GIRL MEETS GHOST by EIC Training PHL

Girl Meets Ghost DANIEL REUBEN BANTA

NWP L I T E 1

NWP LITE: An Imprint of the Neo-Writers Project PHL Lipa City, Batangas, Philippines 4217 https://neowritersphl.wordpress.com https://eictrainingconsultancy.com Girl Meets Ghost Taken from Girl Meets Ghost and Other Stories Copyright 2018 © Daniel Reuben Banta Edited by Carlo Venson B Peña

All rights reserved. No part of this compilation may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner or EIC Training & Consultancy Services.

ePublished in the Philippines Layout & Design by Carlo Venson Peña

Girl Meets Ghost

hen I woke up on a hospital bed, I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t remember anything except lying on a cold, rough surface. I could only see lightsâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; white, red, yellow. My vision was blurry and the voices were static. A cloud of purple gas drifted toward me and I felt like my mind was being sucked by a vacuum cleaner. Then, blackness swallowed everything, like how ink floods a piece of paper. Marisse Woods was the name my parents gave me when I woke up from amnesia. I was 14 then. The teary-eyed couple who stood at the foot of the hospital bed spoke the name, with their shaky voices. My past memories of friends appeared once again as they introduced themselves, one by one, while flanking the edges of my bed. Days later, at home, everything seemed to slowly go back to how they used to. My parents also showed me pictures from my childhood, and a few from the most recent family ocassions. The latest picture was me in front of an amusement park in a moonlit summer night. I had short grayish-black hair and was wearing a pastel blue shirt, a turquoise skirt, pink striped socks and pink rubber shoes. I silently cringed when I saw the picture. This was the person who was supposedly me, and I felt obliged to copy her outfit. Everyone kept saying I was me again, and it was like I did not even had the amnesia. With this, I thought I felt contented, and so I continued the life I once

supposedly forgot. Six months had passed and I lived my life as normally as I thought I used to, before my amnesia. I was waking up, like usual...going to school like usual...hanging out my my friends like usual...and taking the graveyard shortcut to my house, like usual. Whenever I walked from school to my house, I always took the shortcut through the graveyard, instead of going around ten blocks. I have never really believed in ghosts although I also did believe that ghosts were harmless. The spirits in the movies are just exaggerated, I would scuff, so I never really feared that an angry spirit would just casually haunt me–flicking the light switches, possessing people, and flipping tables–because I also believed that they did not have the power to do such things. Honestly, I was more concerned about my colorful clothes, and the pink shoes that got mud splashed all over it all the time. +++ The sky was gray all over Gloomsdale today. I checked my phone from my satchel–4:00 pm. Gosh! Everything’s too dim for this time of day. As I walked through the huge open black gates attached to mighty pillars where smooth stone Gargoyles stood atop the columns, those pairs of aggressive eyes were locked onto mine, and were like telling me telepathically, “You’re not supposed to be here.” I could hear their deep voices inside my head but I was firm with my decision: I wanted to go home early and lie on my soft, comfy bed, and sleep for a few more hours. I passed the gate and dared not to look back, although I could still feel the cold stares of the stone creatures. I heard them say, “You will regret this.” But I knew for a fact that it was all in my head. I shrugged it all off and continued walking. The chilling wind blew, my short black hair swayed along with it and a squadron of brown dry leaves ran past me in a hurry. I shivered, slowly realising what I needed to regret, by coming here.

“I knew I should’ve worn a jacket,” I whispered in regret. I continued walking down on the narrow gravel road. The graveyard was infested with tombstones and mausoleums of every shape and size. Still, there were some greenery around, like a few maple trees and oak, and the moist soil was carpeted with blades of grass. This grass was kept two inches long, but it seemed to absorb the gray paint of the nitches, and it donned a slightly pale-green tint. Each step I took made a cracking sound, like when bones broke. With each crack! I would avert my eyes on another tombstone, and read names the likes of Andromendea, Felixander, Sandralene, and Virgilunacriss. The number of unusual names grew more frequently, until I was too tired to read their names and managed to keep my eyes on the gravel path in front of me. In the middle of the graveyard, however, I saw that one tree.Since the last time I took this shortcut though, I could swear I had never seen anything like this tree before. It was odd, since the tree seemed planted on the gravel road but its branches were healthy with leaves–the greenest I’d seen so far in this graveyard–so much so that they seemed to radiate with life. I approached the strange tree with caution but what was behind the tree was something more peculiar than the tree itself. There is a tombstone under a long patch of grass behind the tree. Baffled and surprised, I had to make sure I was not dreaming. I blinked thrice and rubbed my eyes a few times, but when I opened them, yet another mystery was right before my eyes: there was someone sitting on the tombstone, his back toward me gazing, and him gazing toward the distance. I decided to approach him. In my curiosity, I tapped his shoulder–and in that millisecond that I touched his shoulder–I knew I should’ve run but it was too late: the person decided to face his interrupter. His eyes met mine–his with a surprised look. To me, it seemed his eyes were a pair of blue pools of hundreds of swirling souls (who knows, maybe my ancestor was one of those forsaken souls). I could feel my soul leaving my body, and I found myself trapped in those blue eyes.

The blue glow felt like a warm fire on a winter day–soothing, healing, and melting. That pair of eyes gave out life and warmth for my own cold, gray eyes. I was slowly slipping away and I didn’t mind giving in. It took me two snaps to take me back to reality, and another second to realize the person’s white fingers directly snapping at my unconscious stare. “Miss, are you alright?” he said, sounding concerned. He was wearing a blue bonnet over his head, a red-and-black checkered collared shirt over another yellow shirt, some ripped black jeans, and blue sneakers. I had the audacity to tilt my head to confirm that the brand was Converse. I took another look at his face, and I knew he wasn’t like any other normal boy I’ve seen before. I didn’t notice his hand earlier, but the rest of his skin was creamy white and translucent and his hair were like clumps of melted candlewax that decided to sprout from his frontal lobe, which were loosely hidden by his bonnet. This was a ghost, I thought. His translucent complexion and unnatural eyes said so. Despite my belief that ghosts were harmless, I wasn’t actually sure about that, since I’ve seen a ghost in real life. But there was a ghost right in front of me now, waving his ghostly hand over my face. My faith on harmless ghosts was about to be tested. In a shaky voice, I said, “Good afternoon! Howdy’ do?” All the while, I kept asking myself, ‘What the hell was I doing?’ “Eh, I’m good. Fine weather today, isn’t it?” I had no idea of whether he was humoring me or was being sarcastic but I gave out a grin anyway. He then turned to watch the scenery again, and now had pointed a finger northwest of him. “Look at that guy hanging under that tree...it’s very unusual to commit suicide in a graveyard,” he said dryly. I stared at where he pointed and saw a person hanging by his neck: his head had turned blue, his skin was gray and decomposing, his eyes wide open and lifeless, and his mouth was agape. I was too focused on the ghost that I did not see the horrid sight earlier. I found myself letting out a terrified scream, and I started running as fast as I could, away from that place.

