New Fiction--Yee Haw!
Is she nuts, or unique? You decide.
Because of my unique heritage, I have to check "other" on all those various surveys and questionnaires that come along. "Other", I feel, is a weak little word for what I am. When I say I fall into the "other" category, most people usually don't assume "other" means ghost.
I'm not entirely ghost, mind you--not to say I'm not proud of the ghost in me, I am. I have a lot of poltergeist pride. Occasionally, I'll wear a sheet over my head out to represent my pride in my spectral lineage. Sadly, the meaning is sometimes lost and I'm only referred to as "the crazy person in the sheet." Shame, really. Some people are about as deep and bright as mud puddles.
I'm only half ghost, on my father's side. My mother's this sort of a European-American mutt, but nothing considered to be exotic of exciting. Yet she has this lovely cinnamon complexion, so she's often mistaken for Mediterranean. Unfortunately for me she wasn't biologically generous enough to pass this trait to me, and I'd have to say I'm a little on the pale side. Then again, I suppose I should just be pleased that I'm opaque.
People often remark that I look very much like my mother. I'm forced to respond by saying I can't very well look like my father, because we don't know what he looks like. I like to imagine that in his living life he was a very handsome, dashing man. I often wonder about my mother falling in love with a man she couldn't even see, let alone making a commitment to him. I can never really decide if it's heartbreakingly romantic or damned stupid.
I've never held a conversation with my father, or even actually heard his voice. Shortly after I was born, I'm told, my father suddenly dematerialized and moved on to the next realm. My mother says my birth made him so happy he was immediately in heaven, in a sort of literal way.
I often ask my mother about him, and she says he was much like me. He was quiet and kept to himself and was very shy. She says for a long time she didn't even know he was haunting her apartment. Like most ghosts, she says, he was prone to depression. Melancholia is in my genes, it seems.
She has kept several pictures of the days when they were just two crazy entities in love. Of course, it's only my mom staring happily at the camera in those pictures, but I have a strong sense that he's there somewhere in those shots, maybe giving her a kiss on the cheek or with an invisible arm around her slim waist.
People often act incredulous when I tell them about myself. They ask if being part ghost has any side effects, or as some put it, "super powers." I'm very polite about these questions, but really, how ignorant. I wouldn't ask a Native American if he has any special abilities, or consider the growing of an afro the mark of some strange power.
Although, truth be told, I sometimes believe I inherited more than susceptibility to sorrow from my father. With growing frequency, I find myself disappearing. It's not a conscious effort, mind you, I'll simply find people looking through me, or are unaware of my presence . In classrooms, in the lunchroom, at parties, at home--from time to time, it's like I'm not there at all. Unfortunately, I'm having difficultly controlling this ability to be totally invisible.
There seems to be a lot of disbelief regarding the idea that a person can be part ghost. People ask me if being half ghost would mean I'm partially dead. They probe the possibility of ghost sperm. And most often, they question my sanity. Really, it's a very close-minded world out there.
After all, they're ignoring the most important element. If my father wasn't a ghost, wouldn't I be able to see him?
Thanks for readin. If you did. Hope you enjoyed.
Because of my unique heritage, I have to check "other" on all those various surveys and questionnaires that come along. "Other", I feel, is a weak little word for what I am. When I say I fall into the "other" category, most people usually don't assume "other" means ghost.
I'm not entirely ghost, mind you--not to say I'm not proud of the ghost in me, I am. I have a lot of poltergeist pride. Occasionally, I'll wear a sheet over my head out to represent my pride in my spectral lineage. Sadly, the meaning is sometimes lost and I'm only referred to as "the crazy person in the sheet." Shame, really. Some people are about as deep and bright as mud puddles.
I'm only half ghost, on my father's side. My mother's this sort of a European-American mutt, but nothing considered to be exotic of exciting. Yet she has this lovely cinnamon complexion, so she's often mistaken for Mediterranean. Unfortunately for me she wasn't biologically generous enough to pass this trait to me, and I'd have to say I'm a little on the pale side. Then again, I suppose I should just be pleased that I'm opaque.
People often remark that I look very much like my mother. I'm forced to respond by saying I can't very well look like my father, because we don't know what he looks like. I like to imagine that in his living life he was a very handsome, dashing man. I often wonder about my mother falling in love with a man she couldn't even see, let alone making a commitment to him. I can never really decide if it's heartbreakingly romantic or damned stupid.
I've never held a conversation with my father, or even actually heard his voice. Shortly after I was born, I'm told, my father suddenly dematerialized and moved on to the next realm. My mother says my birth made him so happy he was immediately in heaven, in a sort of literal way.
I often ask my mother about him, and she says he was much like me. He was quiet and kept to himself and was very shy. She says for a long time she didn't even know he was haunting her apartment. Like most ghosts, she says, he was prone to depression. Melancholia is in my genes, it seems.
She has kept several pictures of the days when they were just two crazy entities in love. Of course, it's only my mom staring happily at the camera in those pictures, but I have a strong sense that he's there somewhere in those shots, maybe giving her a kiss on the cheek or with an invisible arm around her slim waist.
People often act incredulous when I tell them about myself. They ask if being part ghost has any side effects, or as some put it, "super powers." I'm very polite about these questions, but really, how ignorant. I wouldn't ask a Native American if he has any special abilities, or consider the growing of an afro the mark of some strange power.
Although, truth be told, I sometimes believe I inherited more than susceptibility to sorrow from my father. With growing frequency, I find myself disappearing. It's not a conscious effort, mind you, I'll simply find people looking through me, or are unaware of my presence . In classrooms, in the lunchroom, at parties, at home--from time to time, it's like I'm not there at all. Unfortunately, I'm having difficultly controlling this ability to be totally invisible.
There seems to be a lot of disbelief regarding the idea that a person can be part ghost. People ask me if being half ghost would mean I'm partially dead. They probe the possibility of ghost sperm. And most often, they question my sanity. Really, it's a very close-minded world out there.
After all, they're ignoring the most important element. If my father wasn't a ghost, wouldn't I be able to see him?
Thanks for readin. If you did. Hope you enjoyed.