They say that when you die, you retain your memories. For me, I retained very little...apart from one thing. That one thing was my name.

There you go.

You have it.

You now know the one thing that has kept me going over the years I've been alive. OK. That's wrong. I'm not alive. In actual fact, that's far from the truth, but I don't know how else to phrase it. Anyway, I promise you that this will be the last time that I will be annoying, especially when prolonging suspense.

I give you my Brownie honour.

Oh, wait, I've done it again.

I can't promise that.

That is because:

One: I never went to Brownies. At least I don't think I did. Anyway, from my attitude, I think that's a dead (Ha-ha – you see what I did there) giveaway too that I would never have been accepted into the circle of everlasting love and friendship. 

Two: I'm annoying - very annoying.

I guess it's in my nature.

OK.

I get it.

I feel the vibes you're giving off so I'll shut up now.

Otherwise, you might stop reading right here...right now...and I don't want that.

I don't want that one bit.

You haven't heard everything I need to say yet.

After all, even though you know the most important fact that has kept me going over the years and that this fact is my name, you don't know what my name actually is.

Follow me?

So here it is.

This is my proper introduction and the start to a rollercoaster of a story that will leave an everlasting imprint in your mind and leave you hungry for more.

*

My name is Clara. It's as short and simple as that. As far as I'm aware, I'm seventeen years of age and...spoiler alert...in case you haven't guess this bombshell already...I'm dead. I have been for as long as I can remember, which is like an eternity. Currently, I sit, like usual, on the local park bench. A little girl, who looks no more than five, suddenly rushes past my leg, her pretty, pink dress fluttering on the cool, summer breeze. She has a matching headband, which just about holds back her curly, golden hair. On her face is a smile of pure innocence.

It has been a long time since I have felt such an emotion.

Once the little girl has dashed away, next to grace my presence is an elderly lady. She sits down next to me, before opening her handbag. Pulling out a mirror and tube, she begins to apply the cosmetic product to her face. I catch her looking at me in the reflection. It is she who is startled by this meeting not I, for she lets out a prolonged whine. It's rather funny because her false teeth slip a little in her mouth. Taking the amusement out of it, honestly, I'm rather offended. The first reason is because the woman herself isn't exactly a beauty goddess. Age hasn't been her friend over the long years (and there have been many). Overall, I think she looks like a pickled walnut.

The second reason - I don't think I'm that unattractive. Alright. So I'm extremely ashen, with a jagged scar that splits my face in half from my temple to my chin. Then, there's my disfigured nose and skin, which is like the texture of wallpaper paste (I suppose this comment is actually pretty offensive to wallpaper paste) and my crooked teeth, which would surely frighten even the likes of the Cheshire Cat. Really though, all things considered, I actually think I'm kind of hot - hotter than those Victoria Secret models for sure. I mean, I have the figure, with a small waist and thin arms and my rich, auburn hair is long, really long. I'm tall, verging on being around the six foot mark, thanks to my never ending legs. The only feature I really struggle to make out is the colour of my eyes, although I have a feeling that they might be a vivid green. Therefore, if you look past the worst of my features, I think I could definitely teach them a thing or two, particularly when it comes to strutting. I've got strutting down to a tee, having had the time (I like reminding you of this fact) to perfect the moves. They also always want someone who will attract the eye and well...baby...I'm sure I have that package 100%. And yet, as the old lady and I have a stare-off, I acknowledge that all the above is not the real reason why I'm offended.

The real reason is that, day in and day out, as soon as I'm seen, whether it's in the local supermarket, swimming pool or cinema, I receive a very similar reaction.

Some stare.

Some scream.

Some run away.

Some cry.

The most extreme incident was when I had a priest begin to exorcise me. Needless to say, it didn't work for I was still sitting there, looking at him, with an unamused expression on my face half an hour later. All in all, it's part of the job description.

That doesn't mean I don't hurt a little on the inside.

