The Girl Who Was Buried in Her Ball Gown

Finally, after many weeks, Martin was going home! Everyone was happy, except for me. Since that day – those weeks ago, when Martin had begun to recover – he rarely spoke with me, although he did talk to me from time to precious time, but he couldn’t hear me respond, or see me anymore. Of course he couldn’t, he was becoming more conscious day by day; which was great, but it carried a bitter sting for me.

For me, his recovery time was the hardest time I could ever remember. One minute, I was on a high that he was recovering and the next minute, I was falling into despair, because I was losing my only contact with the physical world. He was becoming someone I could never have.

Once I had laid my head on his warm chest and just listened to the sound of the warm blood, flowing through his beating heart; the dum dum, dum dum. Suddenly, my eyes filled with tears, so many tears that it was a wonder his hospital gown wasn’t soaked. I laid my hand over my own breast but there was nothing; I was empty, dead. Oh, I already knew I was, but now I really knew. So many thoughts rushed into my crazy–muddled mind, I literally gushed with those invisible tears, tears that no one – but me – will ever know about.

We shared some funny moments too, even moments he was not totally aware of. One night I had to giggle at him, I was so glad he didn’t know about that moment, or maybe he did. It was when he was asleep, dreaming. Now, I have heard of boys having wet dreams before, but I really was ignorant of it when it actually did happen. Another learning curve for me as a ghost.

I could see where his pecker was poking up from under the sheets and I felt a little guilty, yet curious! I tried to have a tiny peek at it, hidden away innocently under the covers. Emma! Thank goodness though, that I couldn’t see much of him under there, it was way too dark; no light to light him up. Lucky for him, I thought! I’m sure my face was bright red though and it was another wonder that that wasn’t enough to light up his, umm, member under there. Who was to know of my mischief anyway?

Suddenly I got such a shock, as he began speaking my name out loud! Oh my gosh! And by the look of his lips they were puckering up for a kiss, while he spoke. I had a wicked thought, amidst my emotions that were running hot. Shall I kiss those perfect lips? Well hey, I’ve only ever had one kiss so why not. Anyway, when I pressed my lips up against his, oh! I was sure there was a tingly buzz that passed between us.

I know that I liked it and the next morning, I found something out when the nurses where changing his sheets and also, his ‘gorgeous’ hospital gown, not! He must have liked my sneaky kiss too! Even though the sheets weren’t due to be changed for at least another day, they made some lewd comments and were giggling, about how a certain person must be recovering well, and how he was full of testosterone, just like he was supposed to be, especially at his age! Little did they know that they had a guilty visitor, eavesdropping on their personal jokes at his expense! My Martin was the butt of their jokes! Oh well, it’s good… but I was sad! Martin’s parents came, wheeled him to the car and then he was gone.

Only the lonely, walked the corridors again, haunting. Was I haunting? Sure, some people may have seen me, but no one minded. I wasn’t scaring anyone but I was still there. Oh, I had popped off to see my family from time to time. Only I hadn’t popped out, to show myself to them. That chameleon girl had done that a few times though; I knew her plan. I knew what she was doing now, leading people into believing it was me. Why? She was still visiting Jason in the institute for the insane; talking with him about stuff he had done, or that had happened to him as a child. He was constantly shaking and on medication. He yelled back at the wicked girl, telling her to piss off!

Not only her, but a false Adrian came up too, every now and then, reminding him about his little affair with Michelle. That would usually send Jason into a panic and he had to be knocked out with a sedative jab, from the nurses, a couple of times so he wouldn’t harm himself. It was sick to see them working on him, breaking him down bit–by–bit, sending him loopier than ever. I really felt for him but I didn’t know what to do.

Once, I had just had enough and needed to get away, so I went to somewhere I had never been before; Australia. I don’t know why, I just wanted to do something different, have a change of scenery. Dad always said, ‘a change is as good as a holiday’. So, I popped into the transition room of mirrors and paused at one mirror which looked really bright and reddish looking and so, in I went.

