I was running. I don’t remember why, I don’t remember when, all I know is that I was running. It was a chilly Summer night, and the air was still recovering from the heavy downpour of rain we had received a few days prior. I stupidly hadn’t put any shoes on, I hadn’t thought to. I was in my thin pajama shorts and a tank top, but I was not cold. I felt invigorated by the biting pain that came with each rock my foot came into contact with. I enjoyed the numbness of my fingers. It was better than at home, where it was warm, comfortable, but stressful.
See, I had just entered a period in my life that I like to call “The Angst Zone.” When in The Angst Zone, anything and everything can piss you off. And when things piss you off, you might let your hair fall in front of your face and maybe spurt a few emotional words about how nobody understands you, or your heart is too black to care anyway. Then you hunch your shoulders as scoliosis-inducingly as you can, pulling a well-practiced pout and marching out the door.
I had done just that this evening, Angsting about something I don’t remember anymore. At some point I arrived at a peeling, crooked black gate. It guarded the entrance into the lush green hills beyond our community. I found the entrance past the gate, made small just for humans to pass. Once past it, I began running full speed up the hill. I hadn’t intended to come here when I departed from my bedroom out the broken screen on my window, but I didn’t question my legs’ judgment. I was full-angst.
I reached the top, tears running down my cheeks. I was so angry! How could my parents have been so cruel to me?! I grabbed the rope swing that I had come for and forcefully jumped onto it. The old tree holding it up creaked in protest, but I ignored it. I let the cold wind whip my hair back and forth as I swung and pouted and thought about how much I would make them pay as soon as I got my hands on a Flamethrower permit.
The methodical sounds of the wind and the cars below soothed me. I let out a shaky breath, relaxing as the swing slowed its movements. My bare feet dangled just above the ground, sometimes grazing soft dirt and tall green grass. My tears had dried, my adrenaline settled back into my heart. I was finally aware of the pain, chill, and fatigue that had taken over my body. My head lolled back, I loosely gripped the swing with one hand and toyed with a flower with the other.
While hanging upside down on the swing my eyes grazed the landscape. There was grass everywhere, a fence lined the ridge, keeping local bovines from invading our posh and proper country club. My eyes wandered a bit more, then hooked onto something strange.
Scratch that. It wasn’t strange, it was perfectly normal to me. Had anyone else seen this, they would have thought something along the lines of “Gee golly, that sure is strange,” or maybe “Holy crap, why is there a creepy teenager watching that little girl?!”
He was leaning against the tree, his arms folded and a bored expression on his face. He appeared to be about sixteen years old, and had a too-big bright red hoodie on, with the hood pulled down at his neck. His hair was jet black, and his eyes were a startling color, like orange-gold. His pupils were different too, they were shaped like a snake’s slits. He wore dark jeans that pooled slightly at his ankles like they were too long for him, although he was fairly tall. Clean white socks with the toes and heels colored turquoise were the only things covering his feet, and his skin was dark bronze.
I stared at him for a moment. He hadn’t turned to look at me, he was just glaring at the ground. I thought for a moment, weighed my options, then turned back to him and asked,
“Who are you?”
The boy seemed startled by the question. He finally turned to me, analyzing me like I was some creepy old guy at a park who had just offered him an ice cream cone. Then his face grew angry and he turned away from me, pouting.
“Oh, nobody important,” He said, giving a ‘humph’ worthy of any Angst-Zoner. Oh boy.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, faking curiosity and innocence. Er--rather, I was faking innocence. I was genuinely curious. I rose from my upside-down state and planted my feet in the ground, preventing the swing from drifting away from this boy. He smirked, I could tell that he had wanted me to ask that.
“Hmm, nobody important to you, obviously. Since you have never tried to talk to me.” He accused, glaring at me. I suddenly became very self-conscious of my actions this past month or so.
The boy had appeared one day. I don’t even know when it was. He just happened. That part of this story has always been unclear. I had tried asking other friends about him, but none of them seemed to be able to see him. This made me extremely unsure about what he was. A ghost maybe? Or perhaps a guardian angel? An imaginary friend gone wild? I knew I could cross the last one off the list, though.
I’d had imaginary friends before, Nicole from first grade. The difference between her and the boy was that I knew Nicole wasn’t actually there. No matter how hard I tried, I could still see straight through her. With the boy, he obstructed my vision. If he were to stand in front of the TV, I would not be able to see the show without having him move aside.
