Walk Me Home

The alarm that was supposed to wake Patrick on the 20th of February in the year 2019, was set for 6:30 in the morning. However, he was up long before the dreadful beeping echoed through his room. This wasn't unusual for the man, though it wasn't normal either. It was somewhere in between.

That could even be used to describe Patrick's life. He was in between life and death in a way that most people aren't. See, Patrick could see the dead. Some would be in awe of the ability, and some would be frightened of it.

Patrick was in between.

On one hand, there were wonderful spirits that only wanted company in the afterlife or that just wanted some help relaying a message to their loved ones. On the other hand, there were those more malicious spirits that just wanted to torment Patrick and others during their afterlife.

Patrick didn't mind either way.

Except for times like now at 4 in the morning on the 20th of February in the year of 2019. Times when some poor soul would just appear in his bedroom moaning and groaning about being dead.

Patrick was a light sleeper. He would wake at the sound of a feather touching the ground. So, the second the newcomer entered his room with no sound other than a quiet sigh, he was up and looking around wildly only for his eyes to land on the poor man that was standing at the foot of his bed.

Patrick tried to be polite, really he did. So, he made sure his eyes stayed away from the gaping hole in the man's head. It was more difficult than he cared to admit, but who could blame him. Patrick cleared his throat calmly and kept his flinch at bay when the man's cold, dead eyes snapped to his.

"I'm sorry to be a bother but, is there any way we can wait until the morning to talk?" Patrick was polite. He knew he had to work on it though, as he was reminded constantly by his friend that someone could take advantage of that kindness in an instant. The ghost looked at him with irritation in his eyes and he cleared his throat.

"I have a message for someone." Patrick sighs and sags into his bed. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into his covers once more and sleep the last few hours he had away. He supposed though, that the man didn't care and just wanted Patrick to help him.

"May I ask who the message is for?" The ghost eyes him as though trying to figure out if Patrick could be trusted. Patrick rolls his ocean eyes at the look. "I'm the only one that can help you, so if you'd like the message to be delivered, I do actually need the name of the person you want it to be delivered to." The ghost seems to give in at that point and nods as if accepting the answer that Patrick had given him.

"Her name is Margaret Sharpson. She's my wife." Patrick feels saddened at the words. It was always sad to find out who the ghosts needed to talk to. Their family was left not knowing anything about what had happened to the deceased.

That's where Patrick came in.

Delivering messages to the deceased relatives was what he did. He would take the message given to him and find the living person (in some cases a pet) and deliver it. Then, the ghost would be satisfied and disappear into the afterlife to wherever they deserved to go.

There were some that refused to move on and would annoy Patrick and others in the afterlife.

Patrick got lucky and only has one such spirit. Her name is Marina.

"I need you to tell Margaret that I love her and everything's going to be alright." The short and simple request would stick with Patrick, and even if it didn't he knew Marina would help him remember.

"I'll do what I can," Patrick promises, watching as the man finally disappears for the night.

"Why don't they ever ask you to fun things?" Patrick sighs and sinks into his bed, closing his eyes and trying to drown out the voice of his constant companion.

"Like what, Marina?" Patrick slits an eye open to gaze at the now materialized spirit just as she shrugs her shoulders and floats gently across the room and to the foot of the bed.

"Like taking a sibling sky diving or taking a grandmother to the zoo!" She exclaims, throwing her hands up and looking to the ceiling. Patrick just shrugs and presses himself deeper into his bed.

"I'm not sure, why don't you ask them?" He inquires, knowing that she probably would do it if she could.

Marina couldn't call up another spirit and ask them these things. When they disappeared, they went somewhere else and there was no way to contact them unless she or Patrick really tried.

"We're not in some office in the sky waiting around with each other for the next poor human to pick up an Ouiji board or call up a medium. We don't ever see each other really." She had explained one evening. It was odd, but Patrick had found that the statement made him sad. They were alone no matter what, and Patrick was really the only one they could talk to.

Marina scoffs and crosses her arms over her stomach.

"Because for some reason, I always miss them when they're here." She fumes, looking absolutely furious with the world and herself. Patrick can't help but chuckle and he closes his eyes.

"Maybe you need to be better at sensing others." He mutters, finally feeling sleep start to latch back onto him.