Seeing Ghosts
Prologue: Aaron

Doyou believe in ghosts? ‘Cause if you do, that would really help.

Myname’s Aaron. I’m twelve years old. I’m gonna be twelve years old for a longtime. For however long it takes, really. I’m not gonna get any older. You see,I’m a ghost. Seriously, a ghost. I’m not some freak in a sheet who yells ‘boo!’at people. I’m not some grisly, blood-covered skeleton with flesh hanging offand empty eye sockets. That’s just gross. I’m pretty much the same as I was asa kid but with one key difference. I don’t have a body anymore. That’s it.

Iget it. You’re probably jumping to all sorts of conclusions about me already.You must think that, since I’m a ghost, something really horrible must havehappened to me. That some psycho snuck into my house and killed me in my sleep.Or maybe one of my parents poisoned me or beat me for misbehaving. Or maybe Ijust hung out with this really awful crowd.

That’slame. I got sick. I didn’t get better. End of story.

So,why am I here? Pretty easy. I chose to stick around. It’s not that I was scaredof the afterlife, of going to heaven or hell. It’s not that I had ‘unfinishedbusiness’ or whatever the psychics think up. I’m here because I wanted to help.Because I hoped that, if I chose to stick around, there’d be a lot less ghostsin the world.

It’snot that I’ll never get to move on, either. If a ghost serves a good purpose inthe Shadow Life, then they move on to heaven. If they’re bad, they go . . .well, elsewhere. Some souls chose to become ghosts before they move on to seeif they can clean up their act if they had a crummy life. If a person dies whois comfortable with the life they’ve lived, they just go straight on. If aperson has lived a life of evil, and I mean pure evil, like really, really,really bad, then they don’t even get the option of becoming ghosts. Theyjust, as they say in the board game, ‘go directly to jail’. Do not pass ‘Go’. Donot collect $200.

Istill remember my life. I remember who I was, where I lived, who my family was.I lived in Montana.I was born in 1983. I had parents, Roxanne and Carl, or Mom and Dad to me. Ihad friends. I went to school (not that I was any good at it). I was a normalkid. I liked sports. My favorite color was green. My favorite food was mashedpotatoes and gravy. I like the Star Wars films (seriously, they’re awesome!). See,a normal kid.

Still,there were a few things about me that was kinda different. I was one of thetoughest kids on the playground, but I wasn’t a bully. I liked sticking up forpeople. I hated bullies. So, whenever I saw one picking on other kids, I’d jumpin and take over the fight.

Butdon’t think I won every time. I lost to them a lot. It’s a miracle that I died the way I did, rather than died fromblood loss from a grisly wound in one of my fights. Even though I lost a lot,people still hailed me as the toughest kid. Why? Because I kept coming back.Even if I had two black eyes, a bloody nose, and the skin scrapped off myknuckles, I still fought. I wouldn’t stop until I blacked out. Even then, thefirst thing I’d ask when I woke up was “Where is that big, fat moron!? I’m notfinished with him!”

Thosedays are over though. The winter I turned twelve was a bad year. Lots of snow,lots of cold, and I didn’t have the strongest immune system. I got pneumonia.Mom and Dad took me to the hospital, but it didn’t do any good in the end. Icouldn’t get better. I died. Mom and Dad were heartbroken. It sucked.

Iremember the day I died pretty well. Instead of waking up in my hospital bed,where I’d fallen asleep, I woke up beside my bed . . . looking at myself in my bed. I didn’t mistake itfor a dream. I knew what happened the moment I saw myself in that bed. I didn’tcry or feel too mad about it. Pneumonia sucks. I was kinda glad to be rid ofit. It was just too bad that I had to get rid of it by being dead. I stuck around and watched as Momand Dad came in and realized that I wasn’t breathing anymore. Mom cried. So didDad. They cried a lot. I wished I could cry too. I couldn’t for some reason.Maybe because I wasn’t really feeling too sad. Yeah I was depressed, but not really sad.

Ikinda wandered around for a little bit while my parents cried over my body. Itwas kinda weird. I could walk through walls, but only if I wanted to, so Ididn’t sink through the floor. I couldn’t see myself in a mirror. I wished Icould have. That way I’d know if I really did look like some kind of zombie. I really didn’t want to be a zombie.Before long I was getting bored and kinda anxious. Why wasn’t I going anywhere?Why were there no angels or Grim Reapers coming to pick me up and take me to .. . well, anywhere? It wasn’t until a few hours later when Mom and Dad calledin a priest to read my last rights did something happen.

