Hi friends. As I have mentioned before, I am having this Writing Project 2015. I am determined to write a novella… or a novel perhaps ( if I can). This is the beginning of my story about a dead girl named Amelia Arson. I would very much like you to comment on it and point out what can be improved. The teaser does not really contain any … plot of the story. But here you go 🙂
Amelia Arson has always been quiet. had. Now that she is dead, it does not really matter, does it? She wished, when she was alive, that she can talk without people prying and judging. Living in a small town away from the big city, your neighbors eavesdrop on your everyday life as if they are paid to do so. The Parsons living next door were tolerable, Amelia thought when she walked by their house for the first time in her second life. She once dreamt about being a spy in her short story, the top female agent in the world who is chosen to sneak into the International Space Fortress and steal the blueprint of the Death Star. A ghost can make a better spy than any living. Now that she has been dead for three weeks, she has learnt quite a lot about the advantages of being a wandering ghost.
First, no one else can see or hear you. She tried to touch her brothers’ hands when they were visiting her corpse in the morgue the day after her death. Amelia felt every gentle, trembling touch from her brothers’ comforting hands on her colorless cheeks from staring down at herself, lying still on the table. The thought of hundreds of corpses waiting to rot on the exact spot where her body was haunted Amelia. “You forget to say goodbye, Amy,” one of her brothers whispered the words out when they could no longer look at their baby sister’s body. The morgue in the Town Hospital was deserted, reserved only for Amelia Arson’s family. She could no longer feel the cold, but she sensed it in her, the shivering brought forth by this room of farewell. Please don’t. Amelia tried with all her strength to tell her brothers that it was okay, she did not even feel any pain. Only her brothers could not hear her. She started with a whimper, standing right next to her brothers. Then she repeated the two words louder and louder until they became a shout. Silence had conquered the room. For the past three weeks, Amelia could not help but feel like she is trapped in a transparent box of unbreakable material, eternally isolated. There came a moment when she wanted to let go and scream. And she screamed. Screamed at the top of her throat. She thought maybe other ghosts can hear me. No. Perhaps every ghost has their own dimension where we are locked in between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Like purgatory.
Second, you do not need to sleep or do anything else. She has not felt tired for the past three weeks, not even after she wandered across the sleeping town all night. She would go back to her house on Evergreen Lane every day like she used to. She would walk into a silent living room with dusted sofas and find the room deserted. The TV would be on to make noise, banishing the suffocating oblivion of voicelessness. Then, she would pace into the kitchen to see her father drinking the horror of her daughter’s death away. Going upstairs, she would always hear her mother’s whimper in the hallway while her brothers lock themselves in their own bedrooms. This home is deader than Amelia Arson herself. Not able to comfort anyone, not even herself, she would go into her room and just lie on her violet bed. The most heartbreaking thing in the world, for Amelia, is seeing your loved one suffer because of you, yet there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Not even a single syllable of comfort can be heard.
You have all the time in the world to think about what you did and did not do before your heart stopped beating. Amelia has all the silence and time for herself to think while her body rots.
-Potential Poet in Training