Should 5 And 6 Year Old Sleep On Big Bed The Story of a Ghost (Fictional Short Story)

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The Story of a Ghost (Fictional Short Story)

In the late evening I sat on the hard surface of my bed. I can’t go back to sleep; I waited in the blind for the ultimate sun to penetrate through the slats. At that moment I was in such anxiety that I was starry eyed. In an instant, my thoughts yearned to see the distant place where the moments of loved ones dwell. Even if it was a break, I welcomed it all in conjunction with my deep desire for a happy event. My heart cried out to see them all; my eyes sparkled with delight to all the delicate senses of deep affection. While time held its breath, it made way to reconnect me with the past.

It brought me back to when I sat with other young children, maybe 6 or 7 years old, and the teacher believed that holding a rock whisperer in her hand, she would always know about any hidden mischievous goings-on inside her classroom. Magic, then introduced into an innocent mind. There was even a garden where a statue of a dwarf changed position from time to time. It was a blooming superstitious faith that resided in every child.

Then there was a strong nostalgic feeling that harkened back to my days spent playing outside; I used to play games with a glass marble by putting it in small holes by just pressing between my index finger and thumb and moving it forward. I was a kid adept at hitting the opponent’s ball from 4 to 5 feet away. As time moved freely, I got into a scene where I played a soccer game called “sipa” in the Filipino language – made of a mat with colored threads or a plastic straw. I was wearing good rubber shoes and I threw the sip up and caught it so it wouldn’t touch the ground; I had to count the number of times I needed to throw the sipa and then hit it as far away from my opponent as possible to have them chase and grab their leg. While circling around I found myself holding tex playing cards in my hand and running away from other players who would want a share of my tex playing cards. In another scene, I was trying to rescue a captured teammate from another base and was also trying to secure our base from an intruder in a game called “capture and own a corner” or “agawan base” in Filipino dialect. I have won and lost many games but with all these; I made new friends until the playmats were folded up and kept in the corner as childhood moments slipped away and fled uncomfortably into more mature roles.

My eyes blinked and I was suddenly transported back to my high school days, practicing the military marching cadence under the heat of the sun; in those who demonstrate stamina; I was able to win discipline and perseverance; all nearby barbershops were too busy to attend to those cadets who needed haircuts. I was a frequent visitor to the library where research was done because there was no internet in those days. I have spent many times reading and writing researched information and staying up late at night going through notes. Time was so generous that it showed incidents of me sticking to the back of a jeepney to bring me to school and sometimes briskly walking from home to school when the traffic was at its worst at that time. The moment was great as it showed me carrying my lunch to school and eating it on the river bank with the trees in the background. I didn’t get very far in my search for a university; in the same location as the high school where I attended college. There was no escaping the tumultuous life at university that even in my more mature life I was not spared the bullying when the English teacher made me stand up in class next to a classmate and asked someone to compare us. It brought humiliation to where I had a hard time forgetting. Sometime during the last school year I got sick and decided to stop – to give way to minor stomach surgery. This was the reason why I graduated within 5 years and did not participate in graduation.

As time passed, I worked the night shift at the bank, collating data, and went home the next morning. I then saw myself doing clerical work, data checking and data coding most of the time until I got a permanent job in the government which I served with integrity and later got married and settled down. The most precious part was seeing my wife and son traveling together with other family members. I cherished playing time with my young son, discovered fun ways to talk to him even when communicating at a distance. It was charming to see the moments of sharing a pleasant life with my wife that can change my life with her loving and caring nature. Time expanded and revealed more details about my devoted mother for tireless and loving care. Time traveled to the most critical decision of my life – to work in a foreign country involving different customs and cultures. Strict observance of the law strengthened and fine-tuned my personality. Every day I lived in a virtual world where communication settled on the Internet. Life outside the home country was like rituals: go to work, call family, remit money and work again to earn a living. Diseases I tried to avoid, that’s why I tried to live healthy.

Over time, back in the room, small and large details that would tell someone in a patchwork quilt that I have unforgettable memories. The years spent in a foreign country were like being thrown out of my safe abode, and therefore great changes took place in my body: gray hair prevailed, memory fell out, inexplicable body pain, stress, homesickness and loneliness caused my body to deteriorate completely. .

While the neighborhood was quietly dozing in the evening and stopped talking about how the crowd was moving, where only a few people got the desired place of life. Time no longer belongs to me – time to interact with loved ones, no longer to play a role with the community, no longer to get up at dawn, no longer have to rush to work and jostle with the crowd for a business meeting, no more. fearing the threat of suicide bombing in a crowded place. The sad thing was that I couldn’t touch or feel anything around me and I felt like the spirit was stuck in the earthly dimension and among the genie world. Many thoughts flooded my mind. How could it have happened? I still have so much to do, am I an earth spirit now? Now I feared more than anything else to be alone with my loved ones; I don’t know how to accept that I was dead. I am still obliged to raise my young child, to grow old with my wife, and to see that she is well. Who will help me accept the last episode of my life? I tried to hold my cell phone one last time to call my family, but my hand just passed over the tangible thing. I saw the light pulling me; I needed to decide whether to go into the light or stay stuck in the earthly dimension. I decided to remain a spirit bound to the earth and seek someone who was sensitive to spirits and could help me understand death.

I stayed calm, I cried sometimes, I moved and I learned what the spirit can do. Then the rain started; someone knocked on the door, it was a child seeking shelter, he tried everything to get inside my house until he found a way to get inside. Suddenly I met him and he probably saw me walking past him. “Do you live here?” asked the child.

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