Oh no! Not another stupid turn. I found myself in the hallway of a burning building and I was immediately in excruciating pain and agony. My whole body was screaming in a mad panic and out of my throat ripped a pure guttural-tearing, non-human shriek.

Flames were licking through my whole body and soul. My bowels felt like they were exploding and seeping acid; my eyes felt like they wanted to burst with the searing heat, spraying eyeball juices wherever I turned to look. The stress and the shock nearly ripped me apart. I screamed, “What the hell is this?”

Have you ever heard of someone being ‘driven up the wall’? Well, I found myself clawing at the walls to try and climb out of this, whatever it was, but my mind was beyond reasoning. I couldn’t control my limbs; they were thrashing about like independent windmills, spinning out of control. I threw myself through a wall and found myself in a bedroom. I could still feel the heat through the wall and the smell of the acrid, smoke still filled my nostril’s, but at least I had a chance to recover from that shocking pain.

The smoke in the room, was so thick that I nearly missed her completely. There was a girl, a little younger than Nikki in the bed and she was sound asleep. Oblivious to the waves of toxic death hovering above her head and the horror that lay beyond her bedroom wall. I screamed at her to wake up but she didn’t budge; I had to cause my imploding smoke to make me appear before her and quickly!

“Wake up! You’ve got to get out of here!” She stirred and rolled over onto her back. “Get up, get out of here!” This time I tried not to yell, I was in control. I can do this. “Come on angel, wake up. Please! You need to get out of here.” Her brown eyes flickered open and at first, she was startled but only for a moment. She was a pretty little thing, with brown wavy hair, that looked like it could easily be kept under control, unlike my wild red, crazy clown hairdo.

“Who are you?” She asked, half asleep.

“Just a friend. Look, darling you have to get out of here okay.”

“Why?” She didn’t know what was happening just through the other side of her wall.

“Look I’ll tell you what, let’s play a little game. Pretend that your house is on fire, what would you do?”

“Well, I would have to get out I suppose.” Oh, such a cute accent, so innocent.

“Very good. That is right. Now…”

“What’s that smell?”

“Smoke honey. That’s why you have to get out of here.” I couldn’t keep myself under control for much longer, I knew she wouldn’t have long before the smoke would poison her and I was getting agitated. I wanted to scream at her to get out. However, I knew that would only complicate things. “Now come on honey, get out!” She flashed her beautiful brown eyes at me, in surprise and then got up and started for her door. “No honey! Not that way! Climb out your window. Hurry!” And she did.

As she turned toward the window she looked back over her tiny shoulder and asked, “Are you an angel? You look like an angel. You sure are beautiful.” Oh, cute! Don’t die… Please. I’m absolutely positive that I blushed.

“No honey, I’m not. I’m not sure what I am. Now go!” And she climbed out of the window, she was safe. I followed her to the mailbox, where I saw her hysterical mother running for her, arms and mouth open wide.

She picked her up, yelling at the firemen who had only just arrived. “Oh Emma! There’s my girl. Is Zac with you?” Wow! She had the same name as me, but who was Zac?

“No, he’s not.”

“Zac! Get Zac out please! ZAC!” She was trying to shove past the firemen but they were stopping her. I knew I should go in again but the pain was blinding. The fear nearly froze me in my tracks. No! I needed to do this and without thinking I jumped back into the inferno.

The pain seemed even more intense the second-time round. However, I felt I was in control for a change, but only a little. I screamed in defiance as the pain lapped all over my body again, while I passed through all of the rooms, trying to find Zac. Suddenly, I stopped in a gap untouched by the searing flames and thought, What the hell was I supposed to do when I found him anyway? Sling him over my shoulder and carry him out? Punch a hole in the wall, so he could escape? I felt so stupid! Or, will I just have to stand there and watch him burn? What a fool I was! I couldn’t even open a stupid door in my state.