So I was stuck with ghost or angel. I figured I could cross angel off my list, too, because in all the stories I’d read, they were all dressed in white and only appeared during dire times of people’s lives. For this reason, I was incredibly on-edge and paranoid for the first few weeks of seeing him. I thought, “If he’s an angel, that means that I’m in like, a lot of danger.” I was wary of every single stranger that passed me, my thoughts going a mile a minute.
I thought surely, he’s protecting me from a stalker or a serial killer or a rapist of some sort! Why else would an angel be here?!
After about two and a half weeks of constant paranoia, it became evident that that was all it was: paranoia. The boy was no angel, and I was in no danger.
My final option was the most terrifying: ghost. I was being haunted by a teenaged ghost. Because I thought I knew he was a ghost, I did my very very best to ignore him. What would you do if there was a ghost constantly in the corner of the room, trailing five feet behind you at all times?
Some of you may try to communicate with it, but I was no fool. I had watched eight seasons of Supernatural, and if there was anything I had learned from those hot brothers Sam and Dean, it was that vengeful spirits are not the kind of guys you want to invite over for tea and cookies.
Tonight, however, I was high on hormones and buzzed on Angst, thus my judgment was clouded. How could I explain that to him? “Oh, sorry, I’ve been ignoring you because you’re an evil ghost that’s coming to haunt me! I decided to talk to you today because I actually am not in my right mind!!”
“Uh, I’m… Sorry?” I replied. Nice going, Lorien. Give him an incredibly dry, weak apology and see how he reacts. Perfect.
He let out another humph, then shrugged, unfolding his arms and walking up to the swing. He gripped the thick rope and pushed me lazily back and forth.
“I suppose I can forgive you, if you promise not to ignore me again,” He said, his voice condescending and aloof. I sighed and rose from the swing.
“Fine. But I hope you understand that nobody else can see you.” I snapped. Jeez, this kid was annoying. Suddenly, the first flicker of a laugh erupted on his face, before he exploded, clutching his sides and tilting his head towards the sky. I was completely and utterly perplexed.
“You… You really are stupid, aren’t you?!” He gasped, still laughing. “Of course nobody else can see me! Did you think I was unaware of that?! Man, you’re such an idiot!” He laughed even harder at my embarrassed and angry face. My cheeks burned and I stared at the ground.
“Look, Orchid! Don’t call me an idiot! I just didn’t want you to get too disappointed when I don’t talk to you when other people are around!” I shouted. Then I turned on my heel and marched down the hill, perfectly content with leaving that jerk behind and never speaking to him again. What was I thinking, talking to him?! He’s probably this mean because he’s bitter about his death. How did he die anyways? Does the death of the spirit determine whether or not you become a ghost?
Oh well, I don’t care anyway! I thought, continuing down the hill. I was so blinded by my petty feelings of rage, I didn’t think to look where I was going. Before I knew it, my foot had plunged into a snake hole, causing me to stumble. The hill was pretty steep at this point, so I would’ve gone careening down it until I landed in the concrete ditch at the bottom.
“Hey!” Orchid shouted, grabbing my elbow. I hadn’t even noticed that he was there until he was saving my clumsy hide from destruction. Er, rather, lots of pain and perhaps a sprained ankle. Because he was there to catch me, I was given just enough time to dig my heels into the dirt and stop myself.
“Watch where you’re clomping!” He shouted, helping me up. “Look at you! You scratched up your knees and you’re all dirty. Come on, you’re going home right now!” He rambled, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the hill.
My thoughts were going a mile a minute. Why had he caught me? He struck me as the kind of person that would not save someone he just got into an argument with. Was it because I was the only one that could see him, therefore he would just go out of existence if I died? No, the fall wasn’t fatal, it would have just been painful. Did he actually… care about me? It was too much to think about.
“Uh, th-thanks for that,” I said weakly, avoiding looking at him. We reached the base of the hill, and he let go of my hand. He seemed pretty bashful about it, shrugging slightly.
“You’re welcome. It’s just…” He trailed off, then turned towards me. “Look. If we’re gonna be friends, I can’t have you getting in danger, okay?” I found it hard to meet his eyes, they were so weird, but really cool.
