In The Bloodstreaked Dress

I reached out, for the seven hundred and sixteenth time. The little girl strode forward towards the park. The lingering confusion clouded my face again, but this time it came along with a deep sense of depression. No one seemed to be able to see me, or hear me. They did not even respond to my touch. No Way, it couldn't be! A sense of panic overwhelmed my mind. I waved my hands aloft, seeking another man's attention as he jogged past me. But as I had feared -- he did not see me.

  Nothing actually made sense. It was six o'clock sharp in the evening, I remembered, I was at the square gazing at the town clock. Out of the blue, a blinding light blasted onto me. Its temperature was blazing, which hurt me for a second. Blood spilled everywhere from where I stood, staining my white satin dress a dark scarlet design from the bottom up, just like an April rose, but much darker. Snapped out of my daze, I looked around. A blue car was a few metres away, its driver frantically staggering out with a drunken look on his face. A girl about my age was lying on the ground, lifeless as a statue. I spotted several similarities between us. Black curly locks, a white gown stained in crimson, full lips, all exactly similar to mine. I felt a shock passing down my spine as I realised the truth, falling to my knees. It...it was me. I had had an accident, I was dead.

  'GIRL'S TRAGIC DEATH IN ACCIDENT', the headlines in the papers blared. That newsstand used to be my favourite spot in town, but now much despised. I paced the streets all alone. This loneliness soon felt familiar to me somehow. When my legs finally started to feel sore, I rested at the railway station, watching people living their lives and sighing how miserable mine had turned into.

  A young man came and sat down next to me one time. His movements seemed casual as I peeped in his direction. "Hello," he said, which sounded like a whisper. It was in fact the simplest choice of words one can pick while starting a conversation. I turned to face him, only to see the young man staring at me, his eyes gleaming with a thousand tales, a twist on his lips. He was talking to me-- he could see me. The word 'how' sprang up in my mind almost instantly. As I felt my ashen face start to blush, a wave of shyness crept up to me unexpectedly. For a moment I wanted to run away, feeling weird to face someone who could see me. What a paradox. For the last three days, I had been attempting to seek attention everywhere, but now, I felt like burying myself in an abyss.

  Johnny, the boy who had noticed me, was a partial nuisance. He would follow me everywhere, asking me questions, telling me stories. Was he a ghost too? I chuckled at the idea. I could not deny that finally, I had accepted myself for what I had become. A ghost. Most of the time I tried to keep myself alone or hang out in the library or the park. Perhaps I began liking the surrounding silence, or perhaps I wanted peace. My dress was mosaicked  in red and white, it could not be taken off somehow. Mother was alone now, I went home to see her occasionally, but it hurt my heart having to see her sewing curtains for a living.

  Sometimes I allowed Johnny to keep me company. Well, at least some of his stories would eventually cheer me up. I felt the flush on my cheeks when he complimented my eyes. He said they were to put the stars to shame each night. He seemed rather affected by me. But I was dead. How could I love him, a living person?

   One breezy evening Johnny took me to the riverside. The sun was setting, its rays shimmering on the water. In the soft sunlight, our cheeks had turned rosy. ''Please......" he trailed off, looking as nervous as never before, "I need you to hear this.'' My heart beat like a giant's footsteps, butterflies were fluttering in my stomach. He confessed his feelings for me. My heart dropped. I knew my answer would be an evident 'NO'.

  I led him to the town's graveyard immediately. The fastest way to explain my rejection was to show him my grave, as I could not bear to say the cutting words. The sun had dyed the sky tangerine and crimson. I heard my glass heart crack and shatter into pieces as we came to the place. Underneath a pine tree, we found the gravestone with my name carved on it. 'LUCY PRICK'. I signaled to Johnny my dress that was streaked with dried blood, hoping that he would just turn around and go away. Tears fell like a broken string of pearls, streaming down my cheeks, which were once rubicund but now pale as ash. Go! Run away! Be afraid of me! I screamed in silence.

  Yet, Johnny remained. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the East yard. A tall grey stone stood there all by itself. It read: 'JOHN CULAS'. My mouth fell agape. Teardrops continued their journey to the ground. "Didn't you notice a hole at the back of my shirt?" he asked in the same whisper he had used on the first day we met. Robbers had stabbed him when they robbed him five months ago. He had bled to death in the back alley. That explained why he could see me. I pulled him close, tears moistened my wan lips which then twisted into a smile.

Written by,

Euan Thum.

Edited by,
the respected Mdm. Cheah Sweet Moi, who has guided me in English for 4 whole years.

Inspired by,
Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams (Note: photos featured are screenshots from the music video), Lana Del Rey's Summertime Sadness and a 'heartbreaking' ghost story Mdm Cheah showed my class

Note: There's no moment in my life which have felt more 'sunset' than penning this article.