and execution, so I don't know what evidence was presented. By the time I learned to manipulate books and such, any articles on the trial were long gone.

The kids have all lined up along the front windows of The Book Coven, their little noses pressed to the glass as they try to see inside.

"Hey!" The children and I all whirl around to see Detective Dawson in his black car, the window rolled down. He bangs his gloved hand on the outside of the door. "What are you kids doing?"

"Nothing, Detective," the kids all say in unison.

"Yeah? Looks like you're causing trouble to me."

I can't help but smile. It is clear he is not really mad, he is just trying to scare them.

"We aren't, Officer, promise," a girl says stepping forward.

"Yeah," a boy says. "We were just playing when...when..." He looks around for help.

"When we thought we saw the ghost," another kid says.

"A ghost?" Officer Dawsons asks, incredulous.

The children all start talking at once, all claiming to have seen or heard the ghost.

"Alright, alright," he says, holding up his hand. "Well, if there is a ghost out here, you don't need to be messing with it. Why don't all of you just skedaddle on home, okay?"

The children all mutter their own versions of "yes, sir" or "thank you, sir" as they grab any gear they dropped and run to wherever they are actually supposed to be.

Officer Dawson chuckles to himself and then lets out an audible sigh. He looks at me, and my stomach flips. It takes me a moment to realize he isn't looking at me, but through me, to the shop. But as I turn my head to follow his gaze, I see that the painting of me is visible in the dim light from the street lamps. Maybe he is looking at me...in a way. No. I shake my head. He isn't looking at me. Why am I being so stupid? I look back at Officer Dawson just as he is rolling his window up and driving off. Once again, I am alone.

I look up at the night sky. It's a clear night, but with all the street lamps and lights from homes and businesses, the stars are barely visible. I remember a time when, as soon as the sun started to set, the stars would shine brightly and twinkle all night. All you had to do was step out onto your front porch to appreciate them. Now, if I want to see stars, I have to venture way out into the woods. The moon, however, shines brightly.

"I wish I wasn't alone," I whisper to whatever deity or spirit might be listening. I don't know why I say it. I have prayed many, many times during my existence as a ghost to be released from this purgatory, but nothing has ever changed.

I walk back to the shop and sit in my chair, my hands in my lap. My tea has gone cold and the desire to read seems to have fled me. I lean back, just to sit and stew in my misery when I hear...something. A rumbling sound, like a very distant train. But Mystic Cove doesn't have a train, not anymore. Then, it begins to snow. Inside? No. I lift my hands to get a better look and realize that I'm surrounded by little specks of light. I look up and see that I am standing in a shaft of light, and the light is getting brighter.

Is this it? I wonder. Is this the light at the end of the tunnel? Am I being called home, finally?

The light flashes so brightly, it blinds me. I can't help but scream out as I feel myself being picked up and moved. Everything goes black and I think, Not again. I can't have died again.

* * *

I gasp. And it takes me a moment to realize that I have gasped. I haven't breathed in over two hundred years. At least, not in the way I did when I was alive. It seems as though my chest rises and falls of its own accord, but I'm not actually breathing. I don't feel air filling my lungs or hear the sound of y breath in my ears. At least...I didn't until now. I take in another breath and my heart races at the sound, at the sensation of it. I then freeze and realize--I felt my heart beat! I don't dare move as I focus on the gentle rhythmic thumping in my chest, in my ears.

I slowly open my eyes and all I see is darkness at first. Again, this is another first. Ever since I died, I could see in the dark. Not the same as in daylight, but as if everything was illuminated by moonlight instead of sunlight. The world at night was bathed in a soft, blue glow. But no longer. My eyes slowly adjust, and I can see the length of my arm. I realize I'm lying on the ground. The ground, I can feel it. I feel the crunchy, damp autumn leaves that fell and were left to rot on the forest floor. I roll my hand over and bend my fingers into the moist dirt. I can smell the wet earth, the snow. I can smell!

I turn my neck and look back up to the sky. I can see it through the spindly arms of leafless winter trees. I can see the stars. They are so beautiful, I want to weep. I put my hand to my chest to feel my heartbeat. I lick my finger to feel the warm wetness. I run my hands down my face. I laugh and hear the sound in my ears.

I'm alive.

I'm alive!

Was it all some terrible nightmare? Can dreams truly be that vivid, that detailed? I sit up and look around, but all I see are trees. I am somewhere deep in the woods. Are they the woods near mystic cove? I don't know. I don't recognize anything. I could be anywhere.

I try to sit up and feel woozy as the blood rushes from my head. I wait a moment before trying to stand. It is all so strange to me. The feeling of moving, of standing. When I was a ghost, I was aware of myself, but had no real sensation of my body. It was as if I was weightless. Now, I can feel my weight holding me down, pressing me into the earth.

I look around, trying to get some sort of bearing, some indication of which way I should go. I shiver and rub my arms. I let out a small laugh. I am cold! I have never been so grateful to be cold! It is another indication to me that I am truly alive. The moon and stars provide some light as I let my eyes focus on the trees around me. Finally, I think I see a break in the trees, a clearing of some sort. I step forward, heating the leaves crinkle under my shoes. I take another step and almost slip on a wet patch of snow that had started to melt but is now freezing under the cold night air. Slowly and surely, I make my way through the trees.

---