Haunting

It's dark. That's your first thought as you become conscious. Your vision is blurry and your brain feels like it's in a fog. Looking around, you can't tell where you are. With growing panic, You realize you don't even know WHO you are. You can't remember anything! What the hell? Do you have amnesia? Were you in an accident? Okay, one thing at a time. There is a faint light coming in through what appears to be a shuttered window on either side of this large, space--dusty boxes piled high, sheet-covered furniture, and an overwhelming sense of isolation. Some sound reaches your ears, footsteps on stairs, coming nearer. A door creaks open, more light behind it, silhouetting the head that leans in and looks around.

A harsh, fluorescent light flickers on as the figure flips the switch next to the door, casting long, dancing shadows across the room, which is clearly an attic. In the doorway stands a young man dressed in denim shorts and an old Star Wars t-shirt. The light reveals the room, a large attic, scattered boxes here and there, what looks to be several pieces of furniture covered with dusty sheets. The guy in the doorway is fairly young, early 20's maybe, an athletic build but not overly so, with curly hair. He steps into the room and looks around at all the stuff, but ignores me completely, even though I'm standing right in the middle of the room.

"Um. Hi," You greet him. Master of first impressions, that's you. He doesn't answer, but looks towards some of the furniture, so you try again. "Can you tell me what's going on?" Still ignoring you, he walks over to one of the cloth covered pieces of furniture, a tall, thin object with a rounded top. Starting to get annoyed at this punk, you get a little more forceful. "Hey. You. Who are you? Where am I? Hey, I'm talking to you!"

He looks mildly curious as he pulls the sheet off with a flourish, sending a cloud of dust flying into the air. Under the cloth stands a large, round, stand-up mirror, its surface tarnished with age. He looks at his reflection noticing the dust covering the glass despite the cloth covering. Dammit, you are gonna make this kid talk to you! Walking up behind him, you start to reach out to grab his shoulder. As soon as you enter the mirror's reflection, however, his eyes open in surprise as he focuses on you for the first time, your eyes meeting in the reflection of the dusty mirror. He whirls around to face you, his expression one of confusion and apprehension. You're about to repeat your questions, but hesitate as he looks around the room, searching. His eyes pass right over you several times. "What the fuck was that?" he asks, his question remarkably similar to your own thoughts. You stand there staring stupidly at him. Turning back around, he looks in the mirror again, focusing over his shoulder where you're standing, but his gaze is still off to the side and focused passed me. "I could have sworn I saw someone," he mutters to himself, turning and heading back towards the door.

Jumping in front of him to keep him from leaving, you try again. "Wait a second. You gotta give me some answers here." The boy keeps walking...

...right through you!

He pauses, shivering and rubbing his arms as if suddenly cold. Scanning the room one more time, his expression changes to one of sudden realization. "Holy shit!" he exclaims. "That was a ghost! This place is haunted! That's so fucking cool!" He hurries forward, turning off the light on his way out the door, which he closes firmly behind him.

Mouth hanging open, I stare at the door he just left through in shock. "What in the ever-loving hell just happened?? That's not... that can't..." After a moment, you check out the mirror having no difficulty seeing yourself. You're a tall, muscular guy, bald, but with a black goatee. Mid-to-late-30's. Seeing your reflection, a name finally surfaces. "Mack. My name is Mack." And somehow, as impossible as it sounds, you know the young man was right.

You're a ghost.

You're dead.

Now what?