Fearing that the ghost might be following me, I looked back just to see if the ghost was still in the same tombstone I left him. he was, but now his arms were casually resting on his sides. I kept running with the wind and the crisp brown leaves carried by it; the crunch of the mix of gravel and dried leaves was deafening and I was leaving a trail of tears along the way. The sight of the exit shone through my blurred vision–it was an identical gate as the entrance, with the same stone imps that were laughing at me, and whose voices were getting louder by the minute; their rising pitch got higher the nearer I got to the exit. My shoes’ loud thumps on the concrete cancelled out all noise, even halting the howling wind in my ears. I took ten panicky breaths and one deep one, and then wiped away my tears. I took one final look on the stone gargoyles, and I thought I heard them say, We told you so… fading into silence. When I finally got home, I closed the door and collapsed my body over the couch. My mom was doing her cooking then, and after whipping her long red hair, she set her wide-eyed worried look and she said, “Marisse, honey, what’s the matter? You look like you were possessed by a ghost.” “Actually mom, I saw one.” “No, I mean take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s a mess!” I got up from the couch and ran to the nearest mirror. My mom was right though: my once beautiful short grayish-black hair became the aftermath of a hurricane. My clothes were all dirty–my pastel blue shirt and turquoise skirt were all soiled with either dust or dirt, and my white and pink striped long socks never stood a chance. Then Mom asked me, “Hon, are you sure you’re not taking drugs?” It was usually only my mom, Marnie, and I who were at home during the week. My dad, Tommy, worked as an accountant for this big company, which meant he was always out of town and would only be at home during weekends and holidays breaks. This meant that Mom was always on my case. “No mom–I already told you, I saw a ghost when I took the shortcut through the graveyard!”

But she just giggled and shook her head. “Honey, I already told you that the graveyard is dangerous.” “Whatever mom... I’m going to bed.” I climbed up the stairs and went straight to my room. “Dinner’s almost ready, but before you crash on that bed, make sure to change your clothes first. I just changed the bed sheets this morning; they’ll get dirty too soon if you don’t.” I wanted rest so badly but being the good daughter, I did a change of clothes first before I dozed off. +++ Lunch break in school. The sun was up high in the clear blue sky. The building of the school and the cafeteria behind it were two separate buildings and no tree shaded the space between the two buildings, so that all students had to cross the hot concrete in between, where the sun released its fiery wrath. The cafeteria was half the size of the main building. It was a twostorey painted concrete cave decorated with benches and tables. It had a large opening but the deeper one walked inside, the hotter it got because the ventilation was quite poor. Some electric fans were scattered here and there but they just couldn’t beat the tropical heat. I knew it wasn’t just myself who heard the wails of discomfort in the air. I made my way through the crowd, holding my lunch bag close to me, I walked towards my friends and I’s special table. That green six-seater table was positioned in what we called a heaven spot: one of the few places in the cafeteria where it was miraculously cool enough to make any student momentarily stop complaining about the heat. What was so special about that table from the other heaven spot tables was that we marked the underside of the wooden table with a fork, with the initials “MFTH”–M for me, Marisse; F for Freddy; T for Theodore; and H for Hanna. As I crossed the sizzling concrete, Freddy flanked my right, and Hanna–who just dropped a dozen beads of sweat at the sight of Theodore wearing his thick fur coat–was by my left. My friends walked beside me now

like we were a row of soldiers marching on no man’s land. While the rest of the students ran, we walked like we were too cool to be melted by the sun–although the truth was that we were the lesser kind of students–we defied the rule of the norm, and people always saw us as weirdos. When we reached, fortunately, our table wasn’t taken. Due to the heat and hassle of eating lunch at the cafeteria, more students chose to bring their own lunch and eat in their classrooms instead. This meant that the cafeteria held fewer students than usual. We made our way to our special table, took our seats, and began eating our lunch. We always liked to chat while we sat, eating like how a happy family would. They were the only group that I could call family in school. While eating, with a disgruntled look on her face, Hanna gave Theodore a slap on his shoulder and said, “My god, Theo! It’s over a hundred degrees in that coat and you don’t even break a single sweat. We are all skeptical that you might not even be a human at all!” Theodore replied lazily, “No heat nor cold for the man with the fluff coat. Rain or shine baby!” These were his usual catchphrases every time anyone asked him to take off his fur coat. Hanna shook her head in disappointment and the rest of us gave a small laugh. Then Theodore looked at me with those black eyes and said, while twirling his curly, black hair, “Hey Marisse... I need to copy your homework in Math. I forgot to do it at home.” “Sure, buddy. just make sure you return it to me after class,” I smiled. Theodore was a genius, he always got the highest score in any exam in his class–even without studying or taking notes of anything. His memory power exceeded the entire batch of grade ten students. Needless to say, we were already skeptical if our friend Theo was human or actually a robot. He would’ve been in the first honours if he just exerted effort in projects–but his crystal-clear future had become thanks to all his slacking. His reasons: depression and a lack of motivation. You could see all that gloom just in his appearance: he was a lanky boy with black hair, black eyes, a pale face, dark eyebags, and was one who never took off that beige fur

