The Last Judgement Series: Part 5- The Ghost
I feel the palpitating beating of my heart fluttering out of control, and as I breathe in the frigid air, my chest tightens as I lose my grasp within the terror. I really did believe that I was having a heart attack, and I thought, if I did die from it at least my dad would be there—I think.
I only caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye, but the image that is now forever pierced into my mind was reason enough to believe that there was some unexplained force in my father’s house. I violent chill ran up my spine which added even more shivers to the ones given to me by the extremely cold weather. I looked again to the only surviving mirror in the house—and he was still there—waiting for me to come and speak to him, and watching me react to the ghost of my father.
I walked closer to the slightly faded image as he began to extend his arm out towards me. He carefully stepped out of the long wall mirror and stood there waiting for my body to inch closer to his presence.
“Dad?” I asked as I stopped my procession three feet away from the ghost.
He didn’t answer, but he managed to understand my question and nodded, yes.
“Dad, what happened here? Was this really an accident like they said?” I looked into his lifeless eyes and waited to see if he would speak, but he said nothing. How was it that I was going to get any answers if he couldn’t talk to me? I mean, I did hear him over the phone didn’t I?
And that’s when it hit me.
“Call my cell phone.” I pointed to my phone and waited for him to move, or do something, but he just stood there. I started to wonder if it didn’t work that way, or maybe if he just wasn’t allowed to.
“It’s okay, we’ll figure something out.” I said. I started to walk out of the badly burned house when he appeared mystically appeared in front of my path to the front door. He walked closer to me, and at this point I was terrified. My heart started beating quickly again, but he just kept on with his approach. He pointed to his throat and then got close enough to me to touch my forehead. The touch was icy cold and it fell on my skin more like a mist than a solid finger. He waited for my response and I just nodded yes in return.
I guess my dad was going to speak to me through my thoughts? I didn’t understand at first. That was until I fell asleep after I went home later that night.