A Voice From the Past

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Time to go to school!” a feminine voice rings loudly through the room.

“No. . .I’m too tired. I’m staying right here.” Zackary turns over, ignoring her.

“You can’t ignore me! Remember what happened last time?” she chides.

“Ugh. . .yes, I remember.” She’s too perky for 6:30 in the morning. “Listen, Sylvia, I-”

“Zackary! You have to get up! Come on. . .” Sylvia tries to drag him out of his bed, but it doesn’t work. “You’re too heavy.”

“You can’t touch anything, Syl.”

“Please, just get up. . .” she whines.

“Fine.” Zackary rolls out of bed. “What are you so excited for, anyway? It’s just another day at school. Another day of being yelled at by Mom. We do this almost every day, what’s gonna be different?” He starts getting dressed. 

“Whoah, there buckaroo! Let me turn around, first!”

“Really, Syl? You live here. My abs are nothing new.”

“What abs?” Sylvia giggles, turning in circles.

Zackary rolls his eyes. Too cheerful. “If you want to turn around, go ahead. I don’t know why you would, though. This is eye-candy.” He turns to face her as he gestures to his abs. 

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Stop being such an egomaniac!”

“I’m kidding,” Zackary smiles. “You know, at school, the girls think-”

“I know what the girls think! I go to school with you every day. They think you’re so handsome and cool with your ocean blue eyes and messy chocolate brown hair and your abs, but if they knew-”

“What’s there to know? I’m just the hot guy, they love me for my looks.”

“But they need to get to know you! You have a great personality.”

“What?” Zackary spins around to face Sylvia. “That’s the first time you’ve complimented me for a long time. . .”

She claps a hand over her mouth, as if she wasn’t supposed to say that.

Zackary smirks. “I couldn’t hear what you said. Could you say it louder? Maybe like. . .yell it to the world?”

“No!” She shakes her head frantically. “Just finish getting dressed.”

Zackary smiles as he turns back around. He peeks back at Syl, and her translucent cheeks are dark with blush.

“Let’s go eat.”

They leave Zackary’s bedroom and head to the kitchen for breakfast. Sylvia zooms around gleefully, as always. After the personality comment, however, she seems more subdued. 

Through a mouthful of Tac-O’s, Zackary says, “So what did you do last night?”

“Um. . .” She looks hesitant to tell.

Zackary’s eyes widen. He swallows. “Did you seriously go through my drawers again? Sylvia! I asked you to stop!”

“But you always leave them open and I have nothing better to do! If you don’t want me to go through your stuff, better close the drawers, because I can’t get into them if they’re closed.”

Zackary puts his face in his hands. “I’m still not used to having you around-”

“Hey. . .”

“-I meant like having to close drawers so you can’t get into them.”

“It’s not my fault you forget things.”

“And it’s not my fault you’re nosy!”

Sylvia crosses her arms angrily and turns away.

“Zackary? What’s going on in here?” His mom walks into the kitchen. She looks around. “Who were you talking to?”

He looks at Sylvia and sighs. “Nobody.”

“Zackary, the first sign of insanity is talking to yourself. You’re insane, aren’t you? Makes sense, with the way you act.”

“No, it isn’t. . .” Sylvia says. Zackary ignores her.

“Are you eating the Tac-O’s? Good, your father hates them.”

“Mhmgrhakf,” Zackary says through another mouthful, this one a little too big. The Tac-O’s don’t taste very good, but he has to eat them. His mother won’t let him waste food.

“What? Don’t talk with your mouth full, moron.”

“How am I supposed to chew?” he asks, his mouth still full.

“I misspoke, you stupid boy. Don’t talk back to me. Swallow your food before you talk.”

He swallows. “What time is it? I need to go soon.”

“Don’t you have a watch, or a phone? Why did I even let you get a phone if you aren’t going to use it? Don’t tell me you lost it”

“I left it at Jensen Bibb’s house yesterday.”

“Don’t be so stupid next time, Zackary.”

“Mom, please? I can’t see the clock from here.”

“Ugh. 6:45, alright? Just look yourself, next time.”

Zackary’s eyes widen. 6:45? I have to go! “Mom, I’m gonna be late. Gotta go.”

He leaps up and grabs his bag from the hooks by the door. He slams the door in Sylvia’s face.

She floats through it. “You know I don’t like it when you slam doors in my face. It’s loud.”

“It doesn’t hurt you. You can just float through it.”

“Your mom can’t see me.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“She thinks you’re insane.”

“I know.”

Silence. The bus pulls up to the corner. Zackary gets on. He sits in the back, on an empty seat. Sylvia floats through the wall and sits next to him. The bus is loud, but Zackary still speaks quietly. He doesn’t want to be overheard talking to seemingly nothing.

"Why doesn’t she have. . .one of. . .you?” Zackary gestures to Sylvia’s ghostly body vaguely.

She laughs. “You mean, why isn’t she haunted?”

“I guess. Like, why me? I've been thinking about it for a while and I just can't figure it out,” He says quietly.