coat. Three big black buttons keeps it wrapped around his body, while the fur rested on his shoulders and cuffed his wrists. “Makes me look cool and it hides my body,” as he would always say. No one has ever seen his body–not even us, his close friends–and it remains unknown and I’ve figured, was better left undiscovered. That moment, I remembered the graveyard incident from yesterday and the flashes of fear flooded my mind, filling me with emotions that turned into words, and then that all burst out of my mouth, “I made a conversation with a ghost!” They all paused and looked at me. “Mars, you okay?” Hanna said puzzled. “Really? How was it?” Freddy asked in amazement and curiosity. “Yesterday, I talked to a ghost and it showed me a dead body. You guys know I’m deathly afraid of seeing a dead body, right?” “Was it the ghost’s dead body?” Freddy asked. “No, he didn’t look like it...” “So this was a boy ghost, huh?’ Hanna said in anticipation; my fear went from bad to worse after that. Boy, did I have a bad feeling about this. Hanna loved to write fan-fiction and draw fan art. She wrote a lot of romance mixed with other genres, depending on the couple she was writing about. It was always about two persons, things, or a person and a thing that would eventually love each other. She always spent her free time–especially her weekends–writing inside her room. Her writing style was lovely but the couples she chose to star in her stories were always unique and often times, disturbing. I mean who would ship’ Dora the Explorer and the Map? I even memorised a paragraph from that book she wrote, which really hit me hard...and laughing. “The map with his new muscular body knelt on one leg in front of Dora and said, ‘We can go anywhere you wish with my endless knowledge of all places, but it seems that you have found the map to my heart.’ Dora’s cheeks turned red and she was trembling with love.” Now, I worry that she might make a story out of me and the ghost. “That could be a great book you know,” she smiled baring her pink braces.

My fears have become reality. Hanna was the smallest in the group. She had the tips of her hair coloured blue, although her natural hair colour was black. Aside from wearing braces, she also wore yellow spectacles. She loved wearing sweaters but because of the heat, she would tie her tea green sweater around her waist, exposing her plain white shirt. We shared the same interest in wearing striped socks; hers were always paired with maroon sneakers. Today, she wore yellow and blue striped socks. The word book echoed in my head and I did not waste my time to stop her because I could never change her mind once she found another new subject for one of her books. Thankfully Freddy protested, “Ah don’t. It’s going to be horrible, I guarantee one-hundred percent.” Hanna retorted, “You don’t know anything about writing. Books and horror movies are different, stupid.” “–But I read Creepypasta.” “You don’t know anything about love!” So Freddy’s protest was invalidated and I was still screwed. Great. Freddy squinted his eyes at Hanna, and then rolled his eyes towards me, “Maybe it would be better to put all this ghost stuff to rest. It might be an angry ghost that’s seeking for revenge and–” “Haunt me for all eternity by flicking lights, possessing people, and flipping tables... I know,” I continued. “Anyway, you should ask the ghost what it wants, so it can be put to rest. If it wants to kill you though, I suggest sprinkling it with blessed sea salt,” he said, with his closed eyes while stroking his sorry excuse for a goatee. “I should do that...thanks man!” I gave him a smile. “The salt’s on me, Marisse,” he replied. Freddy loved anything horrific. He has watched all horror movies that he could get, He had access to the deep web and he shared with us all sorts of weird stuff. He has been reading horror stories and Creepypasta ever since I met him in first grade–this resulted to him learning all the safety precautions and survival skills when faced with the paranormal and the

supernatural. He was literally our horror almanac. If there were to be a zombie apocalypse, all of us would definitely stick with him all the way. He had carrot-coloured hair, eyes that looked like copper when glinted with light, a few facial hairs on his chin (his version of a goatee), wore a black shirt with bold red lettering printed on it, which read: “Friday the 13th,” and paired everything with orange khakis. We finished our lunch and then left the table, heading to the main building of the school. We exchanged goodbyes and parted ways towards our own different classrooms. Later in the day, after classes, I caught up with my friends once again. We walked on our way home and the graveyard was the first stop. I found myself in front of the those very same black gates. Today was just like yesterday. The sky was all gray and depressed again, the air had a stillness, and the cold breeze felt like it could reach the freezing point. The gargoyles looked exactly the same as I left them yesterday; they stared at me with those cold, watchful eyes and that made me shiver all over. But this time, my friends were there with me and I felt Hanna’s small warm hand land gently on my shoulder. “Maybe we should go around instead, in case we see your ghost friend again, right?” Hanna offered. She didn’t care about my sanity though; she only cared about writing a book. Also, she doesn’t actually believe in ghosts, so she thought I was just seeing things. “Or maybe we should just go with Marisse and hang out in her house. I’m sure her mom would make us some cookies,” Freddy suggested. Even though he is most familiar with the dark and gloomy settings of horror movies and books, Freddy had always been a ball of glorious sunshine. I looked at Theodore who made no sound whatsoever; he just nodded to everything. He looked more dead than anything in the graveyard though, with the gray surroundings, making him almost look like a corpse who had died of an medieval disease. I stared beyond the gates and looked for a tree on a gravel road but there was none to be seen. Curiously though, I could feel it–the ghost boy,

I mean. The mystery phantom was no fantasy, I knew; it wasn’t all a dream because I could feel it. It was like we were connected and I was attracted to it, err, him. Was he waiting for me? I grabbed Hanna’s hand then she grabbed Freddy who then dragged Theodore like a balloon–all of them were giving me a quizzical look and yet–I found myself walking towards the graveyard. I felt I had to; it was for proof. The cracking sounds between a pair of shoes and gravel became two, then three, then four. I passed by familiar names of tombstones and that one familiar tree. “We must be getting close,” I thought. I closed my eyes to hear the sound of our cracking footsteps and the amplified whistling of the wind. I opened my eyes again, and everything went silent. And there it was–the tree over the gravel road, where I left it yesterday. The leaves had not left their branches, and so I rushed to see the tombstone behind the tree...and there it was just as I left it yesterday! Though there were no signs of the ghost but I exclaimed anyway, “Guys are you seeing any of this!?” No response. “Guys?” I turned to look behind me, only to see no one. Fear immediately crept in, and I looked frantically on all sides searching for my friends but there is no one there but me. I took out my phone from my satchel: 3:59 p.m. What was happening? Time itself was behaving unusually in this area. Just then, the earth rumbled and the tombstone started to glow a bluish flicker. The tombstone rose from the ground, unearthing a door beneath it. The door was made of black wood and was framed with smooth, red stone. The door opened, making a loud creaking sound as it did; then the ghost came out from it. He took a deep breath, savouring the clean air like someone who hasn’t left their room for a month. His inhalation exercises were cut short though, and he let out a wheeze when he saw me. “Oh hello there, miss!” he greeted.

