My modeling in the sexy magazine went well. I wore a leather studded bikini with matching platform boots. A lion was behind me. With my boots, I stepped on the male model, who was handcuffed, and his mouth was covered in two black tapes formed in X’s. He was lying on the grassy field of the forest. The caption in the cover said, “Rocking Femme Fatale.” I loved how the cover looked. I also loved the way I looked. Overall, the cover screamed dangerous, bold, and beautiful. Also, everyone took care of us during the shoot so we were comfortable.
Five years later, I was still making heavy music with my band. We won best metal band in a prestigious awards’ show called Iridescence Awards. I thanked God, my family, my friends, and my boyfriend, Colson Levine, who was a fellow musician. He was a guitarist in an alternative shoegaze band called Luna. We have been together for two years now. After the awards show, we celebrated in the club through a wide variety of heavenly foods and drinks. My bandmates and I met and talked to several fellow musicians and their friends and significant others. Through all these years, I have felt more than comradery with my bandmates. We have been great friends.
I was dead tired and drunk from all the fun I had in the club. Colson drove us home, and we slept together in our bed. I was in a garden. It was a beautiful garden overflowing with luscious flowers, trees, and other plants. The sky was blue and cloudy white, like I was in heaven. Everything felt ethereal and out of this world. I was floating rather than walking amongst the verdant grass. A little girl in blonde pigtails approached me. I smiled at her. But she frowned. Why was she frowning? I asked her that question.
“It’s because you have forgotten me,” the little girl replied in a disappointed tone. A melancholic expression was imprinted on her innocent face.
“Have we met?"I asked her in a curious and worried manner.
“Yes. We were very close. We used to play when you were a kid, and you told me all your problems from when you were little and in your young adulthood. I’ve been wondering all these years why you never spoke to me again.”
I tried to rack my brain for memories with this adorable but sad little girl. But no memory came into my mind.
“I’m sorry if I can’t remember you,” I apologized to her wholeheartedly. “I must have been so busy with my life.”
“That’s what’s wrong with you, people,” she replied angrily. Her little voice was whiny. “When you’re too busy, you forget those who have been with you.”
“I’m deeply sorry,” I responded regretfully. “How can I make this right?”
“Visit your old home, for this is where we met,” she replied briefly and mysteriously. Then she left the garden and entered a wooden door with an ornate golden design. She disappeared like the wind.
I woke up. It was 7:30 am.
Who was she? I didn’t recognize her. I couldn’t remember her. Colson heard my movement upon waking up. He asked me in a groggy voice why I woke up early. I told him about my dream.
“Do you think I should visit home?"I asked him.
“Yeah, you should, if it feels right to you,” he answered sympathetically while he gently wrapped his arms around me. “I believe you will find your answer when you get there.”
“Dreams do tell us something, right?"I tilted my head and faced him.
“Right,” he nodded in agreement.
I told him that I wanted to go there today. It was a winter in March, and it was Saturday. We quickly showered together and threw on some thick clothes afterwards since it was freezing. Then we went to our luxurious car, and he drove us to my hometown. I surprised my family. They didn’t expect us to visit since we came unannounced. But they were pleased with us and welcomed us with open arms, tight hugs, and sweet kisses. I told them that I miss them so much, and they said the same thing to me, and that they were glad to finally meet my boyfriend, Colson. Mom and I cooked dishes for the entire family. We caught up with each other, regaling each other with wonderful stories as we dined altogether happily. I learned that my brother Richard was still at his current job. But aside from that, he gave speeches and talks about science, particularly his favorite topic, insects. He and his team discovered new species of insects all over the world. He was still dating the same woman. Mom and Dad were still working, but they would retire thirty years later. Later on, we had a marathon of new movies.
At night, while I was using the bathroom, which still almost looked the same except it had new paintings that were nature-themed and some scented candles. A wind blew the candles inside and I felt a chill. I felt colder than winter. A note was written in the fog-covered windows: “See me in the garden.”