“Well, you’re hot.”

“So you’re saying all hot people are haunted?”

“No. Let me try to explain.”

“Wait, why am I even haunted? I guess. . .I just, like, accepted it when you first appeared. You said, ‘hey, I’m Sylvia, and I’m your ghost now.’”

“That’s not what happened.”

“That’s true,” Zackary concedes. “I woke up one morning and you were leaning over me. I screamed, and you flew through the roof. It was one heck of a day.”

Sylvia laughs, remembering. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but. . .you’re being haunted by your past.”

“What? I’m being haunted by a ghost, not my past.”

“Yes. A ghost that is your past.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m from your past life. You don’t remember me, but I remember you.”

“I. . .had a past life?”

“Everyone here did. Not all of them were. . .let’s say. . .significant or long enough to make such a lasting bond like the one we have. That’s why I have to haunt you.”

“Wait, you have to haunt me? Who are you? Who were you to me? Who was I? Are you. . . dead? What did we do that created such a strong connection?”

As she answers, Sylvia checks off the questions on her fingers. “Yes, I have to haunt you. I am Sylvia. I’m. . .not allowed to tell you who I was. Or who you were. And yes, stupid, I’m dead! I’m a ghost, for heavens’ sake! And. . .I can’t tell you about the connection, either. Sorry. Ghost’s Code.”

“There’s. . .a ghost code?”

“Yeah. ‘Don’t tell the hauntee stuff’ is the gist of it.”

“Oh. . .okay. Does it. . .does it hurt you that I don’t know who you are?”

“No. I like getting to know this side of you.”

“Why can’t my mom, or anyone else, see you?”

“I’m your ghost. Your past. I haunt you.”

“Okay. Do-”

“You there! In the back! Kid! Get off the bus! We’ve been waiting here for like three minutes and I just want to go home,” The bus driver yells at Zackary.

“See you outside. . .” Sylvia floats through the wall. Zackary apologizes to the driver and flees the bus.

“Whoops!” Sylvia giggles.

“Syl, if others were haunted too, would I be able to see their ghosts? Would they be able to see you?”

“I don’t think so. I might be able to see them, though. I’m pretty sure that there’s at least one other person in this school who’s haunted. It’s a bit rare, though. Because, you know, you have to forge a super strong connection in your past life.”

“Wait, Syl. Does this mean I died. . .and left you, so when you died. . .you came back for me? If you had died first, would I be the ghost haunting you? Wait. Why don’t you get a chance at a second life? Why do you have to haunt me?”

“I guess all of that is true. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you, or not, but since you guessed it, yeah. About the second life for me, this is my second life. When you die a second time, you’ll get your memories of your other life back and you can haunt someone, or you can stay with me in the ghost realm.”

“. . .ghost realm?”

“Yeah, the life I knew you in was my second life. Instead of staying with the person from my first life (for personal reasons that I’m not telling you), I decided to haunt you. Took me a while to decide, though, so I didn’t get around to you until about one month ago. Sorry about that.” She winks. “So when you die, you can either haunt someone in this life in their next life, or you can get another eternal life in the ghost realm! It’s beautiful down there. Blue skies (not like the ones up here, these are too bright), beautiful neighborhoods, et cetera. Friends, too! There are some unpleasant people there, though. I think it’s worth it in the end. But being a ghost is hard, too. You can’t eat or sleep, and you can’t leave the hauntee.”

“Okay. Hold on, sorry. This is a lot to process.” I can never be alone. Sometimes. . .I just want privacy, but Sylvia can’t leave me. Stupid ghosts. She probably has no clue. Right now, I just want to be alone but she can’t leave and I have class.

Zackary and Sylvia enter the building that his first class is in.

Jensen Bibb, one of Zackary’s friends, hits him on the shoulder. “Hey, man! Are you, like, on the phone or something? Who were you talking to?”

“Oh! Hey, Bibb. I wasn’t talking to anybody.”

Bibb lowers his voice. “Dude, you were totally talking to someone. You were, like, super focused on a conversation but nobody was there. . .all the girls were staring at you, and you didn’t even notice. What’s wrong? Cat got your abs?”

“Bibb, that’s not the saying. . .”

“Psh, whatever. Same thing. Potato, Tomato.”

“What?” Zackary is zoned out, not really paying attention to what Bibb is saying. His mind is dwelling on what Sylvia told him. It was a big enough shock for him about a month ago when he learned that he was being haunted by a ghost, and that ghosts were real.

“Go to class, dude. You’re really out of it.”

Sylvia is giggling like a madman in Zackary’s peripheral vision. It’s distracting. 

Bibb’s girlfriend walks up from behind, and he stops to talk to her.

“What?” he hisses at Sylvia the moment Bibb turns around.

“You’re such a dork. Why does anyone think you’re so cool? Talking to air like that.”

“Syl, I was talking to you. Would you rather me just never talk to you?”

That sobers Syl up. “No, please don’t ignore me! I’m haunting you because I loved you!”

“You. . .loved me?” He stares at her. “Who. . .who were you?”

