{"sf1_id":352023,"sf2_id":"RnoWxRpn","title":"Ghost","author":"Xandie","words":402,"posted_at":"2012-03-10T06:22:00.000Z","tags":["Contemporary","Depressing","Emotion","Psychological","Realistic"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/352023-ghost","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/RnoWxRpn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/82/09/8209a053-51ed-464f-ae79-7ea408883b90","description":"self insertion narrative poetry...","content":"Ghost\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nIt is late\n\nPerhaps the early hours of morning\n\nDarkness engulfs everything\n\nYou walk on silent feet\n\nNo footsteps left to follow after you\n\nNo destination planned for this journey\n\nMerely moving\n\nAimless and alone\n\nNo inclination of the place from whence you came.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe sidewalk is dirty\n\nCrumbling with the memory\n\nOf years of feet just the same as yours\n\nAll appears quiet\n\nThe low buzzing hum of the nightlife is faded by now\n\nMuted in the dull light of the streetlamps\n\nEverywhere, there is calm the smell of dew, fresh dirt, and decaying leaves lingers\n\nThe odor of stale urine passing on the breeze\n\nAs you wander passed a deserted bus terminal\n\nIs almost nauseating\n\nBut the cool air is pleasant enough\n\nTo forgive the passing scent.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe shrieking of a lone swing\n\nIn an abandoned playground\n\nCatches your idle notice\n\nA child sits upon the solitary swing\n\nPale fingers wrapped tightly around its chains\n\nLegs pumping with practiced ease\n\nYou watch the child avidly,\n\nPausing in your steps\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThere is nothing unique about him\n\nHe is not an exceptional child in any way\n\nHe is not beautiful\n\nNor ugly\n\nHe is not normal\n\nNor odd\n\nHe is merely there\n\nSwinging back and forth\n\nStaring into the distance behind you\n\nAt nothing in particular\n\nUnaware of your quiet scrutiny.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThere is something about him\n\nIt pulls at you\n\nYou wonder\n\n'Why is he here?'\n\n'Why alone?'\n\n'What is it he's looking at so intently?'\n\nNo answers come to mind\n\nAs you turn to follow his gaze\n\nNothing but darkness greets your eyes\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe shrieking of the ancient swing set stops abruptly\n\nYou glance back for the cause of the sudden quiet\n\nThe child is gone\n\nDisappeared\n\nThe swing does not move.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nYou look around\n\nYou ponder\n\n'Where did he go?'\n\n'Why did he leave?'\n\n'And so quickly?'\n\nThere is no sign of him at all\n\nOr any inkling of where he might have gone\n\nBut you do not worry for the child\n\nYou are at peace\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nYou stand\n\nStaring unblinkingly at the motionless swing\n\nThe deserted playground whispers around you\n\nYour body remaining still in the hush that falls\n\nYou did not see his departure\n\nThe swing does not sway with the remembrance\n\nOf his body\n\nYou question\n\n'Was he ever there at all?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nCopy-written to Xander Bradeshaw.\n\n  \n  \n\n"}