Page 278 of 365: Ghosts (creative writing)



I’ve not written for creatively for a very long time, let’s try that.

It had been a really long day; one of those days that wasn’t really a ‘bad’ day, nothing particularly bad happened but it wasn’t good either. 

I was drained emotionally – I opened the door to my flat (after having a fight with getting my key in the lock), kicking off my shoes by the door, dropping my bag and keys on the kitchen counter and collapsing on the sofa. My eyes felt so heavy.

I had so much I needed to do – I had washing up to do and I needed to put some laundry in and I had to look over my notes for my meetings tomorrow and I was already falling asleep on the sofa.

I curled up, pulling one of the cushions onto the arm of the sofa and letting my eyes droop – I didn’t care any more, I needed sleep.

But then I heard footsteps. They were getting closer. I felt a blanket being draped over me and I shot my hand out to grab whatever burglar was putting a blanket over me (I was very confused). My eyes met someone’s the really shouldn’t have.

“Don’t freak out.”

“You’re dead.”

“I can explain-“

“You- stop it, no.” I mumbled, standing from the sofa and pushing him away – I was deliriously tired. “You’re not real, you died, I’m making this up.” I mumbled, tears stinging my eyes that my imagination could conjure something so vividly painful.

“I’m real, I swear. Well, kind of real. ‘Living dead’ kind of real.” He shrugged – I’d almost forgotten the sound of his voice.

“Stop it.”

He took my hand and interlaced his fingers with mine. “I’m sorry. I died, I died and I felt it but then I was… there, I saw my funeral, I saw you and I couldn’t let you go.”

“Are you kidding me right now? I still can’t figure out if I’m actually going insane or if this is real-“

“How can I convince you I’m real?”

I paused. Staring at the man in front of me. The man I’d seen dead in a hospital bed just six months ago. The man who’s engagement ring still clung to my finger.

“Tell me how you died.” I couldn’t help but cry.

“I crashed my motorbike. Six car pile up, a least that’s what they said at the funeral.”

“What’s it like? Dying?” 

“It- I didn’t die straight away. I crashed and then my body was broken, but my consciousness hadn’t faded yet. I knew I was going to die but… it was like falling asleep. And I woke up.”

I bit my lip. He looked just like he did the morning I kissed him goodbye before I left for work. “So you’re what, a ghost?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, squeezing my hand.

“But you’re dead.” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You’re the only one I’ve been able to talk to so far; the only one I can touch.” He leant his forehead on mine, taking deep breaths as if he was as confused as I was.

“Wait,” I pulled away, looking back at the sofa.

My body was still there.

I was really in the mood to write something supernatural but I (apparently) can’t not write romance. I really like this, maybe I’ll expand and work on it someday. Probably not. I hope you enjoy it too!

Thank you for reading,

Sophie xx

That’s where you’ll find me:
Snapchat: @SophieALuckett

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