What is it like being a ghost?
That would probably be the main question most would ask me if they could even see me. Sometimes people did but you really had to be looking to find me. Although being stuck down in a moldy cellar isn't really the best way to get found. Every so often I went upstairs but just found myself spooked by this strange society and once again hid in my cellar.
Strange, I never thought it would be the ghost hiding from the living but in my case it was. I didn't even know what really kept me here. I had only been seventeen when I had tumbled off that darn balcony. 'He always drank too much' I had heard my mother cry when I had risen from my body.
I didn't look much different now. Still had my spic and span black heeled shoes. Still had my quarter length trousers and ridiculously high socks. The only part of my outfit that I liked was the jacket that buttoned up over my chest but actually fell down to my knees. That was eighteenth century clothing for you!
I didn't know what century it was now. I was very tempted to find out. I mean living in a basement really does bore you a little after like... I don't know how long it had been. I hadn't seen the passing of one day. Too busy being stuck in this darn basement in the very back with the one box from my life that had survived along with me. It was a bit rotten but the jewel contents were well kept thanks to my care. I bet to most I would sound very boring spending how ever many centuries cleaning jewellery.
Anyway... back to attempting to go upstairs. Maybe I would check my old bedroom first. I did indeed miss it.
I went through the first floor and found a boy sat watching a strange noise box. I scowled at it and poke a circular part poking out. The thing went off which made me almost cry out but I couldn't alert the living of my presence. The boy sat up. "What the....?"
He shook his head and came over meaning I had to scurry away. I quickly move of flying up and going through up to the next floor. Up into the room which use to be mine. I froze. The room was.... different but... tasteful. To my eyes anyway. Except for the color. A pink all over the room.
Then there was a girl. A curious girl a lot dressed like the women use to in my era but again this pinky colour that wasn't around. She was sat on her bed under a canopy embroiding. I inched over but sat myself on her desk. I didn't notice the beads which I knocked. Their container created a lovely thump when it hit the ground though.
It made the girl prick herself and scurry from the room. Was I dreaming? No, that was silly... ghosts couldn't dream.....