“Huh, you really are a guardian angel…” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” He asked. “Angel?” I blushed, then shook my head.
“Oh, nothing! I was just thinking… What are you?” I asked. We began walking out the gate and down the street to get back to my house.
“Uh, isn’t it obvious? I’m a human.” He said, gesturing towards himself. Human? No way, buddy.
“Are you sure…?” I asked, not wanting to sound insensitive. Still, he couldn’t really think that he was human. Nobody else could see him, hear him, or feel him.
“Yeah, I’m human,” He said, more forcefully this time. I could tell it was sort of a touchy subject, but I was still curious.
“Then… Why can’t anyone else see you? Or hear you?” I asked. Orchid tensed up a little bit, then lifted his feet up and floated beside me. My eyes widened.
“And how can you do that?!” I exclaimed. He smirked, then turned upside down and pretended like he was walking on the sky.
“How did you know my name?” He asked. I stopped in my tracks. Orchid grinned, then poked my forehead. “Checkmate.”
How did I know his name? It just floated into my head, just like he floated into existence. I wasn’t sure when, or how. I was positive that I wouldn't have come up with that name for him if I had been given the power to name him. Orchids are sweet-smelling, soft purple flowers. His personality matched better with a skunk-thistle.
“I don’t know…” I said. “But you never answered my questions!”
Orchid sighed. He floated back down to the ground and walked alongside me again. He made a face like, ‘this kid isn’t going to give up, isn’t she?’ then turned to me, wearing a gigantic phony grin.
“I’m a special kind of human, oh joy!” He said, sarcastically clapping his hands. Then his face fell back to its eternal bored-and-slightly-annoyed expression. “See, when each normal human is born, they get a special human to accompany them through life and whatever. The problem with that system is that we get ignored. Like a lot. Rarely does a person come around who can actually see us, and it’s even rarer that the person pays attention to their companion through adulthood.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head slightly to the side. Time seemed to stop for him just then, he stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. After a few moments, he blinked, then continued walking as if nothing ever happened. What was that? I thought, then jogged to catch up to him.
“Ever heard of imaginary friends?” He asked. I nodded, my thoughts drifting to my invisible companion, Nicole.
“Not that brat,” he snapped. I flinched.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You were thinking of Nicole, the brat you created when you were in first grade.”
I blinked. How had he known about Nicole?
“I’m talking about real imaginary friends,” He said, poking my forehead once again. Real imaginary? Talk about an oxymoron. I muttered a protest, but he ignored me. “Like the kind you can actually see. Ask some of your friends if they ever had an imaginary friend. Chances are that they can tell you exactly what they looked like, their name, their personality…”
I vaguely remembered my friend, Isabel, telling me about a friend named Get-Bug, who was her childhood husband and playmate. They owned a ten-car garage, one car for each of their ten imaginary children. They had a video of Isabel explaining the whole thing somewhere (I mentally reminded myself to ask Melanie, her older sister, about it next time I saw them. Because blackmail). But it didn’t seem probable that Get-Bug was the same as Orchid.
“Whatever. Did that answer your question?” He asked, clearly seeing that I wasn’t going to get the more complicated parts of his existence until a later date.
“Mmhm!” I said. We had arrived at my house, and I paused. I had left a note on my bed explaining that I had gone on a walk to cool my head. I did that to ensure that my parents wouldn’t be worried if they did find out that I had snuck out, but if they hadn’t found it yet, that would be perfectly fine with me. There really was no knowing. I had been gone for a really long time.
Suddenly, the loud sound of my front door being opened then slammed shut echoed through the night. I flinched and sprinted to the car, ducking behind it with Orchid close behind me. My heart thundered in my chest and I did my best not to breathe. I silently prayed that my parents wouldn’t come to the car. Please, please, I’ll never be bad again, just please God, don’t let my parents find me!
Light footsteps sounded on the pathway around the lawn, off the curb, then onto the street. I peered out from under the minivan and saw my dad’s strong legs approach the garbage bins. Of course! I thought, mentally slapping myself. It was Tuesday night, right after garbage day. They were taking the bins back in so we wouldn’t get fined by the finicky security in the country club.