So after I used the bathroom, I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, wiped them immediately with the towel, and ran to the garden at the back of the house.
There was the blonde little girl in pigtails I saw in my dream. Suddenly, the memories of my bittersweet childhood unfolded before me. This was the girl I was friends with. This was the girl whom I played with in my childhood and shared my problems with aside from my human friends until my young adulthood. She was real; she was not an imaginary friend like I used to believe. She was white and airy, and she was not corporeal. But she was a true friend. My ghost friend. I couldn’t believe I met again. I whispered her name while bursting into tears, “Seraphina.”
“Imogen!"I hugged her. She hugged me. She still felt airy and cold. She was colder than the weather, but I didn’t mind touching her. We walked hand in hand as we explored the heavenly garden my family members lovingly took care of.
We told each other stories of our happiness, sadness, and heartache. She learned about my successes, failures, and love life. I learned about her adventures with her fellow ghosts in the neighborhood and the mysteries that happened in the city. I suddenly remembered that she had to know the cause of her death. She looked downcast and unraveled to me the entire gloomy and horrible truth.
“I actually first discovered the truth when I was reading the old newspapers in your room. Since I had nothing else to do, so I read to pass the time, although it’s eternal,” she chuckled sadly, then looked at me with eyes full of pain. “I was raped by my father in the room. He warned me not to talk about what happened and threatened to kill me with a knife while brandishing it dangerously at me. So I stayed quiet for months. He continued to do it. One night, when my father was away with his drinking and meth-snorting buddies, I secretly told my mother about it. But my mother didn’t believe me and even said that I was dreaming. I defended myself and told her I knew what I saw and I felt what I felt, and it hurt me so bad. It was too painful. But Mother scoffed and laughed at me and said, ‘That’s not true! Your father wouldn’t do such a thing; he was a good man.’ She believed he was good despite being a wifebeater and a drug addict. She slapped me hard.
A year went by. The rape continued. But one afternoon, upon returning from the market, she saw him raping me in their own room. The door was open. In deep shock, she dropped the fish and vegetables on the floor and shrieked. She ran to the kitchen and took a knife. She attacked my father, but he quickly blocked her attack and plunged the knife in the center of her chest. Mother fell and died on the floor. A river of blood surrounded her. I screamed and cried. Then I felt a plunge from my back to my chest. I spat out blood; I fell down. Darkness filled my eyes. I was no more. He knew that I was going to tell my brothers and then the police about what happened, so he prevented me from doing so by ending my life.
In my father’s troubled, chaotic, and drug-induced mind, his life was worthless, so he killed himself. There was no reason to live. But for me, his life was downright pathetic.”
She said the last sentence with such deep hatred and weird but understandable satisfaction.
“I’m so sorry for what you have been through,” I cried while listening to her story. “I don’t know what to say. I’m lost for words. "It's good that he killed himself, but I didn’t say that.
“It’s okay. I have forgiven him. But I will never forget everything he did to me and my family members forever.”
I embraced her again, this time tighter. Warmth touched my skin. She became human for a few seconds.
“Thank you for listening to me and for being my friend. I will never forget you,” she said to me in her sweet and loving voice.
“Forget me? Why do I have a feeling that you are saying goodbye?"I asked her. My voice cracked as I sobbed tears.
She touched my hair and pulled it away from my face and kissed my cheek. Her kiss was tender. “You know my stay here on this mortal realm is temporary, right? And yours is, too. No one stays here forever. I love you, but I have to say goodbye, my dear friend Imogen.”
She became a ghost again. But this time she was more transparent, whiter, and airier than ever. She also felt lighter.
“Until we meet again, my sweet friend, Seraphina,” I said in between heartbreaking sobs.
She floated above; her white dress flowed in the air. She left this real and ascended to heaven.
I was alone. But I promised we would meet again. I intend to keep my eternal promise to her.