Maddy Leighton


My name is Maddy Leighton, I am forever sixteen and my family left my house as soon as I was buried. I died January seventh, 2008.

I remember waking up after my fall, like a bad nightmare, and seeing everything around me as if for the first time because I was in my house and not in front of a creepy building. I was confused, alone, and scared--but I was mostly angry. Falling through a window hadn't always been my choice of death. Personally, I would have preferred being shot, so that at least people around me knew what was happening, or being run over because then I could at least feel the bitter surprise of it. But falling out a window seven storeys up had not been my first choice, especially when I had been chased into that option. 

I watched my parents argue endlessly over my death. My father was obsessed with the idea that I had committed suicide and my mother thought that I had been too happy to do such a thing. Being the only child had taken its toll on my family and they had left our home forever, leaving me cold and alone with the final slamming of the front door. They couldn't see me and they had blocked their sight from the possibility of ever seeing me. 

Then I waited.

I watched the cold winter evaporate into a ruthless spring full of drowning rains and budding flowers that I could no longer touch. Then spring made a road for summer as it drove the neighboring kids out to play. I watched teenagers from my school walk past my house while giving furtive glances at the abandoned windows. I could never escape, I could never be part of that world again just because I had tripped and because I had been labelled as a suicide.

Now, a little bit more than a year after my death, a new family was finally moving in. Out of towners, since they obviously knew nothing about the haunting of my home. Kids from other schools had tried getting into the house in the previous months to vandalize and anger me enough to do some sort of magic for their benefit, but I had kept quiet. I couldn't risk my existence until someone knew the truth. This family that I had watched yesterday, was small like mine had been: two sisters and a mother. The three looked oddly similar to each other, but the one girl, the one that I could have sworn saw me in the window, was distanced from the others. 

That's why I had gone to her. 

Before I had died I had ironically seen some ghost documentary show explaining how ghosts or whatever tried to get the living's attention in odd ways. A popular one had been the foggy mirror. 

Walking through the house, I didn't think of it as floating because that was just wrong, I made my way up to my old room, this stranger's new room, and calmly walked to the bathroom. Her quiet shower made me anxious. What if this didn't work? What if she would be too freaked out and would leave instead of helping me? What if she was a skeptic? Or worse, what if she had me exorcised? My nerves had me feeling dizzy and I accidentally bumped into a box behind me. Before I could realized that I had actually touched the box with my leg the girl in the shower looked through the glass shower door. She couldn't see me, but she had heard me.

I heard the shower being turned off before quickly turning back to my intended mission. I put all of my energy into etching two words into the foggy mirror:


I backtracked as the girl covered herself with towels and exited the shower quickly. I barely missed hitting over a can of hairspray or something with my hand, and by the way my luck was going I was sure that I would have knocked it over. 

"Hello?" The girl's voice was raspy, but not scared. I walked further into the room to avoid being too close to her. "Mom? Krystal?"

Her skin was tanned under the towels and I missed all of my friends and our adventures to the lake during the summer. Her blond hair escaped out of her toweled head and her green eyes searched for something that she would never be able to see. Freckles painted a thin line across her nose and the attitude I had seen her give to the younger girl did not fit her appearance. She was smaller than me in size and height, but her voice belonged to a powerful person. 

Before I could think of anything more I heard the front door opening downstairs. Here's the thing with us ghosts, we hear things a lot better than the living do and we know when to get out of the way. I turned as the girl went back into the bathroom and ran out of the room, hoping that my message was loud and clear.

The End

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