" I See Dead People" by Aidan C

            I am a young, working class woman, currently studying to get a college degree in Aeronautical Engineering. Sounds complicated, right? That is what I would have said a mere two days ago, all before my life went downhill. I lived in a one bedroom apartment, I had no roommates–the only people who would visit were family & friends. One night, I was cooking myself a meal in the evening, when I heard a click at the door, before it suddenly swung open. My parents were out of town, I had not invited any friends over as it was a weekday. I was startled, and cautiously made my way to the front of my apartment, kitchen knife in hand for safety. When I approached the door, it was wide open. I could feel the cold breeze on my body, but no one was there. Was it the wind? It could not have been; the wind had not been harsh that night. That was when a man came from behind, grabbed me, and locked me in a chokehold. I was gasping for air, and my heart was racing. I clutched the kitchen knife which the man had not accounted for, and sliced his arm open. He let go of me in a fit of rage and pain. He yelled as blood dripped and seeped into the cracks of the floorboards.

Crash! Bang!
The man raced around the house, running into walls, knocking over furniture, attempting to find something to treat the open wound. While doing so, I noticed he grabbed a fork to attack me with. Not wanting to prolong the confrontation, I sprinted toward him and sent the knife into his gut. With a shocked grunt of pain, he slid down the wall onto the floor and began bleeding out. Realizing what I had done, I dropped the knife and screamed in terror upon the sight of the dying man. I was reluctant to call 9-1-1, as I wanted to help him, but did not want to get arrested myself. Soon I gave in to my worries and dialed the police, attempting to stay calm as the man gagged, holding on to the last bits of life he had remaining.

            Several minutes later, officers arrived on the scene and took me away. The man had already passed away. I had failed to help him, and felt I should be punished. My memories from that point were blurred, until they took me into a private room for questioning. My father told me that if anything were to happen and I ended up in the hands of the law, I needed a lawyer. I was conscious of the fact that the decisions I made up to this point were not very logical, and instead made out of fear alone. I knew it was not the right call to suck up to the man who was interviewing me at the other end of the table, but I felt that I needed to tell the truth, if anything, for the man I killed–and so I did. They let me go later that night–lucky me–but I had to stay with a friend. I could not go back to my apartment, not until the investigators were finished with their work. An officer dropped me off in front of my friend’s residence and assured me that everything would be alright. It was not alright. Nothing was okay–I had a gut-wrenching feeling deep within me, that I felt would never leave me until the day I die. As I sat there in front of the home for a moment, I came to realize that such feeling was not for the man I murdered out of self defense, but for something more. The night breeze began to pick up, forcing me out of my daze. It startled me, as I looked around. I felt as if someone was attempting to sweep me off my feet, or, at least, there was a sensation of someone breathing down the back of my neck. I could not tell, nor distinguish the feelings. I was overwhelmed. I quickly ran up to the door of the home and repeatedly knocked until my friend answered and brought me to safety.

            I remained in the home for most of the duration of the following day, it had already been well into the evening before I even thought about leaving for the outdoors. I stared out the window for a while, before noticing something peculiar behind a neighbor’s fence. I squinted, and managed to make out a face, presumably belonging to a tall figure that was hidden behind the wood. I felt a sudden urge to approach it, as if it was calling me. It was not out of curiosity, though rather a feeling I cannot explain, even now. I called out to my friend that I was going out for a walk, and made my way across the street toward the figure, if not for looking away for even a moment to itch my hip. It disappeared. I was both confused and gravely disappointed. I looked around, as far as the streetlamps would let me see. I saw nothing. For some reason, I failed to note the fact that I felt obligated to approach the figure in the first place, and instead simply returned to where I was previously. As I approached the door, the breeze kicked up once more, and this time, it howled. I was quite disturbed, but decided to investigate. At this point, it had been the second instance of the wind randomly picking around me. Though, something that caught my attention was the fact that it was making so much noise despite not being very powerful. Then, I realized that the howling was, in fact, not the wind, but instead was sourced from that same “thing” I saw earlier. It sprinted toward me, and not wanting to lead it into the house, I ran in the opposite direction, screaming. I knew of a church nearby that I used to attend with my parents when I was younger, and opted to hide there. As I approached the chapel, I began to spot more strange creatures, who seemed to pay no mind to me. Strange and scary sights all the same.

            I barged into the house of worship and slammed shut the large wooden doors behind me, taking a breath. The church was quiet and dimly lit with candles. It was jarring, experiencing such commotion outside only to find true peace within the one place you would expect. My footsteps echoed as I made my way to the other end of the building.

“Who goes there? Why, here, at such an hour? Does one seek guidance? Forgiveness, perhaps?”

I recognized the voice. A soothing warmth came over me as soon as I was called. A robed man emerged from a dark corner of the hall.

“Father Mateo!”
“Ay, mi hija! Been quite a while, has it not? What has been troubling you?”

I told him everything, from the murder, to the creature that chased me all the way here. I was expecting him to question me further, but he understood. He responded as if he had dealt with such a thing countless times before. Slow knocks echoed through the hall, as our attention turned to the large wooden doors. Mateo called out.

“Come in, if you must! Though, you may not find this place welcoming to your kind.”

The doors barged open, revealing the same dark creature that had been following me all this time. The doors slammed shut behind it, as it gradually made its way down the hall, toward me. Mateo, with such swiftness, grabbed an unlit candle and chucked it at the thing, bouncing off of its dark skin and splatting on the concrete floor. Still, the creature paid no mind to Mateo.

“What was that?”
I questioned, out of curiosity for his methods.
“–Confirming my suspicion that this demon can, indeed, interact with our world. With that being said, I advise you to take cover behind me, my dear.”

I did as he said, shuffling behind him, as he bent over and searched within an open cabinet inside the podium which he would preach. To my surprise, he did not take out a scripture, or even a cross, no–he grabbed a shotgun. I was overwhelmed with fear and confusion, as I expressed such with random, nonsensical noises.

“Cover your ears. What I am about to do has not been approved by the Vatican.”

He aimed and fired, striking the creature right in the dome, as it flopped over and sunk into the floor, appearing as a dark, sludgy mess. From that point forward, I regularly visited Father Mateo. I still see those “demons” to this day, but none pay mind to me. I have begun studying them, as they come in all shapes and sizes. This was not the life I was expecting, but I am glad it all turned out okay.