The Making of a Ghost- Sierra's Story for the Week

Alexa stared at the dark man wielding the knife. She knew her life was over before he raised it to her neck. She knew it by the way he smiled at her. His eyes held a far off look, like he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing someone else entirely. She held her breath as the sharp instrument sliced through her skin. The blood trickled from her neck.

His hot breath bared down on her, suffocating. She hoped it would end quickly, praying for quick release from this monster’s grip. He pressed the knife into her throat, but not hard enough to end her short life. Please, let him finish it. Why was he torturing her like this? She didn’t understand. If he wanted her dead, why didn’t he just do it?

She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look into his smiling face, his yellowed teeth bared to disgust her. His palm crashed against her cheek and she whimpered. “Look at me when I kill you. Do you hear me?” His voice was loud and gruff. She tried to protest, to keep from looking at him, but he wouldn’t allow it. His fist made contact with her jaw. Her eye throbbed from the pressure building underneath.

“Please! Please stop!” She begged him for mercy and he was happy to oblige. The knife slit through her throat. The last sound she heard was his chuckle.

All went silent around Alexa and darkness engulfed her. Where was she? Was it over? She felt her legs moving, walking forward in the darkness. Finally, a light appeared before her. She stumbled toward it, her knees trying to buckle. She fell forward with a thud, her knees scraping the unknown substance of the ground. She saw the light flicker and tried to move towards it, but her strength was gone. Her eyes fluttered closed and she succumbed to the darkness.

Alexa woke with a start. Where was she? The ground was cold and wet, the sun barely shining through a mass of heavy gray clouds. She could hear singing in the background and turned to see where it came from. Her family stood dressed in black, in a half circle around a coffin. Her mother brought a tissue to her eyes while her father pulled her closer into his arms.

Alexa was intrigued and crept closer to watch her funeral. It was larger than she’d expected. The preacher talked of green pastures and still waters. Alexa wished it were true. She wasn’t standing in green pastures right now. She stood, actually hovered, in the middle of a cemetery while her family grieved. She couldn’t even comfort them.