My grandma, Caroline, was always the light of my life. She was the sweetest little woman, wise beyond her years. She always took good care of me while my parents worked all through childhood. Sadly, she died of kidney failure when I was 16. I remember sobbing at her bedside, her eyes sunken deep into her skull. Her skin as white as fresh fallen snow, skin was cold as ice.
I was clutching her hand in mine as long as I could, pleading for her to wake up. Her limp arm moving with mine as i put her hand against my forehead, sobbing into it. I refused to let go of her hand, eventually my parents forced me to let go by pulling me away from her. That was 7 years ago, yet the memories still linger fresh in my mind.
It was like any other weekday. I attempted to sleep in a little more that morning, only to be woken by the sounds of my dogs barking at the door. I brushed it off, thinking nothing of it.
Suddenly, i heard the side garage door open and shut. The little bell at the top rung as the door swayed. I hear footsteps enter the kitchen. A familiar voice rings out: “Sweetheart! Are you here?”. The singsongy tone grasped my attention. Without a second thought, I flew out of my bed and composed myself as fast as I could, making my way down the stairs.
The old chubby woman’s figure greeted me. My jaw dropped. “Grandma???”
She was sitting at the kitchen table, her little body snuggly between the chair and table rim. She flashed a sweet smile, her curly hair glistened in the sunlight beaming through the windows.
“Hi Honey. You seem energetic today. Do you have everything? Ready for school?”
I arched my back and scratched my head with confusion. How was she here?? I slumped into a chair holding my head. My grandma lurched forward.
“Whats wrong sweetheart? Are you feeling sick?” “How are you here?!” I blurted out, making her jump back in her chair.
“What do you mean? I always come here every day.” She tilted her head.
“You’ve been long dead!” She quirked her eyebrow at me.
“Well I would know if I was dead.” She said, chuckling. “Come on, you’re gunna be late.”
I stood up, grabbing my nearby backpack. As i looked up, i noticed my smaller dog, Buttercup, sniffing the chair where my grandma was sitting, but didn’t acknowledge her presence at all, not even a tail wag. I brushed it off as Buttercup always acted a little odd, especially around people.
The drive to my school was quiet, the whole time I twiddled my thumbs, trying to gather my thoughts. I occasionally looked up to see my grandma was still indeed there, driving, the soft wind blowing through her short curly hair.
I was dropped off on campus and hurried to my class. I put down my backpack and went up to the sign in sheet at the front of the room. My hand grasped the pen, lifting it, only for it to slip from my hands. It landed on the table with a quiet thump.
I tried lifting it again, but to no avail. The pen lept from my hand onto the table, as if it was covered in oil. I firmly grasped it, finally attempting to write on the sheet. The pen didn’t leave any ink.
Confused, i took my seat, turning to see my classmate behind me.
“Do you have a pen? That one up there isn’t working.” No response.
I raised my voice.
“HEY!” No response.
Not even a look in my general direction. I was about to scream but it was too late, class had begun.
My teacher ranted about the horrors of WWII. I missed most of it, my mind still wandering from the encounter from that morning. I needed to answer at least one question to get points for that day, so i nonchalantly raised my hand to answer one of his questions. The teacher looked in my direction, directly at me, but didn’t seem to realize I was there. I thought that was really odd of him. Surely he knows i’m present.. right?
Time seemed to pass fast, and before i knew it, class was over. I made my way to the cafeteria, grabbing a subway sandwich and slumping into a chair close to the biggest TV in the room.
I raised my sandwich to my mouth, only to freeze in place. My eyes widened at the news headline. My name was on the screen. I was the victim of a savage killing the night before. Charlie, an ex of mine, being placed in handcuffs. He was screaming at the cameras, none of what he was saying registered in my mind. I stood up in a panic.
My mind went blank, the next thing i knew I was running. Out the door, across the street, down the neighbors road. I ran for what seemed like an eternity, Finally reaching the door of my house. My grandmother was inside, i didn’t care. I ran past her as she greeted me.
Up the stairs, down the hall. I slammed my bedroom door open. There I saw my own body. Bloodied sheets, a knife buried into my chest. My skin was black and blue. Endless stab wounds strewn about my body. The entire room was covered in dried blood and caution tape. I finally knew why my grandmother had visited me that day. I was in limbo, and so was she.