Love for the Wicked
Entry Nine
Journal Entry 9, November 15.
This will by my final journal entry. I am dead, and ghost's don't write.
I died on August 12. Almost 2 and a half months before Nieya killed herself. I jumped off the top of our apartment building. I was depressed and killed myself. It's as simple as that. No one has talked to me for so long because I am dead. And you can't see ghosts. They're just there. Waiting in the shadows, waiting to reach out and pull your hair or move an object about a room. They are real, I am real, Nieya is real.
Nieya stands a few yards in front of me. Her black hair lifeless in the blowing wind.
The cemetery is empty, except for us. We stand near my grave, which is only a few
plots over from hers. She wears a white gown, and her brown eyes are still empty.
Nieya reaches her hand out, but I ignore it for a moment longer, turning back down
to my journal.
.. They are not figments of imagination.. and just because you can't see them doesn't mean they can't see you.
This will by my final journal entry. I am dead, and ghost's don't write.
I died on August 12. Almost 2 and a half months before Nieya killed herself. I jumped off the top of our apartment building. I was depressed and killed myself. It's as simple as that. No one has talked to me for so long because I am dead. And you can't see ghosts. They're just there. Waiting in the shadows, waiting to reach out and pull your hair or move an object about a room. They are real, I am real, Nieya is real.
Nieya stands a few yards in front of me. Her black hair lifeless in the blowing wind.
The cemetery is empty, except for us. We stand near my grave, which is only a few
plots over from hers. She wears a white gown, and her brown eyes are still empty.
Nieya reaches her hand out, but I ignore it for a moment longer, turning back down
to my journal.
.. They are not figments of imagination.. and just because you can't see them doesn't mean they can't see you.