Waiting a lifetime the w.., p.1
Waiting a Lifetime (The Waiting Series Book 1), page 1
Waiting a Lifetime
- A Waiting Series Novel -
Samantha Peterson
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Copyright © 2016 by Samantha Peterson
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Printed in the U.S.A.
Prologue
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to see ghosts. For a seventeen-year-old girl me, Sunny Siebel, I guess that’s not a huge amount of time, but for me it is. I haven’t seen anything terribly horrifying or anything, mostly harmless spirits that haven’t been able to move on for one reason or another.
People of all ages, sizes, races, and genders – most of them waiting for someone to help them move from this world and on to the next, because they aren’t sure how. In most cases, they are holding onto something that is keeping them here, in the Living World, and they don’t even realize it.
I haven’t told my family about my gift yet. I’m not even sure I would call it a gift, just an ability that I have. Either way, I’m not sure my older brother, younger sister, or dad would understand. They haven’t said anything about being able to see ghosts either, so I don’t think they would even believe me if I told them.
If mom was still around, I think she would have accepted and loved it. She died when I was really young, but we were close when she was still alive. Back then, I didn’t know how to explain to her what I was seeing. I know that if I had told her, she would have thought it was amazing.
Maybe she would have asked me to introduce her to some of the friends I’ve made because of my gift.
I don’t think about it much anymore, though. I realized a couple years ago that wishful thoughts aren’t going to bring her back. And that’s all it is: wishful thinking. I’ll always miss her, but wanting to tell her won’t make the secrets easier to deal with or take away the guilt of not telling her in the first place.
I love and hate being able to connect with the dead. This ability has allowed me to communicate with people still wandering this earth, and give them company while they wait to move on. I have done everything I can to make sure they are comfortable and content.
The only problem is how cut off from the rest of the world it makes me feel. I tend to relate and socialize more with those of the deceased than anyone still alive.
Eventually, they disappear. It’s why I try not to get too attached, but most of the time I can’t help myself. Some take years, while others take weeks, but each ghost has their own time to leave this Earth.
I hope they finally are able to move on and find peace, but I haven’t the faintest idea. I’ve never seen them vanish. Which is why when I first saw him, I didn’t realize what I was getting into, but I’ll never regret it.
Chapter 1
My arms folded casually in front of me while I take my time watching the red and orange leaves being blown around by the wind. Each gust creates its own mini tornado and fills me with the excitement of knowing it is fall.
Leaves are crunching beneath my brown boots with each step I take. I’m walking home from school on a chilly November afternoon, the same as every other school day. I take a deep breath and I can smell the earth preparing for the coming winter. Fall has always been my favorite season.
I take the same path home from school I’ve used the past three years of high school, and I love stopping to greet a lonely spirit or two on my way. No matter what happens at school, talking with a spirit seems to comfort me as much as it does them. It fills me with purpose when my life seems to be drifting by somewhat meaninglessly between home and school.
Every day, there is one person I have to visit on my way home: there is a little girl that was killed by a hit and run. She lingers on the sidewalk in front of the drugstore where she lost her life. It is difficult to miss, and easy for me to stop and visit her for a bit.
I don’t always have a lot of time to spare, but I try to take a few moments to say hi and ask how she is doing when I walk by. It makes me sad thinking of anyone dying that way, but especially someone who is so young.
Normally, I walk home alone, which makes it easier for me to stop and chat. Ian, my older brother, has college classes and tends to get home well before I do. My sister, Lana, is in middle school and released after me. Dad picks them up before coming home from work.
This gives me ample time to give a couple lonely spirits some company. This one is who I usually spend my time with on my way home after school, though.
This girl is so sweet. She didn’t deserve the sad end that she received. It breaks my heart a little every time I think about it. There was no justice for her death, from what I can tell. She was only six when it happened, so her spirit has remained that age throughout the years.
She is stuck here in the Living World, and doesn’t even know that she is dead. That is how most spirits are when I find them waiting to pass on. Like her, they don’t even know they are deceased.
She keeps waiting, thinking her family is going to come get her and finally take her home with them. I can’t help but wonder how long she is going to wait…forever?
Will she be able to hold on that long?
Either way, I don’t think letting her know that she’s dead is the greatest approach.
She’s too young to understand what happens when someone dies, from what I can tell of our conversations. I’m, also, not sure how the process of passing on works.
Would telling her she’s dead help her move on or upset her, making her want to hold on longer?
Whatever the possibilities, I simply hate seeing a small child having to go through so much pain every day. I hope she can move on soon, so she doesn’t suffer from the pain that waiting brings. I wouldn’t wish that sort of demise on my worst enemy.
