How long had it been since he had been dead?
Aware that he was dead, really?
He wasn’t all that sure, all that he could remember was in splotches. One thing, however was certain: that there had been fire, lots of it. His name was August, August Abbott, he was a strapping young gentleman who was only of age eighteen. He had been born with summer golden blonde hair that his mother made sure he kept combed back, pale skin as smooth as water, and eyes as green as the fresh green grass he would always seen downtown near the meadows and farmlands near the farmhouse that he would always visit. He remember those things, but who his mother was, if he had a father, or perhaps a little sibling, he could never quite remember.
It wasn’t as if the young man had been conversing and being jovial with others to forget said things, because that wasn’t quite the case, far from it actually.
August was lonely.
No one seemed to be able to see the boy even if he were to greet them and bid them good day. “Ah, m’lady! Good day!” or “Greetings, my good sir!” went unanswered and ignored. It had taken him a few centuries to realize that they weren’t ignoring him but more so the fact that they couldn’t see him or hear him. Else they were good at pretending he wasn’t there, he supposed. It was impossible for him to even enjoy the sites of the world changing, as there was no one to enjoy it with.
It made his heart sink, if he still had one. Being a ghost made it all the more confusing. He found himself sitting on a cobblestone wall as he watched the sun begin to set, this was going to be his new home. It was all the things that he could remember. Lush green grass with farm animals and flowers aplenty!
Although he couldn’t remember why he had started coming to the landscape, but the faint voice of mirthful laughter brushed upon his memory. The voice as sweet as marigolds and daisies, it tickled his heart and cause his green eyes to shimmer with an emotion that he couldn’t place. His chest swelled at the thought of such a thing, but he still could not place the sound, it angered him.
“If I still had a heart, no doubt would it be shattered.”, he mused angrily as he let out a tired sigh.
The disadvantage of being dead not only was that his loneliness was beyond compare, but that sleep would do him no good. He was dead, he had no use for sleep, therefore, he didn’t. As night time came around he looked around him. The long dirt roads, fences used to hold in the cattle and the horses, the tall trees that blossomed with a bounty of fruit that would be ready to pick any day now, and the happy houses that families were now currently inside as they ate and got ready for bed, it all hurt him. It was always the happy emotions that he struggled with, the sad ones he recognized without so much as a bat of an eye.
It all made him furious!
Why is it that he could only remember so little?
Why was it that he was forced to be alone without anyone to suffer like him?
Why was it that he had to suffer alone while watching the people around him grow and enjoy life, laughing and making new memories that they would be able to look back on for years to come?
What had he done wrong?
He had made his mistakes, but was this really his punishment?
Heaving a sigh he placed his trembling red face in his hands and let out a choked sob. As always, there was no one to comfort this lonely ghost. The ghost that no one could see, the ghost that no one could hear, and the ghost that no one cared enough to seek out. The only thing that was able to lift his head was the sudden solid hand on his shoulder.