THE JOURNEY OF SHEIRA HART

14 | There's No Wind. Only Ghosts.

The thing about my town is that it is somewhere in between. It's not too big. Not too small either. Just the right size. The city center is big enough to have the things the town needed. Because of its average size, people could get ahold of almost everything that has happened in the city. Or even in the outskirts. An accident--whether they be big or small--would have certainly circulated around the town. They probably heard the news about how one girl from a certain village died.

"I'm sorry, what?" Mikhael said and looked at me as if not believing what I just said.

"To the newspaper stand," I repeated and he just stared at me as I said the most absurd thing in the world. But I wasn't kidding. I was serious.

He let out a breath. "Could you please tell me why or how a newspaper stand is related to all of this?"

I tapped his shoulder. "We're going to look at the news, of course. Maybe they have some news there about a girl who died."

The moment it left my mouth, his eyes lit up as if realizing it. Then I felt his hands clasping my shoulders. "You are a damn genius!"

I flipped my hair. "If it was something like a big accident, then it should have made the newspaper. If it wasn't something trivial, then I could guess I really have fallen from my bike."

He pointed a finger. "You are seriously making sense right now." He ran a hand through his hair. "So where is this newspaper stand?"

I grinned at him. "Do you want to have another race?"

He narrowed his eyes as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. "Just to remind you that your tactic won't work anymore."

I raised my brows at him. "Who says I'm going to use the same tactic again?" I tapped his shoulder and didn't wait for his response and sprang to the air. I heard his colorful swears down below and before he could even catch up, I let the wind take me. I don't know how it works, if I will it, I could somehow make my body move faster. Maybe it's because I am truly one with the wind and I could move like it.

"You are such a cheater," Mikhael said the moment he caught up. I only laughed.

"You didn't say at what count!"

"I was about to say it!"

I raised my hands. "Not my fault." I chuckled. "You would have done the same thing!" I retorted and he just placed a dramatic hand in his chest, as if offended.

"I would never do such cheeky acts!"

I raised my palm. "Talk to my hand, di Angelo."

He just chuckled because we both know between the two of us, he's probably the cheekiest one. I looked down the usually busy street of the city. It's still probably almost 6 in the morning. I could see people, usually old ones having their morning walk. Some were having their morning jogs. I could see some drinking their coffees on coffee stalls on the street. Some were just about to open their shops and stalls. And when I looked at the bakery, it was already open. In front of it, was a stall my dad used to stop to get the newspaper. 

I think my dad has befriended most of the newspaper vendors on this street. I can't blame him. He has always been good at making friends. It's like wherever we go, he'd know someone there because he talked to that person once in a gasoline station or something.

Taxis were already passing by, ready to have their first passengers of the day. The streets are starting to get busy. 

We landed on the sidewalk and I heard Mikhael whistled. "You're getting good at landing. I almost forgot you were screaming your lungs out the first time."

I gave him a bland look. "Could you please not remind me of that not so glorious moment of my life?"

"It was as if you weren't clinging to me for dear life even fully knowing you can't die. Not twice."

"Ugh!" I groaned and started walking towards the newspaper stand. The vendor had just opened his stall and I immediately went to see the newspapers.

I looked at the date and stood frozen. I couldn't remember the day I died.

"What's the matter?" I heard Mikhael said as he stepped beside me. I looked at him and he must have read the confusion on my face as he looked at the newspaper displayed on the rack. He blinked.

"The time in the Afterlife and in here isn't the same so this will be hard. Right now, we might be in the past or in the future," he said and before I could even say something, with a twist of his wrist, he made the newspaper fly drop to the ground without the vendor's notice.

Seeing what he planned to do, I followed him to the quiet alleyway where there were only homeless people, wrapped in their own blankets. We both read the newspaper's front page and realized it's about the election that just happened. I racked my brain about the election. I remember the campaign music every morning outside my room. I remembered I was so pissed off that time that music (which was strangely catchy), woke me up from my sleep. I don't remember when it was but 

I felt Mikhael's hand on my arm as he stared at the newspaper. I looked at what he was looking at and I froze when I saw what was written there.

SHEIRA ADALYNE HART

It was written in bold letters. The last time I saw my name written in bold letters, as far as I can remember, it was probably when I was looking at the bulletin board where I was looking at my exam results. I aced it. It was nothing new. I didn't feel anything as I stared at my name that time. It was something I always see and I got used to it.

But looking at it in a newspaper hits different.

Sheira Adalyne Hart. Below my name was my birthdate and next to it was the date of when I died. That was like three days ago. I died just three days ago. In the Afterlife, I was just there for two days. Or maybe one. Days are way longer there than nights. But more importantly, there should be something written in the newspaper about how I died. I looked at it and it seemed like Mikhael was already reading it.

Sheira Adalyne Hart, a student of Desi High School passed away at 18 due to an accident. Sheira was born and lived in Anacortes, Masonse on August 28, 1998, to parents Maercella and Jacob Hart. She was a top student in her class and excelled particularly in Art.

