The Ghosts

I bundled up against the cold in my uncle's old flannel coat, smelling of oil, and my beaded antique gloves my grandmother gave me. It was quite a ridiculous match, actually. But I live in a town of less than 400 people, and I was only walking the four blocks to the gas station to get a loaf of bread.

The wind was blowing mercilessly, the overcast sky looked bleak and grey. The cold air chilled me straight to the bone almost instantly. Whiping at my jacket, stinging my face, and working itself deep into the folds of my coat, the wind spoke of an oncoming storm. The clouds agreed and I pulled the hood up and clutched my arms around me.

I first saw the ghosts a block away from my home. They had been there the whole time, but my thoughts were lost in the pain of icy wind on my skin. But now they held my full attention.

My steps slowed as I felt the full effect; there was a total despair and hopelessness in the air that I had never felt before in my life. Complete and utter hopelessness, such as can only be felt by those trapped in a world of grey, with no way out, no color, and no light.

I could see them... plain as day. And it was still daylight. It wasn't an hour after dark, with mist on the ground in a cemetary. That's what ghost stories usually tell of, but no... no, this was at six in the evening, with only the clouds to cover the sun, yet above the horizon.

They were everywhere... everywhere! For as far as I could see to the edge of town, they filled the air. They floated several feet of the ground, suspended in the air by nothing. They were all in tones of grey, no life, no color to even their clothing. This clothing was torn and shredded, hardly enough to protect against the cold still whipping at my body. The wind seemed also to tug at their shrouds, biting at their ankles, which were just above my head.

They weren't moving. They just hung there, woefully moaning in despair and pain. I struggled to move on... to force my feet to keep taking steps. I was scared, though danger to me seemed unlikely. I don't really know why I was afraid.

But I was.

Terribly afraid.

And yet... enthralled. I could not help but be intruiged. There were more ghosts here than I had ever seen in one place at one time. What were they doing here? Why was I seeing them?

I've sensed ghosts before. I can usually walk into a house and tell the owners if their house is haunted. Easier to do at night, of course. There's a reason midnight is called the Haunted Hour.

But this was different. Very different. I continued on to the gas station. Inside was warm and alive... the people were living, breathing, full of life and vitality. Outside, I could still see the dead.

And no one else could.

After I got the bread, and a five cent piece of candy, I emerged into the cold, dead air. I pushed on, the cold wind driving me home. I tried to walk swiftly, but the ice on the ground hampered my movement somewhat. I walked as quickly as I could, however, with the wind to my back.

And all around me they hung, mourning in the winter air, the most dejected, hopeless looks on their faces. Most of them were women, and seemed young, though they could have been any age, what with the grey tones and ghostlike presence.

About two blocks or so from my house, I heard a young girl. It sounded like a cross between shouting and screaming. I froze in my tracks.

Fear was thick in the air; my own, and more. I forced my feet to keep moving, but I scanned the area intently. The sound had come from near my house, and I was hoping it was my youngest brother yelling at the neighbor's dogs or something.

It wasn't.

He was asleep and my other brother said he hadn't heard a thing. I was shaking. Mostly from the cold, but also from what I had just experienced.

They were still in the air at two in the morning when I brought the dog in.

They were gone the next day.

I still don't know why they were there or why I could see them. The moon was not at any special phase. It wasn't a special day or even time of day.

But I intend to find out.