This is sureal. I walk down the street feeling hollow. Empty. There are people around, passing me on the sidewalks, driving to and from work, paying me no mind at all. They can't see me. I can see them though. I've been watching them. There's been a melencholy in the air. A sadness. The kind you can feel in the air. It's been oppressing the townspeople, weighing on them their shoulders. Except for the kids. They laugh on occasion and recieve dirty looks from the adults. A word or two of repremand and they're quiet again.

I pass by and no one notices. I try to speak and no one hears. I don't know who I am or what I'm here for. There were others. A woman and her three kids, an elderly man and a younger looking woman. They could see me, they could hear me, they could feel me. I knew them, I know I did. But I just couldn't remember. They're gone now, so it doesn't matter. After the first day, they dissapeared.

It's been three days now. Three days that I've spent moving aimlessly through the town. I've learned three things. One, this is Capeside. Two, It's in Massechusettes. Three, nothing goes on here. It's my fourth day here, and things seem to be livening up a bit. The people are smiling more, laughing sometimes. The adults haven't been reprimanding the children so much when they're playing. I still haven't figured out what has brought them down so much. The newspaper's I've been able to read haven't made any mention of it and none of the conversation's I've overheard directly address what happened. I guess it doesn't matter anymore, they're cheering up finally.

I'm at the creek now. It's strikingly beautiful here. I've come this way often these last few days. There's something about the creek that calls to me...whoever I am. As soon as I walk out sight of the clear waters I feel this strong pull to return. It must have had a strong influence on my life at one time.

I'm dead...it took me a while to realize it. It's all so obvious now though, why they don't hear or see me. Why I can't feel the sun on my back or the cool wind on my face. I'm dead. A ghost flickering through this tiny coastal town.

I don't know who I am or how I died, how long ago I died or why I'm still here. I would have just assumed this is what death is...except for the others who left almost immediatly. They've moved on to whatever comes after death. I must be here for some reason. You always here about ghosts hanging around because of unfinished business. But how can I find my unfinished business when I don't even know my name?

Even if I don't know my name, I'm beginning to learn things about myself. Like, I have a pretty quick temper. I attempt to kick at the tall grasses growing along the creek bank and they move only slightly, not like there's a teenager trampling on them. I'm a mere presense now. Of no consequence what-so-ever. It's a humbling thought. I follow the twists and turns of the creek, letting it lead me along.

I find myself staring hard at two houses, my feet frozen in place. The closest is a large two story, with a ladder leaning up against the porch, the window nearest to it was open, the curtains billowing in the slight breeze. The second house was further a head, a darker shade of white than the first with a white picket fence around the front. I know this place...

I stare harder through the windows, trying to see if any one's inside. There's no one there though, they're all at work or school. I can't help but wonder if the first one was my house. If I played in this yard, swam along side this dock, climbed up this ladder. I'm tempted to climb up the latter now...just to see what the room behind the window looks like.

The pull from the creek is stronger though and the desire to follow it is ingrained in me, allowing me no choice but to continue along it's banks. The reeds shift slightly as I move, but mostly my feet and shins pass through them. Nothing like a teenager is trampling on them. It's odd not to feel and only see it happen, proof positive I'm not whole.

The question's plauge me as I tread on. Who was I? How did I die? Why don't I remember? How can I make myself remember? Is it even possible? Could I be doomed to wander this boring town for the rest of enternity? That's probably the worst of my fears.

Did I have a bright future? Or am I better off dead? Was I a dedicated student or a slacker? Who did I leave behind? Am I missed? Was I loved? That last one...I think I know the answer to.

It's so frustrating having so many questions, but no answers to speak of. My only hope is that I'll run into somtehing that will trigger my memory. Not that that theory has been fruitful so far. All I've felt is a sense of deja vu in someone's yard and a pull towards this damned creek.

Four days and all I know about mseylf is my age, roughly seventeen or eighteen and that I have a quick temper. Hense, my frustration now. I look down at the orange and red hawiian print shirt and khaki shorts I'm wearing. I didn't have much of a fashion sense either. I will, however discover more. I wont give up until I find something. It's not as if I have anything better to do.

I kinda think I may have had a sense of humor too.

This creek is really more of a marsh than any kind of waterway. As I skirt around it's edges, I can see my feet hit the ground, but I don't feel the mud give way beneath my shoes. Nor does it appeart o shift under my weight. I'm not here, I have no weight. I know this is going to take some geting used to. I wonder if I'll be here long enough to get accustomed to it.

My eyes drift to the water, gently lapping at the banks. I learned already that I can't move through doors or walls, but I've yet to try walking on water. I wonder if it will hold me or if I'll sink . If the mud doesn't give way beneath me, why should H2O? I take a step, my shoe moves throught the water and touches the merky bottom.

A tadpole just swam through my leg.

Great.

Apprently all the rules of the living apply to the dead...or the ghosts or whatever I am. No walking through solid objects, or at least signifigant solid objects, you sink in water, you get tired at night. I step out of the water, it looks completely undisturbed. I am so not liking this not being present thing. It makes me wish I'd paid more attention to the movie Ghost.

I continue my journey, the creek continues to call my name...at least it knows who I am. There's a bend and I follow it, my eyes trained ahead. There's a house here, rather large and with a big front porch. There's a sign hanging nearby, but I can't read it from this angle.

I can barely make out a dark haired figure sitting in the stairs. I'm struck with a feeling of familiarity. I know this person. I pick up speed to get a better look at her. It's a woman. I can tell that much by the long stringy hair hanging in front of her face. She's curled up in a tight ball, her amrs wrapped protectivly around her legs as she hugs them to her sweatshirt clad chest.

I come closer. She sniffles and lifts her head to wipe away tears with the cuff of the gray sweatshirt. I can see her face now.

