Death... Sort Of.

Holt dimly recognized the sound of a gunshot. Less than a second later, the sniper bullet cracked his rib-cage and entered his vitals, piercing a lung. It then bounced around inside his body causing tremendous page before coming to a rest, lodged in his back. All of this took less than a minute.

Meanwhile, a searing, blinding pain ripped through Holt and his world went blindingly white... then black. The pain became dim and numb and the sounds around him slowly faded out.

Only moments later, it seemed, his dim view of grasses and spent shells reappeared. Strangely enough, though, it was black and white. He couldn't seem to be hearing much at the moment, either. 

Funny, maybe that close shot deafened me. Whew, did that nearly get me. I should be more careful, Holt thought to himself. He stood up. Everything seemed to be intact, not even sore. But what's this?

He looked down and saw a body close to where he was lying moments before. Saddened, he bent down to see who he was. The bullet that missed me must have gotten this chap, he remarked to himself. He rolled the boy over, and with a sickening start, realised the lad looked a lot like... himself. 

Holt jumped backwards and yelled aloud. Well, he thought he did. He didn't hear anything. "If anyone can hear me please nod!"

Nobody even acknowledged that he had spoken. Everyone was intent on shooting at the enemy, discharging and reloading shells, and avoiding getting hit. 

What happened to me?


Holt couldn't be dead. Could he? His body, or what looked a lot like his body, was right in front of him. And nobody seemed to be able to hear him. And, of course, there was this whole black-and-white phenomenon. As far as he Holt knew, a gunshot blast can't render you colourblind. 

But he also was there, thinking. So what could he be?

All at once he knew the answer.

Ghost.

The End

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