Being Dead

Normal.

Just plain 'ole normal.

That's just what I hate about myself.
In fact, I hate almost everything about myself, except for the fact that I could draw, and write stories and such, okay.

Then there was the fact, that I was pretty much scared of everything.
The dark, old dirty houses that they say are haunted, thriller movies, and so on-- just name it.

Then, several days ago my class all went to a school field trip to an old historical place. I don't know what it's about though; seeing how I was too busy talking with my friends. It was the beginning of school, and we had a lot to catch up on from summer vacation.
My mom AND dad decided to chaperone. Oh no, talk about embarrassing, right?
I think it was a good idea, now that I look back on it...
but at the same time, it was a really bad idea.
The class ended up walking near this old, 'haunted' century’s old house.

"They say a serial killer dragged a lot of their victims here, and chopped them up to pieces." The teacher joked. "Then, the bodies would be so small; all you could see was a pool of blood."

My parents gave a look of disapproval to the teacher. Girls squirmed in disgust while the boys were being their stupid selves and were daring the other one to go in the house. In fact, the Teacher said that she'll give our extra credit if someone's brave enough to go in and look around for a couple seconds.
This is middle school. This is eighth grade. This is the year when boys are at their peak of stupidity. Then in ninth, they become 'men' and get even more immature and then perverted.

Well, anyways, I tried to be brave for once, and decided to go for it. I jogged quickly to the front porch, ignoring my parents' shouts of protest.

"Mia, get back here." Mom called, and I could feel her waves of anger being directed at me. I didn't care-- I was trying to be brave for once anyways. So how do you get braver than endangering your life, with the killer being your own mother?

"Mia Eun-Gyo Kim, get back here now!" My dad said my whole name. I'm Korean. I'm Asian. You got a problem with that?

Ahem. Anyways, back to the story;
I opened the crooked door, which moved really slowly and roughly. They walked in, to find the place broken down and shabby. There were a lot of holes in the wall, and the glass window next to the door was cracked and so dusty, I could barely see through, if it weren't for the upper half it missing glass already. Then a movement caught my eye, but I didn't turn fast enough to see what it was.

Please don't be some kind of rat... I thought, grimacing. Then looked back out the window, waving my hand a bit to show the guys that there was nothing in here. Then it all went downhill from there.
A couple girls started screaming, and a few boys were trying to yell over it.

"Hurry Mia!"

"Get out of there!"

"Monster!!!"

I heard the front door slam shut.

I have been forced to see too many thriller movies to know something bad was going to happen to me. Except, it was worse than what I had expected.
I tried to turn around, but something slammed into me, from the side of my face--like a hand. This caused me to crash against the window, and shards of glass flew out. My head felt like it was about to implode--or explode, whichever you want to put it.
The world started to totter, and spin, as I felt a large searing pain on my neck. I screamed as loud as I could, and I knew it echoed throughout this house. I knew everyone outside heard it.

Then it all ended.

The pain.

The feelings.

My screaming.

My life.

I didn't realize it at first, and I don't think I saw it coming...
But when I woke up, I was floating in the air. I realized I was still in the house, and I saw a person at the window. His hair was dark, and messy, coming well past his shoulders. He was also standing in a dark pool of blood.
Fresh blood.

My blood.

I screamed again, and I could tell that it was a like a low moaning sound, echoing around the house. The man--my killer-- turned quickly around, his crimson eyes wide.
"How are you...?" Then he stopped and started smirking. "I see.... you're just a ghost now." I could tell he was about to laugh maniacally.

Glancing back at the window, I saw my body torn to pieces, and my decapitated head near the door. My legs were sprawled a feet or two from my body, while my arms-- I couldn't even tell that they were my arms at first.

"Why won't you go, 'Rest in Peace'? There's nothing you can do now. You can't communicate with the living." He started striding towards me, but somehow I knew that it wasn't exactly me he was walking to, it was the back door.

"But you can see me. You can talk to me." I frowned.

"AH, but my dear." He grinning, revealing his pearly white fangs. "I'm the undead, and anyone like me wouldn't ever even take notice of you."

I wanted to hit him. I just wanted to...
I want to be alive again. Please!

