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The words on the pages of the newspaper allow events of years prior to flood my head. Memories upon memories flash through my brain as if it is an old movie resurfacing in the cinema. I put the newspaper down as I stand up from sitting in the wooden chair of my dining room area.
As I head toward my kitchen, unfamiliar voices fill my ears as if the moments I had just relived were happening in real time. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to chase all the noise and pain away. It won’t help; it never does, no reason to try. I quickly grab a glass from the cabinet overhead as I fill it with tap water. Sipping the water takes my mind off the agony of the past. My thoughts are able to dissipate, although I recognize that this torment will be something I can never fully escape.
I put my hand on my head as I feel an ache begin to take place. I quickly make the assumption that this pain will lead to a headache—it always does—so I leave the kitchen in order to get my medication, putting the empty glass on the counter to deal with when I don’t feel so bad. My heart starts to pick up as I pass the door leading to my unfinished basement. The insulation still peeks through the wooden poles as I now use it as storage of items and parts of my past too painful to bear looking at again. A few years ago, I would’ve put my all into renovating this space, but that was a different time. A time when I could look at the past without instantly remembering all the dread that came with it.
Crash. I hear the sound of an object falling. Although an eerie feeling sets me off guard, I quickly dismiss it. I haven’t really even been in the basement, not since the day that changed the course of my life. Something must have been placed wrong and now finally shifted enough to fall. Yeah. That must be it. But that wouldn’t make sense, since some type of force should have caused the object to fall… it doesn’t matter. I don’t have the energy to deal with something as trivial as this.
I walk towards my bedroom and open the door. After waiting the necessary time for my medication to work, I get ready for bed. I’m ready to let this day full of mixed emotions pass. Slowly, I drift into a deep slumber as the nightmares return. I thought that I’d finally overcome such emotions, but I guess they always had a way of returning to me, whether I liked it or not. I didn’t like it. I never had.
Morning arrives and I feel as if I hadn’t slept the whole night. A sigh escapes my mouth as I get up for the day. There isn’t much to do on a Saturday, and I don’t think I’ll be able to fall back asleep any time soon.
Heading towards the kitchen, I hear a muffled thump as I pass the basement door. I stare at the door contemplating if my mind is just playing tricks on me due to the fact that I still feel tired and restless; that same post-sleep haze that never lifted, no matter how much I rested. Before I can think further, a loud CRASH shakes me from all thoughts that have entered my mind. Once is an unusual occurrence. Twice is a coincidence. Thrice is a sign that this action was done purposefully. It wasn’t as mundane as I had first expected it to be yesterday.
I knew that going into a poorly lit, unfinished basement wasn't the smartest decision on my behalf, but what do I have to lose? There are many factors to oppose entering, but something is drawing me towards the noise, like it’s specifically calling towards me. Even though an uneasy feeling blooms inside of me, I shrug it off and turn on the basement lights, beginning to move down the creaky stairs.
At first glance, it seems as if it’s the same as any abandoned basement; but right as I reached the middle stair, I saw a translucent object shift in the gleam of the light. It seems as if it moved from behind the many boxes stacked to the top with pictures and frames of different moments from the past. After taking a deep breath in, I rush to look behind the clutter of boxes so as to not back out of what dangerous situation I put myself in. For all I know, some homeless fellow could have come in to take whatever belongings I had of value in my storage while I was out grocery shopping or hanging out with what friends remained by my side.
Hidden behind the boxes, there's a translucent figure floating as if they weren’t quite from this world. After analyzing all identifiable aspects of the being that stands in front of me, it seems as if they have human-like qualities. This whole situation is so bizarre. Maybe I’ve really gone insane this time, or maybe I’m only sleeping. I don’t know which one would be better.
I clear my throat, preparing to talk to whatever’s made its way into my house, “Er… H- Hello. I’m not sure if you can… well, understand me, or if you even exist, but I’d like to ask if you could tell me what you are and why you’re hiding ‘n my basement.” It takes a moment for the person-esque thing in front of me to register what is currently happening, but it looks like they sort of understand me.
They respond, “...Well, I think ’m some sort of ghost. My memory is proper mixed and ’m not sure why ’m ‘ere, of all places. Do ya… know who I am? Did ya harm me? Did you do this t’ me?” The being, now identified as a ghost, floats closer to me, tilting its head, and I back away in fear. Is it going to kill me? I mean, if my time is up, I guess I can’t really do much to stop the outcome. But… why does that voice sound so familiar? I swear I’ve heard it somewhere before– No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be. There’s no way. This can’t actually be who I think it is. Just because their voices are similar doesn’t mean anything. God, Paul, you must have really gone mad this time.