I was still shaken–I was conversing with a ghost, again!–but I gathered my courage and replied, “It’s a good afternoon, isn’t it? What place is this?” “Good timing, miss... I need your help.” He took my hand and to my surprise, his hand didn’t go through mine. He dragged me towards the door and a bright light flooded my eyes for a second. +++ When I came to, I found myself in a place that looked like a starless outer space, but had doors of different shapes and sizes. Brick roads made of glowing blue bricks were scattered like the branches of a wild bush. Spirits of different shapes and colours walked along the roads, the area looked lively with the dead. The ghost released my hand and he told me to follow him. I looked down beneath the road just to see an endless abyss of roads and doors. “I haven’t actually gotten your name yet, miss,” the ghost said with a friendly smile. “Marisse...Marisse Woods. D’you have a name?” I felt rude asking him if he had a name. “The ghosts here always call me Ghost Boy. So I made my own nickname out of that–Goby–but they kept calling me Ghost Boy...but for a change please, call me Goby.” “Goby it is...” I said, trying to be polite. I reached out my hand to him for a quick handshake but an extremely strong force dragged me quickly towards the door in front of me. When I woke up, I was on the grass, and my friends were gathered around me in a circle. My vision was all blurry and my head felt dizzy. Hanna then landed an almighty slap on my face. “Ouch!” I shouted as the sharp pain on my cheek pulled me back to consciousness. “Oh my god, Mars, you had us worried! You just fell on the ground unconscious.” She then hugged me tightly. “How long was I out?”

“Five minutes,” Freddy replied. “But the tree! The tombstone! They were right there!” I said hysterically. I gently push Hanna aside and looked around only to see nothing over the gravel road. Freddy was behind Hanna, and a wide-eyed emotion-lacking Theodore stood beside him. “Marisse, what are you talking about?” Hanna asked with a raised eyebrow. “We should get you home,” Freddy suggested. They held me up and walked alongside me, my arms around Theodore and Freddy’s shoulders. I still felt a tad dizzy because Hanna’s slap shook my head. I let go of the boys after leaving the graveyard and we continued walking to my house. “Don’t tell Mom I passed out,” I said with a stern look. Everyone agreed and nodded. I knocked on the door; my mother opened it. She was wearing her favourite green oven mittens. “Hey kids good to see you again! Come inside.” “Thank you, Mrs. Woods, but we only escorted Marisse here and we better get going as well,” Hanna said smiling. “Is that so? Well, thank you and be careful on your way home, all right?” “Yeah thanks guys,” I muttered as I got in the house. Mom closed the door behind me. I sluggishly climbed up the stairs but my mom interrupted, “Marisse honey, maybe it’s better to eat dinner before going to bed...am I right?” I stopped at my tracks, and hunger dragged me down towards the dining room. Later, after dinner, I was in my room, brushing my teeth. After that, I changed into my pyjamas and fell asleep face down on the bed. I woke up to someone whispering my name to my ear. I shifted to face the ceiling and the voice called out louder, “Marisse! Psst wake up!” My sleepy eyes looked left and right, but saw nothing. I started to wonder if this was a dream. “Marisse under your bed!” The voice was louder this time. But I told

myself, this was just a dream, a remnant from the events that happened earlier. That I just needed more sleep…but... My heart skipped a beat and I shrieked a sharp yelp as my bed was thrown up a few centimetres in the air and it landed with a loud thud. I woke up instantly, was in shock mostly, and I sat up on the bed, my hands still grabbing on the mattress. My eyes darted on a ghostly white hand that gripped the blanketcovered frame of the bed. It pulled the sheets so hard that it pulled the soft blanket off, exposing my legs to the cold air of the night...and then there was a thud and a loud ‘oof!’ right after. I fell off the bed along with the sheet. I got on all fours and checked what was under my bed. The familiar checkered shirt came into view; Goby’s head was covered with my blanket and the bottom half of his body was under my bed. He jerked off the blanket, covering his head in the process and groaned afterwards. The exposed parts of his body; his hands, face and hair kept their translucent state but tonight they emitted a soft white glow. His blue eyes refused to glow but there was a new set of souls swirling around them. His eyes met mine but this time, I refused to focus on his eyes entirely. “You left me earlier. I need your help...we must go now.” Once again, he took my hand and dragged me down, my back made a thud on the floor and I slid to a door under the bed–head first. I found myself in the ghost world once again, but instead of falling face first on the blue brick road, I found myself lying on my back with the door above my head parallel to the road. Wearing my pink pyjamas, the ghost world felt a little colder. Goby took my arm and pulled me up. I shook off his hand from my arm in annoyance and confusion. I wanted to know what was happening. This ghost mojo was going on for days now. “I think you have a lot to explain, mister. Right this moment.” “Geez, Mom, you don’t have to say it that way–” he teased. I gave him a stern look and his comeback is put to a halt, “Fine.” He floated mid-air, crossing his legs. “Go on, fire away,” he said,