I held my breath and watched as one by one, the garbage bins disappeared behind the house. I heard the retreating footsteps, then the loud sound of our squeaky front door being slammed shut. I counted to sixty in my head before slowly poking my head out over the hood of the van. I counted to one hundred this time, before creeping my way back to my bedroom window. I ripped the screen away as quietly as I could, then reached in and opened the window from the outside. I struggled for a couple minutes to get into my room (the house was about three feet off the ground because of the foundation and other building reasons I’d never tried to understand), until finally, defeated, I turned to Orchid.
“Could you give me a boost?” I asked. He smirked at me, then bent down.
“Hey, genius, look at this!” He taunted, pointing to a ledge on the side of the wall. “It’s a perfect foothold!”
I rolled my eyes at him, then stepped effortlessly into my bedroom. Being the clumsy specimen I am, I managed to land square on my face, my feet flopping out the window and almost whacking Orchid in the chest. He floated leisurely above me, then landed smoothly on my bed.
“Close that, would you? It’s cold out there.” He commanded. I glared at him. My nose was pink and sniffling, my fingers felt numb, and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into a steaming hot bowl of soup, but I simply opened the window wider in an act of defiance.
“I like the cold,” I humphed, lying through my chattering teeth. I crawled into my bed and snatched the blanket away from Orchid. I rolled up as tight as I could.
“What are you doing?” He asked. I poked my head out from the blanket roll briefly.
“I’m leaving this world to become a burrito. Fight me.” I said, then burrowed back down into the blankets.
I was still for a few minutes. Then I peeped out once more.
“Do you ever sleep?” I asked. Orchid was leaning against my headboard, his arms folded and his eyes closed. He opened one, then smiled.
“You look like an idiot,” He said. I scowled.
“Just answer my question.”
He thought for a moment, I watched his eyes as they flicked through whatever was in his head. I found myself wondering what letter would work with that color. None seemed to work. It was a completely new color unlike any I’d ever seen.
“I suppose I could sleep, if I wanted to. I’ve never tried before.” He replied, startling me out of my thoughts. Now I knew, he definitely was not human. What kind of human didn’t sleep?
“Then what have you been doing all this time? Watching me sleep?” I accused, having a mini panic attack thinking about all the dumb stuff I’ve said while sleep talking. He blushed slightly.
“Well, yeah. Not in a creepy way or anything. I usually just poke around in your room.” He said. I must have pulled the most scandalized face imaginable, because he let out a loud, genuine laugh.
“SSSHHHH!!” I said hastily, glancing at my door. Orchid chuckled again, quieter this time.
“Chillax, it’s not like anyone can hear me…” He said, bitterness creeping it’s way into his voice. I stared at him. How hard must it have been to exist, but have nobody ever acknowledge it? I pictured myself in his position. I imagined myself walking down the halls at school, seeing all the happy, chattering people, and cursing the universe. Wondering why I didn’t deserve to be like all the rest, what part of me went wrong? Why was I created to be someone’s invisible counterpart? Even then, the one person in the whole world who would be able to see me isn’t open-minded enough to do that. What if the person I was created for invented a new imagined partner, like I had done with Nicole? How would I feel knowing that Nicole never existed, but somehow she could be seen and heard better than I could? I imagined myself stuck on a miserable plane of existence, trying desperately to grab someone--anyone’s attention, until my throat was sore and I couldn’t move any longer. But then being forced to continue on next to that one person in some sick sense of obligation. In the hopes that one day, maybe they would be able to see me. I pictured the constant fear that I would go on to be forgotten, never set free until the day of my person’s death. Wondering, well now what? Would I die with them? What would I say to them on the other side? Would I ask them why they never even tried to see me? Or would I be stuck on earth for all eternity, the last shred of hope left for me disappeared forever?
“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you until now,” I apologized weakly. Orchid sighed.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you talked to me at all.” He admitted. We sat in a comfortable awkward silence for a while, just thinking.
“Well, I’m going to sleep,” I announced, burritoifying myself once more.
“Goodnight,” Orchid replied. I closed my eyes.
What would this all mean? How could I continue talking to him if nobody else could see him? Would I end up in an asylum, or a reality tv show? Would I feel safe enough to tell anyone? Or would Orchid remain my secret for the rest of eternity? All this talk of existence and dimensional tears and angst was messing with my head, so I just started thinking about post-it commercials and fell asleep next to a strange sixteen-year-old boy who could fly and had golden eyes.
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