All of a sudden I am deluged with memories. Flashes from my life. My life with her.

I pull back the collar of her new purple dress and drop a handful of sand down her back. She spins around, her brown hair whipping me in the face. There is fire in her brown eyes just before she tackles me to the sand.

I'm splashing her with water from the creek where we both stand waist deep. She reciprocates until a high pitched male voice breaks into our battle. "Guys, stop it, you're getting me wet." She and I exchange a look, and laughing, we gang up on the pudgy blond.

I'm pushing her on the swings as she chants, "Higher, higher."

We're watching a movie about dinosaurs terrorizing the inhabitants of an island. She's on the bed next to the blond, and I'm to the left on the floor.

I'm hugging her a s tightly as I can. She's wearing a black dress and tears of sorrow in her huge brown eyes. I'm wearing my first suit and tears of compassion in mine.

I'm pulling open a door and looking down into a closet at my two friends as they sit giggling. They don't invite me to join in.

She and the blond boy are playing frisbee in the yard, I sneak up behind her, my brand new SuperSoaker 3000 watergun at the ready.

I'm wearing some sort of costume and pulling her into the creek. The little blond boy, not so little anymore, is yelling at us. "He did it again, he grabbed my ass," she yells. "Like you even have one," I grumble back at her.

She's laughing, loudly and unashamed, her eyes dancing. And I'm helpless to do anything but laugh with her.

I'm punching out a sleezy looking guy who's trying to take advantage of her. She collapses to the ground and calls the blond boy her hero.

We're changing out of wet clothes on opposite sides of a sky blue truck. I climb in the cab and sneak a peek. She's beautiful.

We're in the same truck and it's late at night and she's been crying. I brush a tear away with my finger and she whispers, "Thank you. I never would have gone to see him without you."

I'm eating my lunch and watching a long haired blond girl. She joins me, "Just ask her out already!" She demands. "It's not that easy," I reply, still watching the blond. "Yes, it is. 'Will You go out with me, Andie?'" She supplies, imitating my deeper voice. "Maybe," I shrug.

She's painting on a canvas, "Beautiful," I mumble. She whirls around in surprise, "What?" "The, uh, painting," I stammer, having been caught watching her. "It's beautiful."

I'm pulling her from a burning building as flames consume the sign proclaming "The Icehouse." We hold hands tightly as we both wait nervously for loved ones.

We're sitting on the edge of a dock, "It's a new year, who knows, you and I might even be friends." She shoots me a dirty look, "I'm upset enough as it is," she replies, and I put my arm around her.

"Permission to come aboard?" She asks, holding her hand out and squinting up at me. I take her hand, "Permission granted." I reply with a smile, helping her on board the deck of my wrecked sailboat.

We're dancing, or attempting to, at least. With a petulant look, she stands on my feet and I smile at her and take few dancing steps in a circle. She looks around embarressed and pushes me away, but not before I see the gleam of amusment in her eyes.

It's late at night, and I'm covering her with a blanket, a fire roars in the hearth nearby. I settle into a chair, unable to bring myself to leave the room. My eyes settle on her sleeping form.

I'm peeking through a curtain in a large auditiorium, it's not as full as the night before, but there's a large enough crowd. I search the faces for hers, and find it: front row, center. Her lips are curved in a soft smile as she meets my eyes. I take a steadying breath, my nervousness leaving me, and let the curtain fall back into place.

We're at the side of a road, the creek to one side, kissing. We pull apart dazed, and then she's hitting me.

There's a fire burning outside, and I'm walking away from her, my heart aching. Then, she takes my hand to stop me, standing on her tip toes, she kisses me and my heart jumps in my throat.

We're dacing, our bodies mere centimeteres apart. "I remember everything," I whisper in her ear, pulling her even closer.

I'm on my boat, preparing to set sail as I try to ignore her presence. It's just too painful. "I think I'm in love with you." She blurts, and ever nerve in my body tingles. "You think, or you know?" I ask. "I know, she answers without reserveation.

I try to push her off the bow of the boat, she yelps and latches on to my arm and we both go tumbling into the crystaline waters of the Florida Keys in a gale of laughter.

The rain pounds heavily on the dock above us, but it's warm and steamy below deck as we snuggle close in the candle light. She leans in to whisper in my ear, "I want you to make love to me," she murmurs before sitting up and helping me remove my shirt.

She looks utterly terrified as I frown at her, "I'll be right back. I promise." I tell her. She protests, panicked, and I pull her into my arms to whisper in her ear, "I love you, Josephine." I ignore her screams as I turn back to the inferno.

The smoke is too much, and I can't breathe anymore. I have a little girl in my amrs, I don't even know if she's alive. I turn in dazed circle, the heat making me dizzy. I can't breathe. Surrounding me, whichever way I turn are white hot flames, licking over my seared flesh. They keep moving in on me as I gasp for breath, but find only smoke. "Joey," I whisper just as the world fades to black.

It was all over in a flash and I stare, dazed at the girl sitting in front of me. "Joey." I say her name to myself. I'm running the distance between us, "Joey, Joey!" I yell, trying to make myself heard. "I'm here, Joey! I'm here!" She doesn't so much as raise an eyelash in acknowledgement of me. I touch her, "Joey, Jo. I'm here. Please, Joey!" Nothing.

A ghostly tear, runs down my face as I get on my knees in front of her, trying to lift her face to look into my eyes. "Please, Joey. Look at me, Please. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." I plead with her, begging her to look at me, speak to me...anything. "I'm here, Jo. I'm here."

Her shoulders begin to shake with her sobs and all I can do is sit here and try unsuccessfully to brush her tears away. "I'm so sorry, Joey." I whisper, my voice choked. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."