Leave Me Alone 

Once there was a woman who was half a ghost, caught between two worlds.

     Captivatingly beautiful but near translucent. Barely tethered to Earth, her skin pale and parched but her eyes alive and knowing.

     Her home was a mansion with twinkling chandeliers, floor to ceiling windows and glossy marble floors. It was shiny and new but she never left the square box of her bedroom, which also happened to be an exhibit.

     The tour guides acted like they owned the place, happily sharing her inaccurate business to the rest of the intruders. They claimed to love her but they didn’t know her. None of them had ever met her. They simply liked being in control like all the other people in her life.

     The half-ghost remembered how it was in the beginning. Her dream of stardom finally came true. The glitz and glam and hearing her name chanted was magical.

     “I can’t believe it.” She gushed to her seamstress as she took her measurements all those years ago. “It’s so surreal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

     The seamstress hemmed and hawed, moved from her back to her front to measure her hips. 

     Hating the silence, she kept talking. “I wish I could say my parents were proud but they only cared about the money. I’m glad I’m not living paycheck to paycheck at least. Not that anything’s wrong with that…”

     The seamstress moved her arm into position like a puppet. She admired herself in the mirror on the pedestal, the lights added to her glow. She was the prettiest she’d ever been, maybe they would make a Barbie of her next? The beginning of fireworks sparked in her belly at the thought of a child’s eyes lighting up when they saw her doll on the shelf. How much would the royalties be? She’d have to mention it to her agent.

     The measuring tape snaked around her neck. The half-ghost remembered stiffening at that moment, not because of the tailor’s tape around her throat but because she noticed the lines blur again between genuine and vain. It was getting harder to distinguish between the two. Day by day, something almost sinister seeped past her skin to her heart and soul. A battle she wasn’t equipped for.

     The seamstress paused to look at her. “What is your name?” 

     It was an odd question, surely she knew. She had become an overnight icon, embedded in childhood memories and conversations. “Mari—”

     “Nevermind.” Her tone was sharp and the seamstress's gaze flickered away, the pools of her eyes had sought something else. Disappointment with underlying sadness etched into her wrinkles. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t lose yourself.”

     The half-ghost hadn’t lost herself. In fact, she tried to intentionally deviate off course until her team stopped her. She liked acting, but she always thought she got herself this far, how much further could she go? Maybe back to school, become a teacher, a fashion designer, or even a chef. Now, in her room, it was clear whose energy was pure and who wanted to extract more from her. 

     The clock ticked to the beat of her boredom. She had a lot of time to sit with her thoughts which were usually stuck in an indecisive loop of wanting to stay and wanting to go as if she had a choice in the matter. She gained her freedom in this room and simultaneously sealed her imprisonment. 

     A knight in shining armour could not save her and loving herself yielded no difference. Even the purest form of love she had for her forever unborn child wasn’t enough. It was pointless to ask for help, the rare few that saw her ran in fear. Her theory was people had to stop visiting which seemed impossible to put to the test. Though a visit from God would be lovely, wouldn’t he have arrived or whisked her away by now? If and when it ever happened she’d be sure to request to rest not in peace, but paradise. She was still a celebrity after all. 

     Another intruder barged into her room to take what they wanted or sell to the highest bidder. Material things were useless, in due time a cheaper version of it would appear.

     One intruder was different from the rest. Her hair was golden like hers used to be. This intruder was not a saint by any means but at her core, her empathy was intact amongst the vanity of the majority.  

     This intruder stood silently as her two plastic friends explored her room with greedy hands. 

     In a fit of built up rage the half-ghost yelled, “You want to have it all? Well here!”

     The closet flew open to reveal her wooden dresser of memories. They gasped in delight and dug into her old pictures, vintage dresses, heels and pearl necklaces. They tossed aside what they didn’t want and stuffed the rest into their designer purses.

     “Oh. My. God.” The girl squealed, raising the pink sparkle studded dress. “This is the dress.” She brought it to her heart, twirling around. She feigned a persona, tossed her hair dramatically. “Diamonds are a girl's best friend," she sang.

     The half-ghost’s shoulders bunched and tears pushed at the back of her eyes. They always wanted more. It would never be enough. She slumped against the doorframe and slid to the floor. There was nothing to do but wait until it was over. Moments like this made her not feel real, like a character, a toy they paid for. Was that what she was made for? 

     “I’m going to try it on.”

     “What? No, you can’t.”

     “It’ll be fine. Hey, can you keep watch?”

     The golden hair girl shivered and rubbed her arms, eyes darting between the hallway and her friends. “Hurry up. It’s freezing, aren’t you guys cold?”

     The dress stretched with the sound of ripping threads. “Damn. I didn’t know she was this skinny.”

     Her friend snorted a laugh. “Or you’re just fat.”

     Finally, she slipped into it, admiring herself in the mirror. She looked over her shoulder at the large pink bow at the base of her back. 

     “Wow, you look incredible. Do the pose.” She demonstrated, hands on her thighs, chin up with eyes aglow. 

     She copied her, adjusting herself for each click of the phone camera and bit her lip to look sexy. 

     “Okay let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.” Unlike the other two, she had no interest in being there. So you could imagine the half-ghost’s surprise when the woman returned on her own the next day. Her hesitant knock pushed the ajar door open.

     “What do you want?” The half-ghost muttered beneath her sequined blanket.

     The woman sat on the bed beside her. Her eyes were soft and pure. For now.

     “I want to help you,” the woman said. 

     The half-ghost let the blanket slide off her shoulders. “You can’t. You being here is hurting me.”

     The woman slouched. “I guess you’re right.” Her frown broke into a dimpled smile. “Maybe I can tell your story?"

     The half-ghost recoiled with a groan and ducked back under the blanket. “No. Not again. It’s my story. No one will ever truly know it like I do.”

     "I promise I'll tell it the right way this time so you can be free.”

     The half-ghost released a bubble of laughter as if it was that simple. “Free? I’m not allowed to be anyone else.”

     “But your door is always open, why don’t you just leave?”

     The half-ghost let the blanket fall and looked into the depths of the intruder's eyes. “Why don’t you?”