The Nonbeliever

If somebody were to find a person talking to themselves, they would probably think: a) that person's crazy b) that person needs some help c) Why is that person talking to herself? d) arguing with oneself is not a great way to show that you're sane. I had a hunch that those were some of the things that people thought as weird looks were shot at me as they walked by. Of course, I wasn't talking to myself, and I wasn't crazy. And then again... I knew what those people were thinking. I sifted through everyone's thoughts as I talked to the young man. He seemed nervous, looking around like he was waiting for something to happen. "So... what do you need me to to?" I asked, unsure of his purpose. I was puzzled by his jitteriness, always so nervous. "To just..." --he looked over his shoulder, like someone would be listening, and leaned in-- "...tell her that I'm all right. She lives in town, down on Pine Street. Her house is bright yellow and orange. You can't miss it." I nodded my head slowly. "Okay... and what's this girl's name again?" He looked over his shoulder once before whispering, "Halli." I nodded, pretending that his behavior wasn't odd at all. "Thanks." He said quietly, and then nodded at me once before getting up, and looking behind his shoulder, ran straight through a wall. I could hear his surprised yelp at the sensation at going through walls, and then he was gone. I sighed, shaking my head. Yep, I talk to ghosts. I'm a necromancer. And a psychic, but that's only reading minds. Ghosts usually find me so that I can go find specific people from their lifetime to tell them something. Trust me, I've read people's thoughts when they've opened their door to find a seventeen-year-old standing on their porch telling them that this person who died wanted you to know this and that. It wasn't the best of jobs, but it worked. This ghost that I'd just encountered wanted me to go contact his girlfriend and tell her that he was all right. Which was going to be awkward. I was only seventeen, and I'd been living on my own since two years ago, just going around helping ghosts. I got up from my table, brushed off my pants, and headed outside. I hopped into my black truck and turned up the heat. I shivered, rubbing my gloved hands together. I put my car into reverse and made my way down to Pine Street. I'd been here before; another ghost wanted me to talk to their grandchildren about some box in the attic. Always glad to help the youngsters get into more trouble. As I pulled up next to the house and got out, a strong wind blew. I shivered violently. I narrowed my eyes. A powerful wraith was here. I had to get off this road quickly if I wanted to avoid an encounter. I marched up to the porch, and knocked on the door. A woman answered the door, dark brown hair up in a bun, a long dress on. She shivered as the wind blew harder. "Yes?" she asked. "Hi, is Halli home?" I asked, my teeth clattering. She started at my light emerald green eyes and pitch black hair."Oh, yes. Here, why don't you come in? It's freezing out." she bustled me into a nice, warm living room with a crackling fire. "Take a seat. I'll be right back." She bustled up the stairs, and then came back down a minute later. "She'll be down in a moment." she said kindly. She took a seat. "Are you Halli's mother?" I asked, rubbing my hands together. "I'm Sisca Frank, by the way." She shook my hand. "Yes, I'm her mother. I'm Allison Carter. Are you one of her friends? I haven't met them all yet. She's just bringing them in by the tons." She laughed softly once. I hesitated, and then said, "No, I was a friend of Peter's. But he told me all about her." I said quietly, looking at the floor. Halli's mother wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh. I'm so sorry, sweetie. Were you close?" I shrugged halfheartedly. "Yeah. I mean, we talked once every while. I knew him from some time back..." I sighed. "Oh, Halli's taken it so hard. She just can't let go. His death took a great toll on her... I've been so worried." I nodded once. Halli came down the stairs. I looked up at her. She had light brown eyes with deep chocolate hair which flowed down her back in cascading waves. She looked at me, confused. "Mother? Who's this?" She asked warily. I smiled halfheartedly at her. She glared back at me with bitter scorn. I had to keep my friendly but sad composure on, and not turn into the tough girl that I usually was. "Honey, this is Sisca. She was a friend of...Peter's..." Allison murmured. She looked at the floor. Halli's eyes brimmed with tears. She sat down next to me. "He was fine before that! He and Carson were the best of friends! And then... then Carson got angry at him because he started dating me and..." she sobbed, crying into her hands "... and then Carson got drunk and stabbed him!" Her tears flowed freely. She kept on sobbing. I turned on my sympathetic nature and rubbed her back slowly. Very slowly, her tears began to halt. The phone rang, and her mother got up to get it. Halli smiled at me, her eyes red. "I'm sorry, Halli." I said quietly. She didn't say anything. I took a deep breath. Now for the hard part. "Halli, I have a message for you." She looked up at me, confused. "He wanted me to tell you something." She looked even more confused. "He wanted me to tell you that he was all right. That he crossed over safely." Her confusion turned to fury. She stood up quickly, her hands clenching into fists. "YOU IDIOT!" She screamed at me. "DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'M THAT DAMN STUPID?! MY BOYFRIEND DIED AND YOU COME HERE TO MAKE FUN OF ME?! YOU ARE SO DAMN LOW! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! I HATE YOU! GET OUT!" She grabbed my coat and shoved me off the couch. I stood up, dusting myself off. I got this a lot. Now I just had to hold my cool. I looked at her coolly. "Well, I'm sorry for you. And maybe you'll someday realize what I'm saying is true. Sorry." I started walking out the door. "What happened?" Allison asked as I opened the door. I shrugged, my eyes hard. "She didn't listen." I said, and shut the door behind me. I walked to my car and drove down the road. Some people just couldn't accept the fact that the ghost of their beloved would contact somebody else. Or they just thought that people like me were wackjobs. Either way, it was their loss.

That one wasn't my favorite... but pretty good, me thinks. That's all, folks!

Mason :)>