Papa
Do you believe in ghosts?
I didn't, until I met Papa.
My mom was having another argument with grandpa. I personally sided with grandpa, though I was never included in the arguments. I just didn't see the point of buying several acres of land which my mother has just done. She thinks she's meant to have them because they belonged to papa. We owned a bar, a big house, a farm and now a few acres of land. The row lasted three hours and soon I was sent to bed. I laid awake worrying. What if grandpa left? Papa had died in the war two years ago. If grandpa left, mom will have nobody. Just like me. I didn't go to school so I had no friends. Just then, my door opened but there was nobody there.
I thought it must have just been my imagination but more things where happening, things with no explanation. I couldn't stand another row between my mom and grandpa, so I explored. I don't know where I went, but I ended up in the bar. As I entered, a deadly silence rang in my ears. A clatter of dishes fell upon stone. As I peered over the counter several dishes where floating back onto the surface. Several old mugs, a spoon, a dusty bottle of whisky and a towel. I jumped out of my skin but my feet where glued to the stone. The mugs drifted over to empty tables. I followed the flying mug to the table but I noticed a very old, dusty mirror. Using my sleeve, I wiped away the dust. I jumped back a mile when I saw what I did in the mirror. I was not alone!
I looked behind me, but all I saw where empty stools not the slightest sign of life. In the mirror I saw men all in uniform, looking back at me. A man smiled and they began to laugh and clunk their jugs full to the rim with whisky. The Barman was mopping up spilt ale. When I looked behind me the towel was mopping up, though nobody was in sight. I no longer felt afraid but I felt joyful, like I should be singing with the men (though they sang out of tune). Mugs where lifting themselves to mouths of invisible people. In the mirror, I saw a handsome man; he put his hand on my shoulder. I reached out to him but finding I was clutching my own skin. "Papa!" I whispered. He smiled.
"I've missed you!" he told me, as he laid an invisible hand on my back.
"Why are you here?" I asked him. His transparent face frowned solemnly.
"When we were at war with Germany, I, like many before me, died and our souls where stored on the battlefield. The land that you bought was the ground in which I fell!" said my papa. He smiled.
Do you believe in ghosts? I didn't, until I met papa.