A Visitor

"RALEIGH!!" a strangely familiar voice echoed. I was shaken awake by the sheer vibrations running through the room. My few photos of my mother I had hanging on the wall, fell onto my cheap wooden floor and broke in their frames. "Who is there?" I called to nowhere, sounding braver than I was.

My eyes were searching frantically for the intruder. Finally, they settled on my scarcely-used fireplace, where it was turning a strange greenish glow. A shadow or a wisp of smoke, maybe even a hallucination of my own creation, was appearing in front of my fireplace, becoming more solid and distinguishable every time I blinked (which I was doing quite rapidly, trying to be rid of this apparition).

"Why Raleigh, you do not recognize the voice of your own mother? I should be disgusted!" Tears started to pour from my eyes and I suddenly felt ashamed, not for crying, but for crying in front of another being. I have mourned my mother and the path her ways led me, but I was always alone, nobody to see my tears or even to care.

It was my mother's voice, so sweet and yet firm, reinforcing the message it would speak of. "But, of course," she continued, "it is my fault…..It was wrong of me to leave you here on this earth alone when I am the one who crafted you to be alone in the first place."

I had a sort of flashback; you may call it, of my first day at school … I knew my mission: listen intently to the teachers, write down notes, study for tests, and learn to the best of my ability. My mother had these 4 instructions drilled into my head. There was nothing that dealt with interactions with other people like classmates, nothing that prepared me for kids wanting to put their filthy hands on my things, or teasing me for my shrewdness: "bookworm" or "nerd" they called me.

I would come home each day to my mother, spilling my worries and fears, thoughts, my problems and uncertainties. I might have wanted to change, but my mother stood by her belief that we need NO-ONE! ; And I listened to her… I have kept this way of life, my own unique culture, if you will, passed down by my dear deceased mother, who is now apparently floating in my fireplace. "As nice as this reunion is," my mother spoke again, disrupting my chain of thought," the real purpose of me coming here has not yet been informed to you." True, I thought. There has been no explanation of how my DEAD mother is here talking to me. She then made herself identified by appearing in the flesh.

I almost gasped of horrified astonishment as a gaunt effigy of my mother came down from my chimney. Her once so full and beautiful eyes now sunk into her head, midnight black hair turned to the dirtiest of grays, and already pale skin has become the lightest I have ever seen, decorated with veins that seemed to hold the least amount of blood possible. The thing that really has me shaken was her lips; the lips that would speak reassuring words through the teasing, the ones that would kiss me to bed after a particularly difficult day, now almost disappeared, their paleness blending in with her skin, all wrinkled and chapped with no life whatsoever. I fiercely wiped away the heaviness in my heart that had spilled through my eyes.

My mother started to talk again, pretending she didn't notice my tears. "I am saving you from a fate that I had condemned you to since the day you were born. I walk amongst this earth for eternity now, hearing the world's pain and knowing I can do nothing about it… but you can.

Let me send 3 spirits to show you your mistakes. I am not blaming you, Raleigh, but me instead. All I want to do is help you…please!" She finished her discussion with a begging edge to her voice, and I knew she was sincere. I was still not entirely convinced that she would lead me down such a horrible path, but at least now she was trying to correct it.

"I will attempt to fix my life, if only for your sake," was all I could mutter through my gasps and sobs. It would appear she thought it was enough, for she disappeared through my fireplace once again, leaving me alone to my thoughts. What would these spirits look like? How will they attempt to straighten this ever crooked trail? The clock now read 7:08pm and I had barely an hour of sleep before my surprise. I fell down once more on my bed, exhausted.