“I was. . .I was nobody to you.”

“That isn’t true. If you could come back to haunt me, you were someone to me.”

“Sorry, I can’t say anything. I’d be punished if I did. Forget I said that. Remember, you’re talking to the air.”

Zackary sighs. “Fine, I’ll forget. Air. See? I look mad for you. To my mom, to my friends, everyone. Probably why I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I think you don’t have a girlfriend because you haven’t asked any of the girls out. . .they all love you.”

“Oh. . .I guess you’re right. C’mon, let’s go to class.”

Zackary walks into his classroom a few minutes late. He tries to slide into a desk without anyone noticing, but Kira, the class know-it-all, notices. “Mrs. Gigenheimer, Zackary was late!”

Zackary slides down in his chair.

“Mr. Jones! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Mrs. Gigenheimer, I’m sorry for interrupting your class. I promise I won’t do it again,” Zackary recites in a monotone. 

“You can do better than that, dork,” Sylvia whispers. She’s sticking out the window, her head by Zackary’s ear. 

Class goes by slowly.

So does the next one. 

And the next.

When lunch finally arrives, Zackary is worn out. He spent the whole morning thinking about what Sylvia said about her being from his past, and that he’s going to become a ghost someday.

He looks lost in thought when he sits at a table all alone (excluding Sylvia’s ever-constant presence, of course). Jensen Bibb and his usual lunchmates try to get him to eat with them, but eventually, they leave him alone. Or, as alone as he can get.

He puts his head in his hands. Still overwhelmed, his eyes water.

“Sylvia, sometimes I just want to be alone. I don’t want to hear your voice, or your giggles. I just want to be alone. You always just talk, and never really listen. If you’re not going to listen, I need you to be quiet then, so I can listen to myself. I’m sorry, but I really need to just. . .think.”

“Oh. . . okay.” A tear drips down Sylvia’s translucent cheek. “Sorry. I can listen more if you want me too, but-”

“Sylvia, please.”

“Sorry.”

It’s quiet. Or, at least, it is to Zackary. The cafeteria is loud, but the buzzing in his ears drowns it all out. Ghosts. . .haunting. . .a girl from the past. . .who was she to me? Why do I even care? This is my life now. . .this is it. . . I can never be alone.

Eventually, it is silent in the cafeteria. Everyone has left for class, except Zackary. He stays there, crying silently, thinking it all over. It’s too much. Being called a madman for talking to ‘the air,’ his mom being mean to him all the time, never being able to be alone. But that’s hardly Sylvia’s fault, is it? Or mine. . .Who can I talk to?

He looks up. Sylvia is laying across from him, her head down on the table. “Sylvia. . .I’m sorry. I thought I needed to be alone, but I really just needed someone to talk to. I need someone to listen.”

“Zackary. . .I’m sorry. You can talk, and I promise I’ll listen.”

And so he does. He talks. Zackary tells all his problems to Sylvia, and she just listens. She doesn’t interrupt, and he gets it all out. At the end, he’s crying still. Sylvia floats over to him, and wraps her translucent arms around him. He can’t feel it, but it’s nice to know that someone is there, even if it’s a ghost.

“Sylvia. . .thank you. I. . .I guess being haunted by my past isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

p.s. here is a little bonus- (sorry it's so long. . . it's a pic i drew of zack & syl!) https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ytUm9Y-bFpP6ylXdQWLlPTeG-PaIamgwjn-XD25X6DP8fP64oHuv2cJtCEeYG5aTFtFbbOWQTl7XocJadvfVLzVWUE3kFmoHux4R49e37IXshaH8WR89eULq8G1twFVKQ4y_7mGprsS2GiJvU73_7XZhzTnmX-xgQLFgZLDb8aWol5K7m1jwu-_fBPMKAyAbpB-1BTRem_NGXtq53knDcPVBRJD3OCO6FJQ5Mdw-Ad3DId-iEdY6K8vq-mEIUE__KLxMApAR6EOrwBq9PQzqeJuPgFmKjOT75EzBBu0xlSduxDZMjV6FSrtYjpbW9ngRHPGxoj8xG-Mo9RVY6FPxg29_YyidA6DW_T7whhwHOE0Ebh0HZ8zOiJD0JwQ4HjbVBJiyoRjLartz97_KCuF4j8CfGnQOuQLRAdIJnkLCChBpS-tb47qEJHNuUnOQBBEKWLW4mSO2ZEOwqbmVqMX3eTKgsxeu-J9X7dChVh6f2cnBHjiJkDDcAh5KFOd-Pq3Uxk-gAEYELeGvHij6WMsk53igYAQeMvHo763MIz3GXQH_qodRq6yl5lhE7Q5P5smbZqVLHjJuyWmH6SrweU6wXbu1x0wpnxheyMz1D_1cdaN727Uccx1kf1lGtHVrUWXYZGtOeh-V6fWxneeSKGYO4F3W0npjArSZabHBhnB45-UDVZm6sc222bj15tl3TDE=w577-h768-no?authuser=0