~*~Can you tell me how....
Ok So I am thinking (starting now) to complete a story. I like to start them, but never finish one you know? So here I go!! If you read this and find garmmar mistakes PM me or Comment and let me know! I also need a tittle so after you read it and you come up with a good one let me know (PM or COMMENT) T ill them I will try to write a journal entry along with each chapter of the story I complete. Till next time!
heart ~~~*:*~~~ Minerva
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Chapter One:
So just to let you in on my little life story so far:
My name is Lillian Marie Burnes. I am seventeen years old. I have long locks of brown soft hair with matching chocolate big eyes, and I am the rebirth version of my great grandmother. Yea, you heard me right and it gets better. She and I are both mediators. That means ‘ghost talkers’. So when many of girls are thinking about prom and their Friday night dates…I talk to ghost.
I noticed this when I was about five. I lived with my mother and father in D.C and as we walked threw the national cemetery; on Fourth of July, I happen to see a gray man sitting but a tombstone. Not just any man, he was dressed as a solider was like the 1800’s. Well if you haven’t been to D.C during the patriotic holidays everyone dresses from the late eras; but they weren’t gray like this guy. So When I tried pointing him out to my parents they bought thought I saw a man they didn’t. They warned me not to talk to anyone I didn’t know and we continued our day. Dad had told me times before, because he worked for the Army and it could be a protection thing for him as well as the family. So I never spoke to him.
That night before the fireworks I saw him again. This time he look directly at me. Have you ever put your hand on something cold right after having them warm; that chill you get is what I felt when he noticed me. I blinked at him a couple of times then softly smiled. He waved then I did it back. The next thing I knew he was gone. I ran to my mother to let her know I saw the Gray Solider again. After a while my mother guessed it was an imaginary friend. He was a friend for sure but not imaginary, none of them are. That’s right ‘them’ there are more than one. Try like millions.
One of them is my dearest friend and the one person I have ever lost: My Mother. I was nine when she died of cancer. She was so pretty, then when the doctors told her she had it, she started to change. She got skinny, way to skinny for a human. Her hair fell out and her pinkish skin turn yellow and pale. I no longer watched her dress up on Friday nights, as her and Dad would go out on the town. I now watched her get shots after shots. This went on for a year before she decided if she died she would do it at home with us then at a hospital. She was home for a week before she died.
The first time I saw her after that was a month after the funeral; I was in my room doing math homework. God how I hated math and mom knew it. She scared me to death as she leaned over and whispered the answer to the problem in my ear. She wasn’t the scary figure she was when she died. She was that beautiful lady I watched all those nights. Mom loved to drop in and check on me and dad. She never called it spying just ‘checking in’. And when Dad caught me talking to her; and of course he saw nothing, he was a little concern. But I guessed he thought it was normal to talk to her sprit in the mourning posses, I wonder if I should ever tell him it wasn’t her sprit...it was her ghost.
Mom seemed to always be there even after she died, it was a nice thought she was there...and kind of not. Well when you bring a boy home and you know dad wont be home till late…you can’t do much with him on the couch, because mom is sitting on the arm of the couch with her arms crossed. Don’t worry I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t allowed to have girls over. Dad bought home a dish for New Year’s about six years ago and as he said ‘some weird things happen’. I never got want mom did, but dad got the point. That was until Julia.
Julia Whites was a social worker who got asked out by dad. And mom found out she was going to pull the route haunting on her, but she didn’t. She told me the next day it was because of what dad had said to her. Dad said in a prayer to mom that he missed her and wanted her to be as happy as he was. He said he had just one and only first love and would never stop loving mom, but Julia made him happy again and he wanted to ask for a sign to let Julia in our lives. Mom cried. Dad cried. Mom missed dad…I knew she did, but leaving the man you love and watching love another woman would’ve killed the living.
The next day when Julia came Mom did nothing but watch me and make sure she didn’t harm her cub. Julia was respectable and sweet, mom seemed to like her…somewhat. Neither of us thought dad would fall in love with her, or even ask her to marry him. But he did. In this process I found out she had two older twin sons. Their names where Johnny and Danny; both a year older, and both great looking. So this wasn’t so bad. Hot step brothers, nice step mom, dad was happy, and so was mom. Of course nothing is that easy. She lived in Sunny Northern Cali. We lived in Foggy D.C. you get where I am going?
So we moved! All the way to Sunny Cali. A eighteen year old would be thrilled to be attending a new school high school across the states in her junior year. Wrong. I left my closest friend Gigi; a spunky French red head I grew up with. In every way I was she was completely the opposite. She loved shopping. I didn’t. She loved shoes. I didn’t. She had over ten different boyfriends in one school year. I didn’t. She didn’t see ghost. I did. But threw out the years she was the only one; minus mom, I could always count on. So as I parted at the airport I promised I would text her as soon as I landed.
Dad and Julia had already lived in Cali for a whole month before I completely moved. I wanted to finish my Sophomore year instead of starting the last three weeks of school in Cali. Dad agreed ad let me stay with Gigi. At lease we had pairs right? Mom hugged me that day and promised she would see in Cali before long. I don’t know how ghost travel, but I am sure it’s no first class.
That morning I dressed in my Power T-shirt with my new Diva Jeans and black flip flops and to throw it all together my cameo army jacket with “Barnes” stitched in the breast. I looked good with my hair tossed into a dirty pony tail and shades on my nose with my giraffe print purse on my shoulder. You know for waking up at 3:00am for a ten hour plane flight I looked good. No I looked great. I felt great….till I saw my first ghost of the day. I sighed heavily with a complaining groan. ‘Not Again!’
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~~~*:*~~~ More next time!!
......can it be better than this.~*~
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