Lit. Device Short Story

I always knew I was different. I never go to school anymore. I never hang out with friends on the weekends. No one even acknowledged me.

Whenever I was around, everyone was frightened. They always had scared looks on their faces and let out horrified screams. You would have thought I’d have been a little curious why this always happened, but I never thought much of it.  

My room is my favorite place. I do all of my thinking and reading here and sometimes I just enjoy the stillness of everything. Hardly anyone ever comes in my room, but when someone does they just sit on their knees and weep. I never understood why people were always crying. And if my room, makes people so sad, why bother to come in it in the first place? My parents work full time every day anyways and are barely home, so why bother to waste time crying? And besides that, my room isn’t a mess or anything. It looks like any other room in the house! My bed has bright, colorful sheets that are tucked in perfectly on the sides. Next to my bed is my nightstand with a purple lamp on top. My walls are painted a brilliant blue and have shelves holding books, pencils, paper, binders, etc. I just couldn’t understand why my room made everyone so sad! Looking back on it, I never realized that my room wasn’t the issue. It was me.

The first time I was suspicious was when my parents were having a conversation in the kitchen. See, I always wanted to join their conversations but I hate talking. I had nodules a little while ago and I’m always a little scared to speak, for fear I’ll damage my throat, so I just prefer not to. I’m also extremely shy and I haven’t talked in a long time. But this time was different.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I walked into the kitchen and sat down on a wooden chair in the dining room. My parents walked in and immediately sat down, arguing. I was very curious, so I stayed and listened to what they were saying.

Mom said, “It happened over a month ago, I know you’re still grieving, we all are, but you have to forgive yourself,”

Dad replied, “You wouldn’t understand! You just couldn’t understand,”

“It was the other person’s fault, not yours. There wasn’t anything you could do to stop it,”

“I could have protected her. I could have tried harder,”

And that’s when it happened. In a hazy blur, I was thinking back to something. But not just any something, no, for some reason this was important, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I was so curious that I forgot about just listening and said, “What happened?”

My throat started to hurt and I thought they hadn’t heard me, probably because I sounded like a mouse.

But I tried again and asked, “What happened?”

My throat felt even more sore and I thought I was a little too quiet again because they kept on arguing throughout their tears.

I began to worry and shouted the best I could, “What happened?!”

They immediately stopped and Mom shouted, “What was that?!”

They ran out of the room and locked themselves upstairs. I started to cry. Big tears streamed down my face. They didn’t even want to hear me speak. I decided not to speak again, at least not now.

I walked upstairs, quiet as a mouse, to hear what my parents were saying. I leaned on the door and listened.

“I told you we shouldn’t have bought this house. I always thought there was something off and look where we are now! ” My mom whispered.

“Our house is fine, we’re still grieving and are just hearing things,”

Still grieving? Weird house? All these thoughts swirled around in my head. I couldn’t concentrate anymore and went in my room.

A few weeks later, I was at the library in the back corner reading a book. The back corner is where the big, red comfy chairs are and where the new table was in place. The windows were always opened so I always felt a cool breeze ruffle through my hair as I enjoyed a new story. The walls were also painted a new shade of brown and had that new paint smell when you first sat down. Anyways, every time someone would walk over to me, I’d set my book down and look up to see who it was. Then, they’d just scream in terror and run the opposite direction. It’s as if I was some kind of monster! At least I got to finish my book. When I got home, I went upstairs and sat down on my bed. I decided to pick up another book, hoping to take my mind off of everything.

Later that day, I walked downstairs and started towards the living room when something caught my eye. I turned and looked into my dad’s office where a magazine was laid out on the desk. My dad never reads magazines anymore, so of course I had to see what he was reading. Then, Mom walked downstairs and I froze in my tracks. I wasn’t supposed to ever go in my dad’s office so I was hoping she wouldn’t get mad. I thought I was completely silent, but the floorboards creaked underneath my feet.

My mom started sweating all over and called out, “Who’s there?”

I was going to respond, but then I thought she knows I’m right there. I started to walk back and knocked a beautiful, brown, brand new vase off of the shelf. Boom! The vase shattered all over the floor. I raced over to clean it up, hoping Mom wasn’t mad. However, Mom was more frightened than ever now!

I thought she was just upset I broke the vase, so I forgot about my sore throat and said, “Mom! I...I’m so sorry, I’ll clean it up right away!”

That’s when Mom lost it. She jumped up, screaming at the top of her lungs, and ran away as fast as she could. Again, looking back on this, I should have realized it was more than just a dumb, broken vase.

I was going to go check and see if she’s okay, but Dad beat me to it so I decided to go back and check out the magazine. I walked into the office like a ninja, stealthy and quiet. I was sure no one could hear me, I was so silent that you could hear the pitter patter of the rain banging on the windows from across the hall. I walked up to the magazine and I couldn’t believe my eyes. The title of the magazine was: Car Crash Victim.

It was an ordinary day like any other. It was the middle of July and we were experiencing a heat wave. I was in the backseat while we were driving home from lunch and got caught in traffic. It was just Dad and I in the car because Mom had to leave early for a doctor's appointment.

“Thanks for lunch Dad,” I said.

“No problem, where are you going later today again?”

“To the mall with some friends,” I replied.

“Ok, I’ll try to get you home quickly,”

The cars started to move a bit and a new song started to play on the radio. I looked out the window and squinted my eyes through the bright sunlight. My attention then turned to the back window and I saw a car, racing in and out of the lanes barely missing the other cars. Two cop cars were close behind, lights blaring and everything.

“Dad, what’s going on with that car?”

He adjusted his mirror and looked to what was going on. His confused expression already told me what he thought. I wasn’t very worried, until the car got closer. And closer. And closer. And closer. Soon, they were almost right behind us. I was shaking all over, holding my seatbelt tight and keeping my head down low, not wanting to see what would happen. The driver lost control. I peeked up and saw the car swerving in circles. It was tearing side mirrors and scratching any car that was in it’s way, and the worst part was it was swerving towards us. I ducked down low again, trying to think good thoughts. Bam! Everything went dark.

That’s me. I was the girl who died in the car crash. I started to shake all over and dropped the magazine, but something caught my eye. Underneath the title, it stated that the magazine was published three months ago. And that’s when I realized, no wonder I seemed so invisible. It’s because, I am invisible. Screams when I’m around, no one hanging out with me, my parents crying in my room, it all made sense. I’m a ghost and didn’t even know it.