The Ghostmatist | Teen Ink

The Ghostmatist

November 22, 2023
By chaotic-writing-person BRONZE, Košice, Other
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chaotic-writing-person BRONZE, Košice, Other
3 articles 1 photo 3 comments

Author's note:

Hi! I'm a chaotic-writing-person, and I go with she/her. I have been on various writing platforms for a long time, but now I came here. I mostly write fantasy, science fiction, fan fiction and short stories. This is my first work published here at TeenInk.

The author's comments:

So... you've finished the prologue! I know this is probably pretty boring, but I'd appreciate any feedback

On Tuesday the thirteenth of October, I definitely had no plans to change my life. Nor to plunge into a crazy adventure where it was not at all certain how it would end. And I had no plans to end up as the main guest at a funeral.

Instead, my only concern was why the board in front of me was filling up so quickly.

Teacher Andersen is known for the fact that she can write an entire piece of chalk in one lesson. She obviously decided to prove it to us today, which is why I've been covering my ears for over half an hour. It doesn't even stop the squeaky chalk sound from getting into my ears.

The speed with which Mrs. Andersen writes. I have to read slowly - this is the life of a dyslexic whose teacher always forgets to print out his notes. I'm almost always late with class notes afterwards, and old Mrs. Andersen is not worth guessing. She's just... ancient. Maybe she was still building the pyramids: it would be possible.

"I guess that old lady is going to retire," Sofia grunts next to me, and I grin. Everyone knows that Mrs. Andersen should have retired a long time ago. But historically, there are not enough teachers at the school, and she voluntarily decided to continue in teaching.

The director was said to be enthusiastic. We students did not share it with her.

Of course, everyone knows about it - except Sofia West, because she's... weird. She doesn't talk to anyone, but looks down on everyone, as if we are too unimportant to her. She kept looking off into the distance... and apparently she liked sitting next to me in physics.

The bell for the end of class suddenly rings through the class, and I mentally let out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, physics is the last class of the day. My letter-shuffling brain couldn't handle any more formulas. I stretch out my clenched hands and stand up. I really feel somewhat relieved - the stress remains here today, in the classroom after the last lesson.

Someone suddenly screams, and I turn to see who. The teacher runs in my direction, and chaos breaks out everywhere. Confused, I take a few steps back, almost bumping into the bookshelf behind me.

Then I realize why everyone is looking so horrified.

There is a body lying on the chair I just got up from.

My body.

The world around me slows down strangely, and I feel like my brain is full of cotton wool. No, it can't be my body, because I'm standing here...

I open my mouth to say something, but the bubble of peace around me bursts. Everything happens so... fast. A teacher calling a colleague to take my classmates to the cafeteria. Why can't I move? Why am I standing here like a rock, unable to get my brain out of the chaotic swirl of colors and voices that are all around me? Why don't I stop the paramedics who ran into the room, taking my pulse and trying to revive me?

Why are they doing this when I'm standing right behind them? I reach out to tap the nearest doctor on the shoulder, but I freeze. My hand - the hand that is normally completely normal and I never paid too much attention to it - is translucent. Not translucent like glass, but definitely faded. A bit like when someone leaves an old photo in the sun and it loses all color because of it. It's bizarre. Well, not as bizarre as my body lying a few meters away from me, while I study my palm with my gaze.

I blink sharply and look at the rescuers again. They don't see me. They see only the motionless body of a thirteen-year-old girl in a school uniform. I don't even realize what I'm doing until I run to him.

It's definitely me. It's uncomfortable to look at myself from a bird's eye view, and I never thought I could do it. But the fact remains that I am looking at a familiar face following me in the mirrors. Short, messy brown hair, pointed nose, scary half-open empty brown eyes... My stomach suddenly rises and I start to fall backwards. The idea that I should endure a little more time with my body in the same room seems disgusting to me.

The feeling that I am separating from the surrounding world is coming back again. I'm going to force it down this time. So fine - it's probably time to start thinking about what's actually going on here.

I'm no professional, but it looks like I'm obviously dead. I don't know why I don't panic. I should definitely be at least a little hysterical right now.

I look down once more at my faded hands and feet.

Could it be that I'm... a ghost?

The author's comments:

You may have noticed a detail that I made up myself - that ghosts are visible in mirrors. The fact that mirrors attract ghosts in different ways is a fairly used element in fantasy, but I decided to include it here anyway.