After a pause that lasted longer than intended, I reply to the “ghost”, “You sound quite like someone I used to know. He used t’ be very important to me.” I quickly shake my head. I can’t let my guard down when a literal ghost stands right in front of me. I look around to see the producer of the sounds from earlier as I wait for the ghost to respond.
There are three picture frames on the ground that the ghost must have knocked into while it was trying to figure out why it was drawn to this place. Fear still resides inside of me as I pick up one of the framed pictures. This memory in particular always brings an immense amount of sadness within me, no matter how hard I try to forget about it.
Before I can think any more about the moment that this photo beholds, the ghost effortlessly glides to my side, staring directly at the photo. It mirrors the sad smile that’s on my lips. A soft chuckle escapes it as it turns away slightly; a playful sound, familiar now in a way I could hardly fathom. It’s almost as if a spark had returned to the eyes of the figure—something lost that had been found. A purpose that has finally been fulfilled against all odds. I see the look and feel my eyes widen, dropping the photo immediately. I try to grasp onto the ghost, but my hands phase through its hazy form. The realization of who is finally in front of me again hits me and I can’t believe my eyes.
I break the tense and emotional silence by whispering, “Finally. I- I thought I’d lost you. After all these years, I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d never hear your voice again. I'm so, so bloody sorry that I wasn’t able t’ protect you then. I know what I’d said to you wasn’t enough. I wish I’d really told you everything face-to-face.” Tears silently roll down my cheeks as I try to process the impossible.
The ghost’s smile becomes softer, and it nods. “Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong, love. It’s a miracle that damn picture w’s there… it’s all comin’ back to me now. I jus’ wanted you to know that there’s nothin’ you could’ve done to prevent what’s happened. Ya did nothing wrong, really. I love you, Paulie.” It takes me a moment to process all these words and everything revealed to me in the span of seconds.
I try to make contact with the suddenly familiar face in front of me a second time to no avail. I can’t live like this—in this miserable life without the one I love. Not when you’re standing right in front of me. I can’t go through losing you again now that your purpose is fulfilled. I know that you’d want me to live happily without you, but I can’t. I can’t bear to think of a life without you. I tried so hard to be happy for you. I pushed through every day to try and find my purpose again, but nothing ever worked. Nothing will ever work. Only now do I realize that.
Now that I’m with you again, I can’t miss out on this opportunity. I can’t ignore the ache to feel your touch again, to feel the love you used to pour onto me like sunshine. Despite all of your flaws and all the things you’d put me through, you were still my true love. The pain these past few years have brought me has opened my eyes to your importance. My mind races as I try to find a solution so we can be together again. This can’t be the end—I won’t allow it. I will do anything to be with you again, to wake up seeing the warmth of your rare smile that never failed to make my day perfect. I couldn’t have imagined looking at it again these past few years, but now that was all I wanted.
As I began to narrow my options down, I felt that something was terribly wrong. The ghost in front of me looks down at themselves as bright particles start to appear in the air. Their body was disappearing, right in front of me. My eyes search for a solution, looking around frantically for something to fix this. It was like torture watching you fade away. I let you go once, but I just can’t let you go again. You mean too much to me.
The ghost speaks up, voice now seeming more faint. “...S'pose my time's up. It was lovely seeing you again, Macca. Jus’ be happy without me. Live for you. Don’ think about what “could’ve been” or any o’ that rubbish—focus on your future. Ya’ve already made it big, so ya won’t need me, ya know? I’ll always be lookin’ over you, love.” A sad smile forms on the ghost’s face as they begin to fade faster and faster. Time is running out. Think Paul, think. You’re not some daft idiot, are you? Shouldn’t there be a way to fix this? Millions upon millions of possible solutions fill my head—so fast it felt as if my head was close to exploding—but all of them seem impossible…except one.
Numbly, my body takes a mind of its own as it directs me up the stairs and into the kitchen. There are plenty of utensils in here, but only one interests me at the moment. I grab a cold and dangerous weapon. There is no going back. I rush downstairs as the ghost has only a quarter of their body left. There is only one way to be together.
I angle the sharp kitchen knife towards myself as my hands shake. I’ve got to snap out of it. There is only one way to be truly happy. Without you, there is no point in living. You mean more to me than my own life. Pressing the tip of the knife right against my chest, I see the shock of the ghost in front of me. Finally, I can be happy. Finally, we can be together again, just as we always should have been. Through a tearful smile, I speak for the last time: “I love you, John.”