NOT AS IT SEEMS

Submitted into Contest #221 in response to: Write a story from a ghost’s point of view.... view prompt

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Fiction

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"No, no, no, no. Please don't do this."

I can see her crossing the street, a couple of guys already awaiting with a small package in hand. She gives one of them crumpled money, and the other pulls her into a too-sensual hug, sticking something in her back pocket.

Seriously, in the middle of the streets.

I'm from a different part of town, and I have no idea how I got here and how to return to my place. 

Nobody here sees me, I talk to people, and they just ignores me. 

I was supposed to be at Balvanera with Leandra. She must be pissed thinking I ditched her.

"Hey." A cab passes me. "You bastard!"


I walk to a lady with a strolling car. Weirdly, there's no babe in it. I can't see what's inside. "Excuse me. Where am I?"

She looks me right in the face and crosses the street. 

Honestly, what is it with people in this place?

"Hey babe, I'm almost home." I hear a girl on the phone. "I'm just leaving Newburgh."

How the hell did I get to Newburgh?

"I had a client, babe. I'll be home soon." The girl ends the call, and a man I hadn't seen beside her smacks her behind and starts eating her face off. 

Yep, she had a client, indeed. 

I've never been to this part of New York, and I don't have my phone on me, no way of getting an Uber, and taxis here tend to ignore my calling. 

How I am going back home is beyond me. 

So I wander, in what direction I also have no idea. 

I start to imagine my photo soon circulating WhatsApp chains with a missing sign. It's a hell of a way to get home. 

How long will it take for my friends and family to miss me?

I'm parched, starving, and feel bone heavy, but what can I do if not walk?

Suddenly, there was a commotion.

A woman screaming bloody Mary, running almost naked, a man on her heels, extremely indecent, with his…parts not at all hidden, and a gun in his hand. 

And nobody, I mean NOBODY, on the street even looked at what was happening. 

He grabbed her by the hair, forced her on her knees in the middle of the streets, and made her do things they should be doing behind closed doors. There are kids in the streets, for God's sake. 

The woman gagged and struggled to breathe, and he kept forcing himself on her as if she were made of rubber. I could hear her gurgled words. Shouts of "bastard" and "I'll kill you for that."

I was rooted, taking in the scene. 

Think back, I've been this man. Well, not THIS man exactly, but what I did to women was not so different from what he was doing. Minus the weapon and public places, sometimes. 

I remember my old fiancée, Carla, before she threw the engagement ring on my face. She told me a male without his…manhood would satisfy her more than me.

I never considered she could be right that I was being a neanderthal to my partners. Just as this man, well, he's not really in bed, but that is definitely no way to do it. 

I looked around, maybe I was in the middle of a pron-shooting, but there were no cameras. This shit was real. 

What a strange place where this kinda thing happens, and no one does anything.

I am curious to know how long I've been lost, how I got here, and where are my stuff, wallet, mobile, and keys. 

Not sure if it's wise, but I decided to sit for a while. The park looks well kept, and there are a couple of kids playing around. Luckily people won't think I'm a perv. 


The lady with the stroller is back. I see now she has a bunch of boxes inside it, like boxes left in front of the houses by a delivery person. 

She's stealing them. 

She sits three benches from me and starts to go through her loot.

I'm not even gonna put some sense into her. She'll ignore me again.

And I'm no different than her, just the form of theft is different.


I've been doing it since I was in college and my father's friend asked for my help. I've learned then that what they don't know doesn't hurt.

Once I opened my company, I started having more prominent clients, and my cuts got more significant, but not enough they'd notice.

I was always a genius with numbers, and manipulating them became my superpower.

Leandra found out as soon as I hired her as my secretary.

And she is no different.

At first, she blackmailed me, but then we started doing it together. One thing left to another, and one night, working late became more than working. 

She is now my fiancée. What better person to be married than the person who knows it all? She betrays me, and we fall together.

"Excuse me! Can I sit here?" 

Finally, someone in this place talked to me.

"Sure!" 

"Are you from here?" she asks.

"No, I'm from Nolita. You?"

"Nolita, hmm, you are far from home."

"Yeah, I don't know how I got here."

She sighs. 

"Also, I don't know how to get out of here," I remember. "Can you help me?"

"Sure, there's a bus stop two streets from here. That way." She points. "One of them will take you home."

"I don't have any money." Shit, I forgot that. Not only have I not been on a bus since my teens, but I also can't pay to get into one. 

"No need. The drivers are nice in this part of town." 

She speaks so calmly I wonder if she is drugged.

She is dressed in something that looks like a nightgown from the 1800s. It may be the fashion nowadays. What do I know? 

Her pale blond hair, long and braided, makes her look like a character from an old movie. 

I get up and start walking in the direction she pointed. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, it's not my time."

I gape at her. What the hell is she talking about?

"Safe journey! " It's all she says before moving to another bench. 


Finding the bus stop is more challenging than she made it seem, but I'm here. I just don't know which one to get.

Half an hour later, one that blinks Central Park, St. Patrick's Youth Center, and other places stops before me. I get in after a young boy with giant headphones. 

And the girl was right, the driver says nothing, doesn't ask for my money or doesn't try to stop me. 

I passed through places I had never seen. I was born and raised in New York and never visited other parts of it.

Hours later, I see a place I know all too well. By now, there's no point in going to the restaurant. Leandra is not there anymore. So I go home. 

The walk to my apartment takes more than usual. I have to drag my feet, so heavy they are. 

The lobby is a circus. People all around, some apartment must be having a party. 

I see a paramedic walking back to the ambulance.

Parties in this building are famous for having some drug abuse, and they are called all the time. Most of them they just make the person vomit, give them some saline, and if it's the case, take them to the nearest hospital. 

This one looks like it was nothing.


The door to my place is open, and there's an officer inside. So they finally realized I was missing. 

"I'm here," I tell him. "No need to worry, I don't know what happened. I must have passed out somewhere."

The officer goes to Leandra, whose makeup is all smudged, black streaks of mascara running from her eyes.

"I found him like this about an hour ago." She says between hiccups. 

What? 

Who?

She directs the officer to our bedroom. 

I AM IN MY BED!

What? 

No!

NO!

NO!

NOOOOOOOOO!

This can't be happening. Like a scene from a movie, I try to return to my body.

It's somewhat comical; I would be hysterical at the moment if I weren't dead, but I am desperate. 

I stand on the side of the bed and listen to Leandra give her report to the officer.

The paramedic comes back with a body bag.

If it could, my heart would be beating as the beats of an Alok's concert. 

I see they zip up the bag, my cold body inside. 


Leandra is perched on the windowsill. Is she sad? Was our relationship real for her? I know I came to love her devious mind, but did she…

I stare at her for a while. I have nowhere to be. She is beautiful, curly long hair, curvy, the most intelligent woman I've ever met. 

I never hired beautiful women as my assistant, but she was a talent I could not waste.


The front door opens, and she jumps. She runs to hug the man who enters my house as if it was his. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. 

"It's done." It's muffled, but I can hear her say it. "They are guessing it was a heart attack."

WHAT?

I'm incredulous.

I see his face for a second before she kisses him. 

Fabio Clifford, my father's friend, the man whom I've helped still in college. 

October 27, 2023 02:11

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1 comment

Carolina Coelho
23:27 Oct 31, 2023

That escalated quickly 😳 nice! :)

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