And the sequel will probably be added soon.

Being a ghost obviously does not involve hovering above the ground, much less flying. I know, it's silly that the first thing I did after I sort of came to terms with being a ghost was try to fly. However, the ability to hover would very practically solve one of my problems. I am not at all sure what will happen if I bump into something. And I'd rather not even think about what would happen if I bumped into someone.

Ghosts in cheap movies (no, we certainly don't have a box full of them at home and we don't watch them every weekend with our younger siblings) can usually move objects around or talk to non-ghosts. Thinking of them as "alive" still feels... unusual. It's as if I'm clearly admitting that I'm no longer among the living. At least not one hundred percent.

One hundred percent alive people are not faded.

A rather silly thought suddenly pops into my head. Yes, maybe no one sees me like this, but maybe... The gears start turning in my head, and I look around the classroom. The walls are painted an appalling light green, the benches are inscribed with messages from those who sat there before us, and apart from a blackboard, a sink and posters on the walls, there is nothing spectacular. An ordinary physics classroom, but nothing normal will happen today. I step out - can it be called walking if I am immaterial? - towards the yellowed sink, above which a small mirror is hung. That's fine. Those who don't try don't know.

I lean forward and am surprised to see myself. I am there! Defy the laws of physics because I can see my reflection. I make a face at mirror Kim.

I feel too satisfied. You know that feeling when you climb into a tub full of warm water after a hard day, or like when you enter a jacuzzi? This was similar. A hypnotic, intoxicating happiness that came from no one knows where. Why even think about it? Maybe I can forget all this. So what if I'm a ghost? Now everything is OK... I lean even closer to the mirror, and the feeling of happiness only gets stronger. What if I touch it? I lean my head forward, and the tip of my nose approaches the reflecting surface...

Someone's hand lands on my shoulder and pushes me backwards. I don't have time to react from the surprise, and I fall to the ground. The artificial happiness is gone, and instead I see a really pissed off Sofia West face. She puts her hands on her hips, throws her red braid over her shoulders and narrows her eyes angrily. "What did you think?" he glares at me and I have no idea what to say.

How come he sees me? And how come she literally pushed me away from the mirror when I'm literally out of thin air? And what does he do here after school? Questions are piling up in my head, but I don't have time to ask any of them because Sofia continues.

"How did you think of looking in the mirror? You can't even imagine the danger mirrors pose to ghosts!"

"For ghosts," I repeat after her, mentally slapping myself. Why do I have to act like an idiot at the very moment when something is happening? Another question I'm adding to my fictional list of unanswered questions.

,,Exactly. For ghosts," she repeats. "That's what you are, if it didn't click for you."

"Of course it clicked for me! I'm not absolutely stupid," I retort, and stand up.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," Sofia remarks. I manage to keep my mouth shut by force of will. I don't understand why she, but she obviously doesn't have as much chaos in things as I do. And she thinks I'm completely stupid. And in this verbal exchange she said more than in the entire school year combined. These little observations are really useless to me now, so instead I ask, ``What's this supposed to mean?'' It's definitely not an ideal question, and it sounded even dumber than I thought it would. I don't even know why, but I'm starting to feel really awkward in front of Sofia.

Sofia takes a deep breath and starts in an official tone. "You, Kim Wales, died today. Umh, my condolences. Anyway, as you've probably noticed, you're not dead. You're a ghost, which means now we need to get to a... place as soon as possible where they'll explain it all to you and, well, um..." She gets more nervous with each sentence, until finally she just stops and turns red. I've never seen Sofia showing any kind of emotion, so to speak, and seeing her at least as red as her hair is... well, embarrassing.

As embarrassing as the silence that falls between us. For a few seconds that seem like an eternity, we just stand there, drowning in our own embarrassment. I'm grateful in my heart that when you're a ghost you obviously can't deny yourself, and Sofia starts to rock on her tiptoes. But suddenly she stops, and the old familiar impenetrable mask falls on her face. "Let's go. We don't have time. Brace yourself - the next few minutes are probably going to be very weird, and right now you probably have a lot of questions... but I don't have the answers to them. Let's go."

With this not-so-motivating encouragement, she turns on her heel and marches out of the classroom. I hesitate for a moment, but then I go after her. I've long since lost track of what's absolutely crazy, so I could use some explanation.



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