One World Away

I had thought about the stranger enough throughout the years to remember who he was, and as a young child, I often thought about what I would say, what I would ask him, if I ever saw him again. As I stood in my doorway and gawked at his form, though, I couldn't come up with anything but, "You're back."

He nodded and stood, only to bow, bending at the waist and lowering his head. "Yes, I am," he confirmed in a voice that I could pull from my distant memory with no problem at all. It was smooth, neither high nor low, and there was a certain European drawl to it, one that someone who had lived in New England during the early 1800's would have.

I didn't move, didn't scream and run like most people would if they were in my current situation. Instead, I just stood dumbly, staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. The only thing that conveyed what I was feeling inside were thousands of tiny goosebumps forming all over my skin.

He waited for my recovery, watching me with a creased brow as he bit his thin bottom lip.

"Uhm, wh- what exactly are you here for?" I questioned, steadying myself on the wall next to me.

I wasn't quite sure what to think. If history was correct, as I assumed it was, this man had died centuries ago. He was supposed to be rotting underground, nothing but a pile of bones in a box, yet, there he was, standing in front of me, looking pretty alive to me.

"Ah, it's a story of great length," he told me, reaching up and scratching the back of his head.

Frowning, I took a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything, and I asked what I really wanted to know. "What are you?"

A small smile formed on his face, and he slowly sat back down. "I am a manifestation."

"A what?" I inquired.

Brian Haner, Jr. chuckled softly before putting it into simpler terms, "A ghost." Part of me knew that already, but I needed to hear it from his own mouth, which soon twisted to form the word, "Boo."

I took a step forward and cocked my head. "You look too solid to be a ghost."

He laughed once again, a harmonious little tune, then held a hand out. "See for yourself."

I regarded him with raised eyebrows and shook my head as quickly as I could. "No thanks."

It was all probably a dream. Maybe I had just never woken up at Abbeline's house, and I was dreaming all of this, because it really couldn't have been happening. My parents had to be right. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

I let myself slowly slide down the wall, landing on my bottom with my knees up by my chest, the look of disbelief still on my face.

"S- so, what was it that you needed?"

It seemed impossible to tear my gaze away from him. He was surely a sight to see, not only because he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, but also because, for a ghost, he was pretty attractive. I hadn't noticed the first time I had met him because I paid no attention to physical appearance as a child, but as an eighteen year old girl, I definitely picked up on it.

Shaggy, ebony hair fell just to his chin and framed his angled features, and two eyes the shade of whiskey held a hint of amusement as he watched me breathe deeply and assess him. Thin lips tied his handsome face together and made him seem almost wicked, but only in the best of ways. That vanished however, when he broke out into a large grin.

"Are you alright, dear?"

I inhaled sharply and showed my best are- you- retarded? expression. "No, I am not alright, dear. There is a ghost sitting in my room right now!"

He bit back some laughter, but couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "Well, I apologize for frightening you."

"You're supposed to be dead!" I practically shouted.

"I am dead," he reminded me.

I held up my shaking hands and shook my head, trying to clear him from my mind and possibly make him disappear, but when I looked up again, he was still sitting in front of my desk, staring at me and waiting. I deflated entirely. "Alright, seriously, what do you want?"

This was not happening.

He crossed an ankle over the knee of his other leg and leaned back in what was probably a "newfangled contraption" to him but was a simple office chair to me. "At this particular moment, I only desire your company."

For a moment, I could only peer up at him from my place on the floor, no words coming to mind. He just wanted to hang out and spend some time with me? I was expecting something more like, "Get out of my house," or "I need you to dig up my body," not, "I only desire your company."

"Th- that's all?"

He nodded and flashed a sweet, sincere smile that calmed me down just a little bit.

I was uncomfortable with the situation. That was for sure. There was a two hundred year old "manifestation" sitting, staring at me, and as far as I was concerned, that didn't just happen to normal people, but since he wasn't planning on doing anything destructive that I knew of, I figured (in a single flash of clarity) that befriending a ghost was probably one of the most outlandish, unrealistic, most amazing things anyone could ever do, and I had the chance to.