So there I was, in this temporary flame-free gap, not knowing what I should do. Up on the wall I saw a mirror; aha, an escape! And that was when I heard it. On the other side of the flames, over to my right. I heard someone whimpering and a howling. A howling? It was a distressed call through the flames, crying out a somewhat... ‘Help me!’ I made my choice, and in a mad-frenzy, I leapt.

As soon as I gained my balance on the other side of the flames, I could smell the slight stench of burnt hair. Oh, the poor thing! He looked adorable. He was in such a stressed-out state though, jumping up and clawing at the door, trying to break free. Moaning in amongst his pitiful growl. It was such a hopeless sight, looking down at the golden cocker spaniel, who couldn’t even jump to my knee-height. His poor floppy ears looked like they had been singed by the flames, but he was alive and well; for now!

I thought, this must be Zac? What can I do now? I made a grab for the door, but as expected, my hand passed through it; I couldn’t grab anything! I tried to bash the door, the wall, anything, but my clenched fists simply passed through it all. I wrenched at my hair in despair, “Why can I grab my stupid hair, but not this beautiful little dog?”

Zac looked directly at me with his big puppy-brown eyes and I could see the flames that were reflecting in his eyes, behind me. Yes, he could see me, but that only made it worse. He sat down on his haunches as if to say, ‘Come on, can’t you help? Can’t you do anything?’ Then he put his little head down on his paws; had he given up? I thought he must have. I couldn’t even stroke him to comfort him, as he passed through his world into mine.

I rubbed my eyes as they filled, yet again with stupid, hopeless tears. But then the fingers! Those fingers of light. I remembered them from the gravestone, and there they were again. They were creeping toward me and speaking to me, saying, “It’s all right Emma. I love you both.” They touched me!

They wafted down like a feather, upon my palms and burned them! Not a flame-type burn but something different, vibrant, life–giving. My hands became heavy as lead, as if I didn’t have any hands at all, until that moment. “Go on, open the door.” That is what the voice said next and so I did. I pivoted on my heel and reached for the key in the lock and then turned it. I heard the click! I turned the knob and pushed open the door. Zac leapt up and ran out of the door, barking for dear life and then I closed it again. I don’t know why I closed it, but I remembered someone telling me once, that you should shut the doors and windows if there is ever a fire inside. That way it will slow down the flames, because they’ll run out of oxygen and die out sooner.

My hands lost the lead–like weightiness in that moment; and afterward, the fingers were gone. What is that? No, I think the appropriate question would be, who is that? Inside my heart, I think I knew who He was.

I passed through the door and it was dark outside, apart from the fire engines, splashing their red lights all over everything, cast their urgency and presence up against the big trees around me and up the outside walls of the burning house. I saw some firemen running about with their hoses and two silhouetted figures standing by the mailbox. One was wrapped up in a blanket and the other was the girl, barefoot and in her Barbie nightie. They were embracing, laughing and crying all at once; oh and there was yapping too, plenty of happy, ecstatic yapping!

Over to my right I saw Emma’s curtains in the window of her bedroom, they were aglow with orange, from the flames in the room. They lashed and raged out of control. Suddenly I heard the shattering of glass as the window exploded, and hot shards pelted all over me and around me, reminding me again how the heat could really hurt, even a ghost.

That was when I heard Emma say, “There she is Mummy, the angel.” She was pointing at me and I saw her mother’s trembling hand come up to her lips, she waved at me with her other, unsteady hand and mouthed to me a genuine ‘thank you’. I was in tears again. And so was she.

It was funny too, because Zac jumped around and ran straight toward me, with his tongue lolling in and out. He jumped up at me and through me, just like Tim had done at my birthday. And then Zac landed past me confused, yet still yapping happily. It was the sound of doggy laughter, passing through his canines and I felt good.

I was happy, the happiest I’d ever been in my whole life, well, death actually. Yep, the happiest I’d ever been in my whole death. I was abuzz for days after that and finally decided to go and find out how my own family were doing; and more importantly, how Martin was doing.