placing his chin on his fist. So I began asking, “Where am I?” “You are in a place called the Crossroads. Basically this place is the afterlife, either you go to the two H rooms or be an eternal wanderer by entering doors, thus entering places and different worlds,” he responded. “Why was there a door under my bed?” “All beds have a door underneath them. That’s the secret of the boogieman,” he said, while still foating on mid-air. “Why am I here? I’m still alive, aren’t I?” “You are currently in your astral form, which is possible to do so because of a human talent called astral projection; your spiritual body is temporarily away from your physical body,” he retorted quickly. “What about the tree and the tombstone in the graveyard?” I asked again. “That’s a sanctuary. There’s a designated sanctuary in every town,” he responded matter-of-factly. “Then how come I entered it while I was awake?” I said confused. “You must have passed out, didn’t you?” he asked. I started thinking: when I passed out earlier I could have projected my spirit. Leaving my body for that short period of time I was with Goby. Things were starting to get clear but I still had a few questions. “Why do you need help? And of all people, why me?” I asked. Goby took a deep breath before responding. From the earlier mood of him answering questions likened to a game show, things quickly turned for him into questions from a truth-or-dare game. The swirling in his eyes slowed down as he spoke, “I want to remember who I am. For every 1000th death, that 1000th will be a Soul Collector, fortune and destiny made me a Soul Collector. First, our memories are erased then our job is to collect souls then deliver them to the souls master. No one knows what he does to the souls.” “Why me then?” I was starting to get more confused. He floated down to the floor and stood, “I lived my short life in Gloomsdale. It’s only been like a year since my death and you are my first

and probably the best chance to find out my identity.” I covered my mouth as I gasped. I did not have any idea who he was. I had amnesia–of course I wouldn’t! I saw that his effort of explaining everything and bringing me here would become fruitless. This ghost only wanted to get back his memories. I hesitated to say the truth but I knew I had to, “I also have no memory of my past life.” I looked down in guilt and shame. What would he say? His first and last chance of finding out his identity had failed. It made me sadder to think about it, but then I thought, what could he do to my soul now that I seemed useless to him? This could be the end of my life, I feared. “You had amnesia?” he asked. “Yes.” I my lips thinned into a straight line. “–There is a way to get your memories back,” he said, trying to make out a smirk. Six months ago, right after I woke up to the sight of two strangers teary-eyed at the foot of the hospital bed, and despite the fuzziness of the dextrose and long slumber, I managed to cock my head sideways and asked, “‘Where am I?” “Do I know you two?” “The woman kneeled by my side, and clutching my hands tightly, said, “Marisse honey, it’s me your mom!” I said nothing as my eyes followed the tear that streaked her face. “I don’t remember anything,” was all I could say. From that point, the woman broke into a sob and the man beside her comforted her. They nodded and looked at each other, and as the woman wiped away her tears, they started to tell me stuff like my name–Marisse Woods–their names, Marnie and Tommy Woods; that they were my parents; and that I suffered from amnesia after I fainted and was in a coma for the last three weeks. I just nodded and I slowly satiated my hunger for information and memory. I did not ask a single question about me then and I just took in what was given to me.

At home, I found pictures of me and my parents told of stories about our family trips, and my birthday parties. I guess I was complete after that, but I felt I lacked something. I lacked what people with complete memories had: I was empty of the emotions from the memories of my past. Now, I felt the need to get back those memories. To have the chance to feel those wonderful emotions set inside those memories. I saw the chance that I could finally be more than my completed state. “We have to get your memories from the Memory Eaters. I see this will be a long night,” he sighed. “Wait, what!? Memory Eaters!?” I raised my brow. “Ah, yes...the hive-minded Memory Eaters. They work like bees. They wander the Crossroads to harvest memories for a year, and then they return to their hive to feed their queen. They usually harvest complete memories of bodiless souls and just small fragments from embodied souls. In your case, the common cause of amnesia: a sharp blow to the head. The weaker your mind gets, the weaker the connection of the body and soul. Unfortunately, a Memory Eater must have been nearby and harvested your memories,” Goby shared. “How do you even know all of this?” I asked. “There’s a huge library here in the Crossroads...I spend my free time reading there,” he responded. “Well how are we going to find that one particular Memory Eater?” I asked again. “With this.” He pulled a chained compass from his left pocket and rested it on his palm. It was no ordinary compass though: the glass was domed like a knick-knack, and the bottom was lined with bronze. In the glass dome, a thin rod made of blue glowing metal rested coldly. “This compass will point to the thing you want. I just need you to look at the centre of this compass for ten seconds and think about getting your memories back,” then he placed the compass in front of my face. I stared and focused on the shiny silver dot in the middle of the compass and Goby starts counting down, “Ten…nine… eight…” I focused harder and thought about reclaiming my lost memories. “I

need my memories,” I thought to myelf. “Five…four…three…two…one…” The tiny rod in the compass suddenly spun around the dome wildly, and then suddenly came to a complete stop, pointing upwards. Goby rested the compass on his palm then gave it a light tap on the glass. The rod spun anew and pointed northwest at a 65-degree angle. Goby turned, following where the compass pointed to. The rod pointed to a faraway door that floated in mid-air. It had no roads connected to it, and was just a normal floating door in the realm of the dead. With the compass on his hand, Goby pulled me close to his side. Then the white swirls in his left eye sank deeper in his eyes and he grew a large pair of ghostly white wings that spread out like an angel’s, ready for flight. The wings flapped, blowing blue dusty clouds on the road–a strong flap to increase our altitude and a mighty strong flap that sent us into the air. The wings were not made of white feathers though. They were actually made from clumps of souls compressed into thin sheets to form a pair of wings. Each wing was riddled with black spots that resembled the eyes and mouths of the souls, and their faces were kept in the same, almost featureless expression of surprise–like the holes on a coconut. The wings moved gracefully with every flap; flight itself, for Goby, was literally a symphony of hundreds of souls. We approached the destination in increasing velocity as the air ran colder in our faces. Goby’s eyes felt empty with nothing swirling in it. He slowed his flight to a glide and completely stopped when we reached the door. The door was etched with ‘I)’ and Goby explained, “This one leads to a dream. It better not be a nightmare though.” I opened the door and Goby threw me inside. On the other side of the door was a small room. The gray paint over the walls was no more as lifeless as the bright light of an old analogue television that showed nothing but static. In the middle of the room was a person wearing a fur coat; the fur looked like the thorns of a rose that were bathed in darkness. The person did not move; he stared blankly at the TV, only to watch his dead show. Silence conquered the entire room. All around, the aura felt sad and

