Ran out of space. Moving it to a forum! https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/350482/
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone,” I pleaded.
But just like all the rest, she left, drifting slowly away.
I cried, an action so familiar to me. Every time it hurt. It did not matter who it was. Whenever I was left alone in this cell, it broke my heart a little more.
Another ghost floated into the room. I turned my back, knowing there would only be more pain.
“We all have our punishments,” she reminded me.
I gritted my teeth. She was the only one who came back, not because she cared though.
She went to wipe the tear off my face, but her hand passed right through. I shivered. As much as I craved to spend time with anyone, I hated when the ghosts touched me. It was like they were taking some of me, my life with them.
“Few days left,” she said as if it would comfort me.
“And then what? I spend the rest of my death in this hell alone?” I yelled.
It wasn’t fair to lash out at her. She came back. It was more I could say for the thousands of ghosts I had seen.
“Not alone. With us,” she replied unfazed.
I shuddered, yet I knew it was my fate. The same as the ones who had come before me.
“Did anyone want to go?” I asked knowing the answer already.
“It is in our instinct to survive. None want to die, but there are worse things.”
I frowned, “How long will you stay?”
“Till your life fades,” she said.
I blinked in shock. My death was fast approaching. The ghosts never lingered with me for more than a week.
“It becomes easier to be with those closer to our stage in life.”
I only nodded before hugging myself. Slowly, I rocked myself to sleep, knowing that every breath could be my last, and the one after, my first in death.
She stood watch over me. I could feel her there, floating above my shivering body. It was as creepy as it was kind.
I woke with my usual pain. Waves of sadness flooded through me as my body awoke to the sharp world. The waking world was always more severe and less fuzzy than the dream world. I wondered if that was what it was like to be a ghost: forever blurry, like swimming in the water with your eyes open.
“Soon,” she promised me.
Throughout the days, more ghosts joined me. The song of death filled the room like an ever-present whisper. They were calling me to join them. Waiting for another sister to become part of their world. Many offered advice, condolences, and stories of their own passing. I took it all in. I had always known I was destined to this fate as every first child knows. My parents never grew close for that reason, and now I didn’t regret it. It would be more painful to go through the process if I had any attachments to the living world.
“It is time.” her voice floated over the group, hushing all but the death song.
It increased in volume, calling for me. Begging for me as I had to all the ghosts I wanted to stay. The dead parted as a living walked into the room.
“Aure. Your time has come,” he said.
I drew away, not because he talked of my death, but because he was living, breathing. It was then I realized that I was not.
“Come,” the ghost that had watched over me said, her voice more clear than it has ever been, “It is too hard for new ghosts to be among the living.”
She was not calling me; she was calling my ghost. I floated out of my now lifeless body. I saw everything how the ghosts saw it. It was not blurry, it was crystal clear. This was always the first child’s destiny. And finally, I could hear words in the death song: Fate is Death.
I heard crying. I ran my fingers over my face. No, for once, it was not me. I hadn’t cried since I died. But then who was it?
“New prisoner,” the ghost, who watched over me, said.
“Oh,” I said.
That didn’t take long. I had barley been dead. Did cells really fill that quickly?
“None will visit her. She is very alive. Even I can’t stand to be with her and I am an Elder Ghost.”
Oh, I had wanted to see her, to comfort her. I was a new ghost. Being near her would hurt more than dying I was told.
“I’ll take you to her someday if she still lives. We can visit a more dead prisoner if you’d like. It will still be hard.” she suggested.
“Can I see her now?” I asked
“It will worse than dying for a new ghost to be with a alive soul,” after some thought, she said, “But nothing is stopping you. You only need to follow the cries.”
I saw through her right away. Well, she was a ghost so I always could see beyond her, but I could see what she wanted. She wanted me to go to the new prisoner, to learn a lesson.
“I will, and I will stay,” I held my head up defiantly.
“Very well.” she faded away.
I drifted through the walls, finding my way to the new prisoner. As the sobbing grew louder, a pain in my heart slowly grew stronger. My heart throbbed, and I was still far away. I pushed forward, driven by the thought of my first days in the cell, alone and in need of of company.