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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1700409-Amber
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest · #1700409
Is she a dream, real, or a ghost? 1500 word length
Hey, get up! It’s time to go man. Hey, Hey get up don’t you hear me. Ahh, he must be drinking that midlife moonshine again. Everyone was standing around looking at the Professor wandering what happened to this guy. He was such a great guy once. He lauy there motionless from his drunkenness and looked as though he either was dead or going to be soon. With light gurgling, the people could tell he was still alive although he smelled of road kill.

The larger men grabbed the Professor by the collar and yanked him out of the chair to the floor! "Goodness!" The Professor yelled as he stumbled to his feet. He looked around but could see no one, although all the others could see him. He was at home and not in class. The Professor shook the sleep from his eyes and then no one was there. He stumbled from his cozy library into the hallway where he was met with the smell of pine and nature. It’s an alluring, heavenly smell that stopped him in his tracks.  He remembered, in his stupor that the last time he smelled that smell was at Ambers funeral many years ago. What a strange, eerie feeling to have some ten years later he thought to himself.

He perched his rear against the wall, leaned down to grasp his knees while he shook his head from left to right. He took one deep breath,  then stood up and thought to himself about how he needed to stop drinking. Click clack, click, He turned his head abruptly from the hallway to the living room and to his surprise the room was lit up with the silhouettes of those he recognized. Entranced by the sight that so cleverly hid as quickly as he saw it, he thought he was losing his mind. He darted back to the library to his writing nook and looked around for the bottle or bottles that he must have sucked down to be so drunk he is hallucinating. Where the hell are the bottles, I know I drank you,  so where are you? Ah ha he yelled at the bottle of whiskey on the floor! He picked it up and realized it hasn’t been opened.  Now he is clearly confused, his heart pounding and he knows he must be out of his mind. Rapidly losing control he throws the bottle against the dark cherry
desk, his beloved Amber got him the day she died…Today as a matter of fact; ten years to the day…

Realizing that, though he is not drunk, something is going on he can’t explain. He watched as the unshattered shards of glass from the whiskey bottle leak droplets of red liquid down the desk and onto the carpet. Being that whiskey isn’t red this was weird and caught his attention. The bottle leaked but the volume never lowered. The droplets formed a small figure of an M and an A on the carpet and the first thought the Professor had was that the devil must be coming to collect his soul!

The Professor now was in shock and was shivering rather feverishly, crouching on the floor. Tears began to well up and he closed his eyes tightly. BOOM! He heard a large crash against the wall, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He knew the devil or some form of evil would be in front of him so it was better to keep his eyes closed as if he were a child hiding under the covers.
“Is that what you do now” said a heavenly voice but stern! She asked him again, do you hide yourself from the world or just from me? You know I see what you do from where I rest in the sky Professor!

Amber, it couldn’t be? He slowly lifted his head and saw her angelic face. She said don’t you dare! You can’t ask me any questions. It’s a condition of being here. I’ll give you some answers and that’s all. You have to understand I am here for you not me. Though my death was untimely your life is unholy, unhealthy, and uninspirational. I have watched you ever since my funeral. I was there, I saw you stroke my hair as you hovered over me in the casket. I remember you telling me that my hair is so beautiful. You brought scissors and you cut a lock of curls and tucked them away so no one could see.  I am here for that lock Professor. You have to let me go. It is time, I gave you ten years to mourn my death and now you must move on. She reached through the desk drawers just as the ghosts in the movies reach through objects and took back her lock of hair.

Don’t you remember your favorite quote; we are all victims, Anselmo. Our destinies are decided by a cosmic role of the dice, the winds of the stars, the vagrant breezes of fortune that blow from the windmills of the Gods.- H.L.Dietrich, The Final Destiny.  I know you remember this. It is the truest of truths and you knowing this must understand that it was not your fault. I wanted to go that night and get my hair done so I could be beautiful for your birthday party. I knew you loved blondes and being that I was not; I wanted you to see me as a blonde for your birthday.  I know  you have concocted this story in your mind that you guilted me into becoming a blonde and it is your fault I was in that accident. That’s nonsense!

I’m sorry I scared you tonight. This was my first reentry as a ghost so I am still learning the ropes. A few more good deeds and I might get wings. Maybe then I will be allowed to see you again. You have to know that I love you and wish that I could still hold you or even  touch your skin one more time. I can’t as I am not made of flesh anymore, if we touched you’d be killed and sent to purgatory for a hundred years for violating the code of angels.

I’m leaving now. Don’t say a word! I have to go now. You can go back to your dreams now. Honor me by accomplishing some of those wonderful ambitions you had when I was alive! Amber started to fade away and as he stood to his feet she smiled,  her gorgeous blonde locks waved in a mysterious wind that had the same enchanting fragrance of pine and nature. He started to grumble in a weepy fashion and Amber in an unearthly manner turned to her right and ran down the hallway out the door and leaped into the air and disappeared before he could get a word out. Just as he yelled hey, all the others in the room where now visible. They were friends and family of his past and each of them were leaping and disappearing just as Amber did seconds ago.

Before the last person stood up, he looked at the bottle that the Professor tried to break against the desk. He picked up the bottle, looked over at the Professor and said Son, don’t disappoint me. That woman loves you and so help me I will come back down here and dig your grave myself! Then he turned away and leaped. The professor emotionally confused muttered Ambers name and then in a vicious yell, screamed out DAAAAAD, as he learched out for him falling flat on his face! He laid in tears of joy and sadness, regret, and hope……
Professor! Get up, Hey get up Sir, Professor  wake up! Class is over. The professor opened his eyes and looked around confused and stuttered as he spoke out, Sorry sorry! I have been so exhausted grading all these midterms. Are you okay Professor asked Dianne, one of the students? Yes, I am okay. I just dozed off; I suppose we all do that from time to time. At least you were all in the middle of a test and I wasn’t lecturing, he giggled. She said yes sir that is true but just so you know you kept saying the name Amber and then you screamed at your father. Oh, it was just a dream,  I am so sorry I fell asleep on you guys I will make it up to you. Okay everyone let’s get out of here w e are all obviously exhausted.

The professor packed up his things, he said goodnight to the last students as they walked out the door. He heard one last goodbye rather quietly said and then caught a tiny sniff of the familiar pine smell again and quickly looked up at the doors as he heard a light chiming noise. He saw the glimpse of beautiful glowing locks of blonde hair whisking through the exit.

Amber! Is that you....
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