Iwatched the priest read scriptures over my body and say all these blessings. Hewasn’t an old guy, maybe mid-thirties at the most. He had black hair and browneyes behind those tiny little glasses that people wear when they read. Spectacles, I think my Dad used to callthem. Then, when he was finished, he ushered my parents out of the room. Theydid so, crying a lot. Finally, when my body was alone with the priest, heturned and looked right at me (and I mean me-the-ghost-me) and smiled.

“Well,young one,” he said. “You’ve yet to move on to the next life, I see.”

Iblinked. “You can see me?” I asked.

“Indeed,yes,” said the priest. “You have a very strong spirit, my child.”

“Isthat supposed to be a pun?” I asked.

Thepriest laughed. “I’m sorry, my child. I meant no offense. You seem abnormallycomfortable with your current situation.”

IfI had shoulders still, I’d have shrugged. Instead I just kinda made the motionwith my spirit shoulders. “Well, it’s not like I can do anything about it, canI?”

“No,child,” he said, sadly. “There is nothing you can do.”

“Shoot,”I mumbled.

“Well,what would you like to do now?” the priest asked politely.

“Idon’t know,” I said, irritated. “Aren’t I supposed to . . . I don’t know . . . go somewhere? I mean, you’re the holyman, here. Shouldn’t you know what comes next?”

“Certainly,I know,” said the priest. “Right now, young man, you have entered what somerefer to as the Shadow Life. Still present in the realm of the living, but notalive.”

“ShadowLife?” I asked, nervously. “That’s not like . . . limbo or something is it?”

“Itis sometimes called that,” said the priest. “It has several names. “Limbo” and“Purgatory” are some of them.”

“Ithought purgatory was for evil people,” I said, now getting pretty scared. “Iwasn’t that bad, was I?!”

“No,no,” said the priest, kindly. “Not at all. You’re a young, good, strong-willedboy and have done nothing evil. Sometimes people feel they’ve done evil. Ifthey do, they stay in the Shadow Life to atone for their sins.”

“Doesthis mean I have something to atone for?” I asked.

“Notreally,” said the priest. “Every human being in the world is guilty of somesin. It’s what makes us human. Only the Son of God is perfect.”

“Okay,”I said, slowly. “So . . . why am I . . . not going anywhere?”

“Becauseyou have a choice,” said the priest. “You can stay in the Shadow Life or youcan move on right now.”

“Whywould anyone want to be a . . . well,what I am?” I asked.

“Tojustify their sins,” said the priest. “To make up for lost time. To protect theliving. To see the end of damnation. Many reasons.”

“Protect?Damnation?”

“Yes,”said the priest, now looking grim. “The veil between the Shadow World and theRealm of the Living is thin. Sometimes their paths cross. Some things from theShadow World are evil and try to harm the living. It is spirits of the dead,like you, who can put a stop to those evil things. You can fight evil.”

“Whatkind of evil?” I asked.

“Thereis always evil in the world, dear boy,” said the priest, darkly. “The livingcan do only so much to be rid of it. But, as a spirit, you cannot be tainted bythat evil. You have the power to aid in it’s destruction. Will you do this, orwould you rather go on to the next life? The choice is yours.”

Whenthe priest asked me that, I was dumbfounded. I’d heard ghost stories when I wasalive, but this? I thought he wascrazy. Still, there’s something . . . interesting about the idea of fightingevil. Like I’d be Superman or something. I mean, only superhero’s fight evil,right? I was really, really into the idea. On the other hand, it might havebeen better to play it safe. Being a ghost would probably be really tough.Well, things couldn’t be that muchworse, could they? What’s the worst that could happen? I’d die? A little late for that one.

Igave the priest my answer.

Isaid yes.

So,here I’ve been for the last twenty years. Well, not in the hospital, exactly.I’m able to move around because my body was buried in the priest’s (or I guess,Father Harrison is his name) churchyard. At my funeral, he said a prayer overmy body that allowed me to wander free as far from my remains as I want. Whenhe said that prayer, he spoke to me (I mean ghost me) and told me that one ofthe first things I needed to do was replace someone who could see me, just like hecould. He said I needed to replace that person and stick with them. The person whowould be able to see me would be a clairvoyant, or a person who could clearlysee and communicate with ghosts. Father Harrison was one, that’s how he couldsee me at the hospital.

Aghost needs a clairvoyant in order to stop the evils that hide in the world.The things that Father Harrison sent me out to rid the world of as best I can.If I can replace a clairvoyant who would help me, if I could help in the fightagainst evil, then I could move on having fulfilled what I stayed behind to do.Twenty years I’ve been breezing through city after city, town after town, totry and replace the right one who would complete my mission in the Shadow Life.

So,do you believe in ghosts? ‘Cause that would reallyhelp.