A ghost comes out, ready to play.
Believe it or not, there's such a thing as the after-life. No one defines it cleverly enough though; the after-life is not life after death, it is life after life. Death is a pathway to another world; a world within this one. There is still consciousness, there is still pain, there is still hate and there is still hope - hope to find peace. Time goes forward, and then it stops. Leaving you in oblivion. You'll have no influence on the world you used to know and be a part of. Being dead is like being locked out of reality; your searing cries would be sunk in the void that has become your new home.
My death was less tragic than it was made out to be. I died in a bus with lots of other people, making me easy to miss. I was mourned as part of a group, with time people referred to my soul as "One of the Stonewell kids". My name was never mentioned. Tears never ran for me...not specifically at least. Now I'm stuck here. The afterlife. The alternate reality dominated by living souls who supposedly have unfinished business with the land of the living. Unequally yoked.
For a time that has felt like forever I've been stuck in a dark room. The only photon of light that creeps in slid through a tiny key-shaped stationed about a foot away from me. I have no idea where I am or what I was to do. I've tried pushing through, but to no avail. Perhaps, the place I am locked in is beyond me. There is no sound, only the deafening silence and despair of death looms in my surrounding. Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching. They are brisk and tiny, like that of a child. It's coming from outside - outside my hollow.
The footsteps get louder and louder, and then stop. The keyhole is blocked for a split second; this is my redemption. Peace has come for me. There is a click. The lock on my chamber is relieved and light floods in; who knew peace was this blinding? The door swings open.
I see someone.
Someone I know.