That’s a lie, I might actually wish that on my worst enemies if I had any… Still, waiting for loved ones for years upon years with no reprieve…
Anyway, I’m especially excited to see her today, because I had an idea at school that I believe will make her wait a little less painful. We made paper flowers in art class today. I thought it would be a perfect little gift for her, since no one seems to visit her besides me. At the accident site, anyway. I, honestly, don’t know if she has a gravestone in a cemetery somewhere that family visits.
The paper bouquet would show her that someone cares about her. That someone is thinking of her while she waits. I have visited every weekday for the past three years, and I haven’t seen any family or friends come to pay their respects.
There is no tribute to her like you would normally see at tragic accident sites of beloved individuals. So, I think that the flowers will help put her restless soul at ease, at least for a moment.
I round a street corner, bouquet of paper in hand, and see her sitting on the sidewalk watching passersby. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, and her eyes are darting back and forth quickly.
She is looking for her family – anyone she recognizes to take her home. It is the same picture every week. However, this time she seems more agitated and frantic than before. It worries me a little bit, but I walk up to her anyway.
What harm could it do by saying ‘hello’?
Maybe I could help her feel better.
I’m about ten feet away and I can see the chain attached to her chest about where her heart would be if she were still alive, but the chain is broken. It is lying limply against her body and on top of her lap, and is about two feet in length.
This isn’t out of the ordinary, though. I’ve seen all spirits have this broken chain attached to their chests. It is only broken when the spirit can no longer return to their body. Otherwise, the chain stays connected to the body itself.
I call it the Chain of Fate, but I honestly don’t know what it is. Just the wild guessing of an uninformed teenager – one who happens to be able to see ghosts.
The closer I get, the more I notice that she seems abnormally anxious and edgy today compared to yesterday. She’s sitting on the curb with her arms tightly squeezing her knees, and gently rocking back and forth with her toes.
Her eyes are wide while they rake the growing crowd as they, unknowingly, pass. I make a mental note not to bring up her agitation, though. I don’t want to make the seemingly endless waiting any worse for her by adding confusion to the mix.
I don’t know what happens if a spirit becomes angry and violent without being able to calm down. I have ideas, and many nightmares, about what happens to ghosts who can’t move on, but in reality, I have no idea.
“Sunny!” she calls to me, seeing me walking towards her and waving cutely, as only a child can manage.
Smiling at her, I walk a little faster in her direction. Visiting her every day seems to be a relief for her. She relaxes a bit seeing me coming. The anxiety lines on her face are wiped away by my presence.
“Hey little girl!” I answer back, pretending I don’
A few people walking past me turn and look at who I’m talking to. They can’t see any little girls around, but I have learned to ignore that sort of reaction. Seeing her smile makes all the whispers and stares worth it.
“I told you to call me Becky!” she giggles, knowing full well I’m joking with her.
I close the gap between us and sit on the curb next to her, mimicking the way she’s sitting.
“I know, I know,” I say, playfully.
She changes positions so she is on her knees next to me. We are almost at each other’s eye level that way.
“Did you have a nice day today?” she asks.
I nod before responding.
“I did, thank you! How about you?”
She becomes slightly somber, and hesitates before responding to my question.
“It’s okay, I guess…” she pouts, but I’m not sure she realizes it. “I just wish mommy or daddy would come get me. I’ve lost count of how long I’ve been here.”
It’s my turn to be sad. Being able to see her, and other ghosts, makes me feel lonely since I don’t know anyone else who can do the same, but it isn’t even close to the seclusion and isolation she must be feeling.
I mentally kick myself. I need to be more positive. Nothing I feel can compare to what this six-year-old girl deals with on a daily basis.
“Well, I’m here!” I cheer, trying to change the subject to something happier.
“Yeah!” she says halfheartedly.
She still looks somberly at the cement between her knees, with a fake smile adorning her lips.
“And guess what I brought you?” I hint, my tone playful.
“You brought me something?” Becky wonders aloud.
The fake smile dissipates, leaving her features almost entirely blank. There is a hint of excitement in her eyes as she looks at me, and it makes it difficult for me to keep my secret from her.
“Of course!” I exclaim, like it’s the most obvious statement in the world.
The pedestrians start to dwindle the longer our conversation continues. I don’t even notice the crowd thinning with how engrossed in this little girl’s excitement I am.
“Why wouldn’t I bring my favorite little friend something special?” I announce.
Her face brightens. It fills my heart with joy I haven’t known in quite some time seeing the genuine happiness in her eyes, and the turn of her lips. Hopefully, this present will make it easier for her to be here alone until she can pass on.