depressing. I knew whose dream I had entered: Theodore’s. Poor Theodore, even his dreams were dull, and yet none of his friends would even be surprised because it was Theodore–a poor soul plagued by shadows. We would try to help him and he did smile, but then the following day, his gloom would be back. We have lost all hope and just concluded that it was just Theodore being Theodore. Goby entered the room leaving the door behind him slightly ajar. The swirling whites in his eyes slowly came back from whence they came. He caught me eyeing Theodore, “You know this guy?” he asked. “Yes,” I responded. He approached Theodore’s right side, walking opposite to mine, following the direction of the compass that now pointed to the TV. “Talk to him. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s sleep,” Goby instructed me. I sat and talked to Theodore, “Theo, it’s me Marisse.” Theodore turned his head and his eyes met mine. His curly hair wriggled like hairy snakes, “Hey Marisse. What a surprise to see you in my dream.” “We need to stop your show and check what’s in your TV for a sec. Will that be all right?” I asked. “Sure just make it quick. I’m a bit–” he paused and twitched, “I’m a bit impatient,” he continued in his gloomy tone. I gave a go signal to Goby and he placed his hand inside the television. His arms shook, trying to grab whatever was inside the tube. Theodore twitched every few seconds and the thorns on his fur grew in length. A few minutes later, Goby grunted and his arm shook more violently inside the television. Apparently, this Memory Eater was hard to catch. Theodore continued to twitch every few seconds and the thorns grew to almost a foot long. Theodore’s blank face was now a face of impatience and frustration. “Anytime now Goby,” I said, starting to feel Theodore’s restlessness. Goby moved his hand violently this time, tilting the TV in the process. “Almost––Got––It!” He jerked his hand out of the TV, and a pink,

translucent, snake-like ghost with a head the size of a beach ball was wriggling in his hand. A purple orb glowed inside of the head’s core and the Memory Eater screeched as it struggled to escape. By this time, Theodore had stood up and his head had stopped twitching. He transformed into a figure with a devoid black head, two blaring red eyes, and a large grin that spanned from ear to ear, baring his long, white teeth. The beige fur coat was now bloodstained and the thorns had sharpened and elongated to about two feet! Theodore–or the creature he turned himself into–started snarling like an agitated dog, and his eyes squinted into slits. With a deep raspy voice alongside his own, he said, “Took you too long, ghost boy…” His grin grew wider. A strand of the fur extended into a tentacle and swiftly slashed Goby’s wrist, causing him to let go of the Memory Eater. Goby fell on his buttocks, clutching his wounded wrist, while the Memory Eater made Its escape through the open door. “Be careful, Marisse... If you die in someone else’s dream, your soul dies for real,” Goby quickly cautioned. He then took a gun out from his pocket and fired, hitting Theodore on the chest. Theodore quickly returned to his old self and collapsed on the floor. “What did you do to him!?” I frantically ran to Theodore only to see no blood. “Don’t worry...it’s like a spirit tranquiliser.” He shoved his gun back to his pocket and looked at the compass. “C’mon, a few more hours ‘till sunrise... We gotta go quickly!” Goby said. +++ We reached our destination. There was no symbol carved on the door. Goby started, “This leads somewhere in the over-world.” Goby went in first, and we found ourselves in someone else’s house. Coming out from their closet, Goby jogged quietly, with myself following closely. We gave chase to the Memory Eater, until we entered the door to

the basement. From there, we returned to the Crossroads, and Goby ran and entered another door but before I entered it, I checked for any symbols on the door. Another ‘I)’ symbol. I knew now that this door led to a dream. I entered the door with caution. I found myself in an ice cream parlour some time in the 90’s. People were enjoying their ice cream, and the cold smoke of the desserts cooled the air. I almost thought of taking a break with a cup of hot sundae. I heared the people in the parlour make sensible conversations. Some talked about their day, while others chatted about leaving town for a holiday, and still others made comments about their ice cream. This was all but a dream but the dreamer’s imagination is so powerful that the dream felt so real. I wondered which dreamer was behind all this, and there among the seats beside the window pane was Hanna enjoying her strawberry ice cream. Of course! This was Hanna’s dream. Not only was she a writer, she was also a creative artist. I was about to compliment her excellent dreaming when I got distracted by the person sitting across Hanna’s table. It was a guy who was quite muscular body. He wore a white shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, but his yellow head had no face, but it had a bold question mark though. A sharp whistle called my attention; it was Goby by the counter, waving at me. I approached him and said, “It’s another dream. This time, it’s my friend Hanna’s. I gotta go talk to her.” Goby sat by the bar stool, both elbows on the counter and the compass in his hand, facing him. “Compliments to the dreamer! The ice cream here tastes great. Care for a cup? My treat,” Goby said. A cup of vanilla ice cream slid on the counter for him. “Yeah I was craving for a sundae just now,” I smiled. “I’ll be back. Don’t try to take a scoop of my ice cream, you hear?” Goby took a scoop of his ice cream and nodded. He said, with his mouth full of ice cream, “Uh also, ask about the whereabouts of the Memory Eater.”

He swallowed his ice cream and spoke with ice cream vapour coming out from his mouth. “Compass goes haywire with powerful thoughts,” he continued, while munching. I slowly approached Hanna so that she could see me coming toward her. She stood up, shouted my name and signaled me to sit beside her. The question mark-faced person waved with his beefy arm at me the instant I sat beside Hanna. Hanna took my hand I placed on the table, and introduced me to her friend, “Mr Right, this is my best friend, Marisse... Marisse this is my boyfriend, Mr Right.” Mr Right reached out his hand and we shook hands. Then he looked at Hanna and gestured with his hands, like he was talking but no words came out. Hanna giggled and glanced at me with her V-shaped smile, and then took a scoop of her strawberry ice cream. Mr Right talked again and Hanna laughed, muted by her closed mouth that was still filled with ice cream. She swallowed the ice cream and continued to laugh. Hanna gave me a nudge, and said, “I’m glad you’re here, Marisse. Like, I did imagine you to be here anyway.” “I’m actually in your dream, Hanna,” I replied. Suddenly, she became agitated. Hanna stood up and shouted, “Nonsense! I command you to bark!” Annoyed with her disbelief, I disobeyed. She became more intrigued than angry this time. “Say something Marisse would.” I rolled my eyes. “Your fan-fics are horrible and you will never find your Mr Right.” Hanna placed her hand on her chest and sat down. “Ouch! It really is you, Marisse... How did you get here?” she asked. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say...uhmm...astral projection,” I grinned. Hanna squinted and looked at me straight in the eye after a long pause. Then she said, ”Astral projection, huh? Something smells like a ghost––a GF...a Ghost Friend!” She then clapped her hands twice, the whole dream paused. She