He walked right through me, and I had a tingly feeling but I turned around.
"You killed me." I stated the obvious. "You killed me, and..... and..."

The vampire stopped and leaned against the wall, raising an amused brow.
But I couldn't think of anything right now. So as fast as I could, I hurried over to the door that was now being opened, to reveal my teacher.

"No!" I yelled, trying to keep her from seeing the terrible mess of my corpse. "No! Turn back! Get the police! The vampire hunters! Anyone but you, or my parents or the other students!"

But I don't think she heard me as she kept proceeding. She turned her head to the now bloodied and broken window, and saw my body. The teacher didn't even make a squeak of a sound as she dropped to the ground. I would usually be trying not to laugh if this was ever to happen to a teacher, but I couldn't, and I wouldn't.

It was merely a couple hours before the police came.

For some odd reason, I couldn't leave the house at all. I could go upstairs, and to the other rooms, and to the backyard and into the small cemetery-- but never outside of the fence in the back, or out on the porch.

From the upstairs balcony--which I could go on-- I watched as a TV crew came, along with newspaper reporters, friends, and family. They all cried for me.
My mom fell to her knees, crying and crying for me.

"I'm still here!" I yelled. "I'm still here!"

But still, no one heard me. No one ever knew who killed me, and why they did it.

"It was a vampire!" I would shout.

Then it all settled down after a few months. I saw some people I knew--even strangers I didn't know-- bring me flowers, and stuff.
I saw that on my birthday during winter, my older brother came and brought me this huge bouquet of roses and lilies--my favorite flowers-- and even a little bracelet.

I tried talking to him, but he didn't hear me either. After he left, I took the bracelet in my spirit hands, and put it in the small drawer I found upstairs. I can hold simple, small objects, but I could never touch people. Or anything alive for that matter.

I never knew that being dead sucked this much. I've read the book, by Vivian Vande Velde, and I thought it wasn't so bad, but it really is. To the points I can't explain. I was so cold all the time. So lonely, and afraid.

Please... anybody.... save me... I prayed to myself. I didn't even know how to 'move on' like they say.

It’s not by choice. I'm stuck here because I was killed by a vampire... or something.

Then I saw b}another one, during early spring.
The snow had just begun to melt, and then I just knew that there was a vampire just outside of the house. I don't know why, but I just did. He entered the house, opening the door with ease. This one was very good-looking, much more than the one who killed me.
He just gave a small smile at me, taking notice that I was there.

"You shouldn't be in here." He simply said, sitting down against the wall that stood opposite of the window. I hated that window. "It's not safe."

"Can't you tell that I'm dead?" I asked in a meek voice, walking up to him. I actually noticed I could float or walk on my own a few months ago, during my times of loneliness.

The vampire looked at me in a strange way, but then shrugged. "I can't tell nowadays. Seeing how I'm one of the undead, I see both the living, and the dead."

I frowned at him. Then took notice of how white his skin was, and how dark his eyes were. The other one, that killer of mine, had pink skin, and crimson eyes. It was because he just fed on me. I nodded to myself.

"You haven't fed for a while, have you?" I asked, floating cross legged in the air.

"Yes, how is it that you know that?" His dark eyes still held a light in them-- a kind light.

"You're too pale... and you're eyes they're like.... they aren't red." I finished lamely.

He nodded, "Yes."

"You don't speak much, do you?" I glanced away.

"Where did you learn of such?"

I rolled my eyes, "I'm pretty sure it’s obvious." I tried not to throw something at him, for my anger against vampires flickered dangerously high in me.

"Not about my speaking..." He paused, "I meant about the traits of not feeding."

My frown deepened, "Because it was a vampire that killed me."

I can't really say that he went paler, because I'm pretty sure that pure white is as pale as one could get, but his eyes went wide and I could tell his mouth almost parted open.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.

I looked towards the window, continuing on. "He killed me over there, slamming me against that window."

"I'm sorry." I heard him whisper again.

"Why?" I asked. "You didn't kill me."

"...I know who killed you." I saw pain in his dark eyes--I saw my own, shocked reflection in them-- and he gave me the same cruel smile as before.