Extending the bouquet of folded paper flowers without thinking, she squeals with pleasure. Before she grabs them though, I pull back quickly. I forgot that she won’t be able to grab them since she has no physical body.
I don’t want to be the one to inform her she is dead. The guilt would be crippling. I have no idea what would happen if a ghost finds out they are dead before they are supposed to, and I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.
“You know what…” I state, making sure the flowers are just beyond her reach.
The disappointment on her face almost breaks my heart, but it has to be done.
“Why don’t I put these in a safe spot where you can look at them all the time and they don’t get lost?” I continue. “How does that sound?”
I look at her, unable to read the expression on her face. It is several seconds before she speaks.
“That’s a great idea!” she cheers, jumping to her feet.
Her expression shows more excitement, and my heart practically skips a beat. She runs into an alley behind her and I watch her acting like a child, skipping happily. I wait for her to come back so I can tease her a little before following.
It doesn’t take long for her to realize I’m not behind her. She reappears, looking around the corner from the alley, staring at me.
“Well, come on, Sunny! I have the perfect spot for them!”
I giggle and follow after her. For someone who is definitely dead, she has so much life still inside her. I want to help her hold onto that part of her for as long as possible.
The alley is darker than I anticipate from the tall buildings blocking any sun from coming in on either side. It is only large enough to me to stretch my arms out to either side, so there isn’t a lot of room to move around but the two of us don’t need much.
Becky is already halfway towards the end of the alleyway, so I pick up my pace. It only stretches about twenty feet, but I can’t help trying to catch up to her. Her excitement is contagious.
She’s practically glowing with joy and I want to soak it up. It’s as if she has her childlike energy back. I want to keep it going for her as long as possible before I have to head home.
“Come on, Sunny!!!” she calls to me.
I smile after her and jog to where she has stopped, near the back of the alley.
“Where’s this special spot you have in mind, Becky?” I ask her.
Her eyes brighten even more hearing me call her by her name this time, like she wasn’t sure until now that I really did remember.
She squats close to the ground and points into a small hole in the building’s wall. I walk toward it, and gently place the paper flower bouquet into the hole for her to enjoy for as long as she is stuck here. I just hope she won’t try to pick them up.
I stand up slowly, knowing I have to go if I want to get home before anyone notices I’m not home yet. Sighing, Becky pouts knowing that I have to go away again.
“Will you come back again tomorrow?” she whispers, looking at her feet.
“I sure will!” I reply, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“You promise?”
She looks up at me with hopeful eyes that pull at my heartstrings and make me tear up.
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” I vow. “You have to promise me that you’ll leave the flowers alone, though.”
“What?” she pouts.
I even see a couple tears in her eyes.
“Why?” Becky asks.
“They’ll fade away like real flowers if you touch them!” I say, making up a fantastical story that, hopefully, she would believe.
“So, they’re magical flowers?” she cheers.
I nod, smiling.
“Oh, yay!” she continues. “Thank you! I promise I won’t touch them! They’ll stay right there!”
“Good!”
I leave her in the alley as she smiles at the flowers. Taking a moment, I look back at her before leaving the alleyway behind me and see that deep sadness fall upon her face again. I can’t help feeling like I failed to bring her peace of mind with my gift.
I hope her sadness won’t consume her.
Hesitating, I watch her stare into the hole where the flowers inhabited for a moment.
I take a big breath and let it out in a deep sigh knowing there isn’t a damn thing I can do to make waiting easier for her. Regretting every step, I leave her to her sorrows and begin the rest of the journey home for another lonely evening.
Chapter 2
I get home a few minutes before my dad and sister, so no one will notice my prolonged absence. Walking through the front door, I spot Ian on the couch in front of me, staring at the television and playing his video games, as is usual for him.
Why dad doesn’t just cave in and get him a TV for his room is a mystery to me. None of us are able to use the living room with him always controlling the television.
“Hey Ian,” I call to him.
I’ve always had a quiet timbre around anyone who isn’t a ghost, so I wait to make sure he heard me before leaving him alone. It isn’t unusual for me to be told that I’m too quiet. It’s worse when he is really into a video game, though.
“Sunny,” he acknowledges with a small nod.
Since he became a legal adult a few years ago, 21 now, he has been extremely distant – as if he is too good, or mature, to be friendly with me. We used to be two peas in a pod, but that’s changed. He started to be very cold and distant when he turned 18, though.
At least he acknowledged me for once.
Most of the time he doesn’t even do that anymore.
I walk past the living room where Ian has commandeered the TV, up the stairs, and straight to my bedroom. We each have our own room, but I am the only one who spends most of my time there. I close the door quietly behind me, and retreat to my bed with a book – one of the usual paranormal thriller types.