caught sight of the movement by the counter, and with a snap of her finger, a surprised Goby was instantly teleported to sit beside Mr Right– with a cone of ice cream and the compass in his hands. Hanna leaned her arm against the surface of the table, her eyebrow raised and her lips were smug. Goby looked like a deer caught in headlights, kept in a frozen gaze on Hanna. He moved his eyes left and right, and then back to Hanna. He grinned and said, “Uh, hi? Friend of Marisse, right?” He slowly took a scoop of ice cream in his mouth, “Oh, by the way, the ice cream is very delish.” Hanna took a look on his clothes then a good squint on his swirling eyes, “Nice outfit.” Hanna then turned to me, keeping her silly look, and then laid it down on Goby, “I’m totally shipping you two.” She continued to smile wider. I sigh-laughed while Goby pouted and raised his shoulders. I tried to keep a weak smile with the last ounce of the pride I had. Just like I said, you couldn’t change Hanna’s mind. Now she had an idea of how Goby looked like, she could start writing her next book. “Can I get Marisse’s sundae?” Goby asked. “No. Stay here, honey,” she snapped, and in an instant the sundae I ordered appeared in front of me. “Well, can I at least eat my ice cream?” Goby asked again. “Time is frozen. Save it for later. Marisse and I want to know more about you,” she siad coyly. Goby dropped his ice cream cone on the table and crossed his arms, “Well can I at least request for a search?” I barged into their conversation, “Hanna, it’s really important, pretty please?” Hanna nodded, ‘Well, it better be a handsome guy,” and she finally let out a genuine smile. Goby shook his head, “Well, it isn’t––” He paused while Hanna’s smile quickly faded away. He then continued, “We’re looking for a snake

with a huge pink head.” “Hold on for a sec–” Hanna said while she placed her fingers on her temples. Then she closed her eyes. Everything around us started to glitch, and then everything came to a sudden stop. Everything fell silent but we felt the cool vapours of ice cream on our skins. Hanna removed her fingers from her temples and opened her eyes once again, “It’s under the counter... I’ll remove the people for you.” In the blink of an eye, everyone except for us four–including Mr Right–disappeared. Goby and I left our seats and we slowly approached the counter with caution and preparedness. “Marisse, go behind the counter and try to catch the Memory Eater while I stay here to catch it when it gets out... Got it?” I nodded then Goby walked out of the door. As I got closer to the counter, I heard the sound of static and slowly the noise grew louder. Randomly, the static sound made a swooshing sound, like waves crashing onto a beach. Once beside the counter, I slowed my pace so that my footsteps were at their maximum silence. I crouched beside the counter and the static stopped. Confused, I leaned forward to see what the Memory Eater was doing–– SCREEEEECH! The ghostly creature scratched my face! “AHHHHH!” I scream so loud that the Memory Eater quickly slithered away towards the exit. It went through the door followed by a loud thud and some muffled screeching. “Fudgecicles! Slipped past my hands!” Goby cursed in frustration. “LET’S GO, MARISSE!” he groaned. I ran to the exit, and just then, Goby gave me a blue orb that was similar to his eyes. It was an orb that had hundreds of souls swirling in them. Goby ordered me to crack the orb open and when it did, the orb erupted into a fat roll of white souls that twisted and wriggled. This roll attached itself on my shoulder blades before transforming into a pair of wings, similar to Goby’s. Goby flew to chase the speeding Memory Eater and my wings

mirrored his wings’ movement, and soon I took flight. We twisted and turned, maneuvering through the tangled mess of roads and doors. Not too soon after, the Memory Eater was almost within Goby’s reach. He gripped the tail of the ghost creature and hugged it with his arms and wings, flinging both of them diving towards the bottom of the Crossroads. My wings then flapped to a halt, and I tried looking for Goby from above the branches of roads. Suddenly, a scream echoed. It sounded like Goby...but then there was another scream and a shout, “GO. MOVE NOW!” I heard another noise–the sound of breaking brick walls from a distance. It amplified and the surroundings slowly tinged with a pinkish colour. Goby zoomed in and snatched my hand. We flew fast, but I still noticed that his left eye was missing; only a socket with a small blue dot hiding inside it was left of the eye. A few moments later, Goby let go of my hand and we gently landed on a road. Just then I saw a familiar door attached to the road–it was the door that led to underneath my bed! “I didn’t know we were this close to their hive!” Goby almost shouted, but restrained himself. He pulled me closer, took my hand and placed something in it. I opened my hand, only to see a small white orb. “It’s your memories,” he paused and then sighed, “A Memory Eater queen is too strong, even for me. I may not make it back.” He then smiled with the saddest eyes and said, “Go back to the overworld... You should be safe there. When you reach, swallow the orb... That should bring back your memories.” He then lifted his shirt up to expose a large hole in his chest. Then he continued, “I may live because inside my body are more soul orbs. I have a chance to defeat this hive with these, but I don’t exactly know the strength of the queen... She could swat me like a fly.” I felt a tear welling up in my eye, “I haven’t returned you the favour of getting your memories back. I can’t tell you who you are yet. Please come