"Well, okay, I guess you can hang around here, if you'd like."

The ghost beamed. "Thank you, Miss Leigha."

I held a hand up as I rose to my feet. "You don't have to call me Miss, just Leigha."

He frowned but nodded. "Right, the times have changed. I suppose you may address me as Brian, then."

"I won't if you don't want me to."

"No, no, please do," he requested.

I eyed him for a moment, before shrugging and listening to him. "Okay, Brian, whatever you say."

We sat in silence for a while, and I realized that the goosebumps had finally gone away on my arms and legs. I didn't know what to say to him. "So, how was life back when it sucked?" "How'd you like dying?" "Tell me about George Washington." I didn't think any of those were very good chat starters.

Thankfully, he initiated the conversation. "So, um, Leigha, tell me about yourself."

"Uh," I thought for a few seconds, pacing over to my bed and sitting on top of it before revealing any information I thought was at least a little important to who I was. "I'm an eighteen year old female who lives in the year 2008. I go to The Central Vermont Catholic School. My real dad passed away when I was two, and my mom remarried to Nicholas a year later. I've always lived in Montpelier, but I moved to this house with my mom after the wedding. I have one best friend named Abbeline Fletcher, and I'm still a little freaked out about the whole you being dead thing," I rambled off, staring at him intently.

Pushing some hair from his face, he chuckled. "Is there anything I can do to calm your nerves?"

I shook my head. "Probably not."

Brian looked genuinely disheartened at the fact of not being able to help me, his face falling just a little. "I apologize. If you find there's a way, please inform me at once."

"I will," I promised, nodding my head. "Anyway, what about you? Your life was probably a lot more interesting than mine was."

The light returned to his face, but he shook his head. "That is a story for another day, my dear."

I pouted, but didn't persist. "Okay, well, I'm about to change into some pajamas, so could you, like, stand outside, or something for a minute?"

His cheeks reddened a tad bit, and he stood up quickly, nodding and walking past me and to the door. His footsteps made no noise on the floor, and instead of opening the door, he just disappeared through it. I let out a long exhale as I gawked in his direction, staying seated for a little while longer before getting up on wobbly legs to change into a pair of sleep pants and a tank top.

Again, I told myself that it couldn't be real, that when I opened the door to let Brian in, he wouldn't be there, but when I paced over to it and turned the handle to reveal what was outside, he was waiting for me in the hallway, and it felt like it was the first time I saw him all over again. It was the same shock to my system, the same curiosity and unfamiliarity that I felt toward him, the same unnerving sensation that I feared I would never get used to.

"Are you decent?" He questioned, and I nodded, stepping aside to let him back into my room.

I wasn't allowed to have males in my room even though I was a legal adult, but I didn't think Brian really counted. He was deceased, after all.

"I'm going to go ahead and lay down, but I'll keep talking until I doze off, okay?" I was still tired, especially after this entire event. My entire mental state was exhausted.

The man shook his head in approval and took his seat once again as I shimmied under the covers of my bed. He glanced around the room, taking in the decorations and furniture before finally stating, "This used to be my room."

I looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

He nodded. "Of course, it was a little different back then."

"I, uh," I examined the walls as he did, gnawing on my bottom lip before finishing, "I hope you don't hate it."

He frowned and assured me that he didn't. "It's a little more feminine now, but it remains as nice as it was when I occupied the space."

I was a little confused, not knowing if it had been a compliment or not, but I settled with a, "Thank you," anyway.

The conversation was awkward and came in little bursts. I found Brian's voice extremely relaxing, though, and sooner rather than later, I found myself slipping in and out of consciousness until I finally left my twisted reality and fell into a deep sleep where I didn't have to worry about anything, not my somewhat overbearing parents, not my irritating therapist, and definitely not the presence of a ghost.