I stopped reading the newspaper and scoffed. I never excelled in Art. I never excelled in anything. I was just ... average. I am good at a lot of things but never excelled in anything. I wasn't the top student. Sometimes I get high scores. Sometimes, I don't. I'm guessing my father's the one who wrote this.

But more importantly, I died from an accident. Kinda cliché and perhaps my guess about crashing from my bike was true. Maybe I did crash on the bike and died. I looked at Mikhael who was also looking at me.

"You died in a crash," he said and I nodded. Somehow, it doesn't feel that heavy at all. In fact, I barely feel anything. Maybe because what we talked about di Angelo last night helped. Guessing how we died somehow helped ease and prepared myself for what I just read. An accident.

"Does that mean I have already solved my death? That's it, right?"

But Mikhael looked like he's thinking deeply as he stared at the newspaper. "Something isn't right," he said and I furrowed my brows at him. He looked at me. "They gave you two and a half months to find out about your death."

"And? I found it." I gestured towards the newspaper laid on the ground. For the people who couldn't see us, they could only see the newspaper getting flipped by the wind. Except there's no wind. Only ghosts.

"They wouldn't give you that much time if it would be this easy. Something's off."

I stood up, flipping the newspaper's pages. "What's off about this? I died in an accident. End of story. That's what I needed to know. I don't care about the other details."

Mikhael stood up too and his face was serious. It was one of the rare moments that I saw him that serious. Because usually, he's a c***k head.

"Maybe they gave you that much time because they want you to figure out all the details."

I closed my eyes firmly. He's actually making sense. What if that's what they wanted me to do? What if they wanted me to find out all the details? How am I supposed to find out all the details?

"And I noticed one thing," he said and I looked at him questioningly. "I just noticed it the moment I saw the date printed on the newspaper."

"What is it?"

He didn't say a word and just took my wrist only to look at my watch. "Compare the date on your watch and the date in your newspaper."

I did what he said and I gasped at what I discovered. I looked at him, unable to believe what I just discovered too.

"How is this possible?" I asked. He shrugged and with a simple flick of his wrist, he took out the obituary page without ripping the newspaper. "And how is that possible?" I pointed to the obituary page floating towards me.

"I know things," he merely said and I took the obituary page. He then sent the newspaper flying towards the open garbage bin.

"But this—this moment now, this is the past?" I muttered. The date on the watch was a month ahead of that on the newspaper. Not just days ahead but one month ahead! I died a month ago. Not three days ago. Just how f****d up is the time zone in the Afterlife?

"Exactly. This is the past," he said and stuffed his hands inside his pockets, still thinking deeply. "There must have been a reason why were sent here. Aside from knowing how you died, there must be something else."

"This is getting weirder and weirder." He extended his hand before he said, "Give me the page I ripped out."

I gave it to him immediately and his eyes were fast as he read the rest of the obituary.

"Your school," he announced and I looked at him.

"What about my school?" I stared at him as he handed me the page again. Truth be told, Mikhael never strike me as someone who would take things seriously.

"You have friends there, right? Let's see how they're faring a month after your death." A grin escaped his lips. "Who knows, we might be able to see your crush or something." He winked and I gave her a confused look.

"I didn't have a crush."

"Gosh, you're so boring."

"Excuse me?" I looked at him, looking offended but he just laughed. He always does. I want to smack him for it.

He then stared at the piece of paper in my hand. He jerked his hand towards it.

"You might want to read that. I know you didn't read the whole thing."

I scoffed. "That's not necessary. I don't need to read this." I raised the piece of paper.

But then something unexpected crossed his face. It was bitterness. Regret. I don't know. And I was tempted to ask but I stopped myself before my mouth could say things. "Whoever wrote that, they must have loved you very much."

I stared at him for a few moments. And whatever crossed his face earlier, it was gone as soon as it came. There was no trace of bitterness in his face. I might have thought what I saw was just a mistake but I know what I saw. And it wasn't the first time I've seen him with that expression. One thing I learned about Mikhael di Angelo is that he is someone who isn't fond of showing his emotions. He's someone who just sweeps it under the rug. Or maybe pay attention to it for a bit and then hides it again as soon as there's someone else. He doesn't like to show it. And I understand. 

In the Afterlife, I discovered I didn't feel anything about being dead at all, other than being surprised. It wasn't because I was in denial of my death. It was because the Afterlife removes all the sad thoughts, misery, and everything negative from your life. And I wonder if coming here somehow reminded Mikhael of everything from his past. He did say his parents got divorced and have their own family now, leaving him in between. I personally thought it was something difficult. If it were me, I wouldn't know where I belong.

A crooked smile was plastered across his face. His favorite mask, no doubt. Something he's used to doing.

I took a deep breath and looked at him. A grin was plastered across his face. I sighed. I shouldn't be opening up about it. Not when he obviously doesn't want to talk about it. "If your deduction skills are wrong, I'm going to wallop you."

"Harsh. I wonder how you got to the Silver City when you could be the devil's long lost sister."

I didn't say another word and just stuffed the piece of paper inside the pocket of my dress.

I felt him stepped beside me and when I looked at him, he was giving me a sideward glance whilst running his hand through his hair.

"You ready to go back to school?" 

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