back alive, Goby.” “I hope I will.” His sad eyes sparked some hope and he quickly turned his back to face the hive that was now right in front of us. I backtracked and returned to the over-world, through the door, and back in my bedroom. My bed quivered, revealing the open door that still showed Goby. “I forgot to tell you,” he said as he casually scratched the back of his head, “the whole I-need-to-know-my-identity thing was a lie. My memories we never erased, but we held hands several times, and that’s enough for me.” Goby then looked behind him, and was welcomed by a loud roar. Pink coloured everything on the other side of the door, and some of the pinkish stuff were also trying to escape through the open door–into my room! Goby shut the door quickly and just as quickly, everything went silent, save for the peaceful sounds of chirping crickets from outside my bedroom window. +++ After fixing my bed, I sat up against the wall and gazed over the soft glowing ball of light in my hand. I couldn’t take my mind off of Goby’s last words. Why did he lie to me? What is the whole point of the adventure then? ‘We held hands several times, that’s enough.’ What did he mean by that? Before I swallowed up my orb of memories, I took a guess: Goby was someone I was really close with. Quite possibly, we were...lovers? I could solve all this mystery once I got back my memories, I told myself. I took a deep breath, and then swallowed the whole white orb like a pill. I closed my eyes and everything became white. Then they started coming back. My memories. Slowly. One at a time. I remembered my childhood... I remembered my first steps, my first birthday, my first day of school...

Where I met Freddy during our family outing by the beach... My 6th grade graduation. I remembered all the happy memories and the sad ones too. I smiled as I savoured every memory that came back. I remembered my first day in high school, and where I met Hanna and Theodore in my class. A braceless Hanna was still a beginner in her drawing career, and a straight-haired Theodore was a ball of sunshine before hebecame all emo, and Freddy was without his facial hair and knew nothing about the horrors of the horror genre. Most of my high school life was spent with them, and I found myself giggling at those memories. Then I remembered there was a fifth friend–a boy who wore a blue bonnet, a red and black checkered collared shirt over a yellow tee, some black jeans, and blue sneakers... He had been in all of the adventures of the MFTH... I remembered there was a G in the MFTH. His name was Ghunter Ombrey and we called him ‘Goby.’ One day in 9th grade, Goby came to school with a bouquet of roses and called for my name in my room. He offered me the posy and then he said, “Marisse, we’ve been together for quite a while now and I’m here with a nice bouquet of flowers because I like you––I-I mean, I really do.” With a smile on his face he took a deep breath and almost yelped, “Can you be my girlfriend?” Everyone who’d been watching us stood frozen as they waited for my answer. But I had to refuse. Goby was a nice person and all, but it was just not him. I felt he wasn’t right for me, and that there was another guy for me to I can love. I sighed, “Sorry, Goby. No. I can’t.” Everyone gasped and soon left the room one by one. Goby stayed dumbstruck in his place until the rest of the gang went to fetch him. Apparently they were all in it, and they had agreed to help him. Hanna gave me a disappointed nod and left with the others. The next day, Goby didn’t come to school. Freddy went to his house

after school to check up on him. Another day passed and Goby was nowhere to be found in school. Freddy reported to the gang and shared that Goby was fine and that he just needed some time to recover from his emotional shock. Three days of Goby’s absence, he returned to school like nothing happened. He remained in our group but I found it awkward to make eye contact with him. Sometimes, I would catch him looking at me, and I felt he still loved me but he had decided to hide it. I remembered a week in my 10th grade when the gang went to a mall. I crossed the road while my eyes were glued to my phone’s screen. The loud truck horn froze me in my tracks. Someone then shouted my name, and I looked back to see Goby running towards me. The loud horn became more deafening as Goby pushed me toward the sidewalk, but now I remember hitting my head on the pavement. Now, I remember lying on the cold, rough surface. That all I could see were flashes of lights–white, red and yellow. My vision became blurry and the voices became mere static. A cloud of purple gas drifted towards me and I felt my mind was being sucked by a vacuum... Then blackness swallowed everything. Like ink flooding a piece of paper. I woke up on a hospital bed. The warm rays of sunrise soothed my aching head and I felt the warm hand of my mom wrapped around mine. She was looking at the sunset when she noticed me waking up. “Marisse, you’ve awaken!” she smiled her biggest smile and tears started to well up in her eyes. “What happened?” I asked. “Yesterday, a truck lost control and almost stuck you. Your friend Ghunter saved you...but he didn’t make it, honey... He died instantly when the truck struck him,” Mom said. She continued, “The doctor said that you could have amnesia because of the injuries to your head but it seems you’re fine now...” She stood up, wiped her tears and said, “I should get you some breakfast. You must be hungry.” She had a refined sense of excitement as

she walked out of the room. I thought hard and tried to assess what happened: I woke up in the same hospital bed but I could remember everything. Everything. I thought I had amnesia, and I remembered that detail vividly, even though six months had already passed. I remembered living my life as it was, the adventure, the ride back home...when Goby took back my memories and swallowing the ball of light. I realised I woke up a day after the Memory Eater was supposed to take my memories, only this time I woke up without amnesia. “I forgot to tell you,” he said as he casually scratched the back of his head, “the whole I-need-to-know-my-identity thing was a lie. My memories we never erased, but we held hands several times, and that’s enough for me.” Those are Goby’s last words. I understood them now. He died and turned into a soul collector and I really had amnesia. In my sleep, my astral form followed him to the Crossroads to get my memories. Then after my memories had returned, I woke up with my whole body and soul safe from all dangers, and with my memories all intact. The six months I spent... Was it all a dream? Then it dawned to me: Goby gave his life in exchange for mine. He also gave his after-life for me. I didn’t owe him once. I owed him TWICE. I buried my face in my hands. I chanted repeatedly while tears continued to run under my arms and fall on the blanket. “I’m sorry... Thank you.”

Marisse Woods is a 14-year-old teenage girl who is recovering from amnesia. Just when she thought everything had gone back to normal, a teenage boyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ghost shows up in her life. On a quest to find this ghostâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true identity, Marisse also tries to find hers. The two go on an epic adventure in the ghost realm to look for both of their lost memories. Will they find them? Who is this mysterious ghost that Marisse has seemingly befriended? A story of ghosts, adventures, more ghosts and not-sopredictable plot twists await you in this story!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Daniel is an amateur artist and is a budding writer. He loves reading horror stories and like cartoon shows that feature dimensional jumping, and those with deep dark lore. He has started to write stories because he also wants to draw their covers.

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