The elderly lady hastily scans the area to see if others have stopped to ogle at me. Yes. That's right. Let's all stare at the hot but nonetheless mutilated ghost sitting on the bench. They carry on around us, oblivious to what's happening. This is because the passers-by are too absorbed in their own lives. That's the norm nowadays. Everyone. No. Let me rephrase that. Nearly everyone is so completely and utterly wrapped up in their own affairs and existence that they forget about each other. Er...hello? There are around 7.442 billion people in the world you know and they don't all revolve around you. You're not exactly deserving of special "snowflake" treatment. Sheesh. Oh boy. I'm doing it again aren't I? I'm sorry. I really am. It's just that when I'm on a rant, I'm really, really on a rant. No one can derail the rant train, not unless they are Benedict Cumberbatch.

Then, I'm interested...but that's a whole other story.

Anyway, I'll take a deep breath and get back to the main focus of this paragraph - the theory behind why the old woman can see me. In my opinion, I believe it is do with the fact that the elderly lady is dying. You see, as far as I'm aware, only animals, children, the dying and mediums can see me. Really, that shouldn't come as a surprise (although the medium thing might. Not everyone believes in this but, if you take out the 99.9% of fraudsters, then that leaves the 0.1% that are real). The elderly lady doesn't know this of course, although I hazard a guess that, because of her age, she surely acknowledges the inevitability of this fact. Also, the more I hone in on her body, the more I can sense her heart gradually failing. I can pick up such things you see. Call it a ghostly intuition if you must.

Shaking herself, the old lady hurriedly puts the lipstick away and bustles off. She glances at me one last time, just before she is lost from view, her brow wrinkling again. Yep. I'm definitely going to nickname her 'walnut lady'. Then, with a twist, she disappears around the overhanging tree. 

Once again, I am alone.

Before long, ironically, I find myself wishing to have her in my presence again. At least she passed the time. After a while, last persons to grace my presence is a young couple. They hold hands, only having eyes for each other. They share a sensual kiss, before they move away. The young girl complains about the area being cold. Well excuse me for being a walking refrigerator! I can't exactly help it you know. You see - another example of people being egocentric.

I sigh.

After a while, I realise that watching them only makes me realise that I will never experience what they have.

I clench my fists.

I feel rage, hot and heavy, thunder through my cold veins.

I feel tears prick my eyes.

Acknowledging that I no longer desire to be here anymore, I stand up and make my way towards the pond. This is always my 'back-up' place when I feel low. I love watching the swans swim about my feet, as I float in the air. They are such elegant creatures. They remind me of the beauty I can find in what can only be described as an ugly existence. It also helps that they don't judge me, as I dance on the surface. They don't recoil in fear or horror. My only regret is that I can't feel their soft feathers or the water on my toes.

They just sink below the surface, before reappearing.

A loud cry disrupts my melancholy thoughts. The swans are startled by this sudden exclamation, squawking and flapping their wings vigorously. Slowly, I creep forward, interested to see what all the commotion is about. That is when I see the trio of teenagers, not much older than me, playing a game of frisbee. I don't recognise them, but then again, my memory is shocking. 

There are two boys and one girl. All three are sweaty and covered in dirt. Tall is mixed with short and, as I study them individually, I can't help but smile. The girl is relatively plain, although she makes up for this in her eclectic fashion sense. She screams 'NERD ALERT' - a fact only heightened by the t-shirt she wears, which I notice reads 'Books are better than boys!" after straining my eyes.

This observation causes me to grin.

Moving on, I notice that one of the boys has the build of a professional wrestler. His muscles ripple and his tanned, board shoulders stretch out with ease with each movement. These gestures highlight his spiky hair and his eyes, which are the colour of melted chocolate. He tackles the geeky girl to the floor, much to her annoyance and his booming laugh resonates around the park. Overall, it is a rather amusing image to say the least, although it is nice to see them playing together, outside. Too many teenagers are inside nowadays, glued to technology.

I go to leave.

That is when the other of the two males catches my gaze.

The boy is of medium height, lanky and with rich, chestnut-coloured, messy hair. Bits of leaves have entwined in the strands, but he doesn't seem to notice. His t-shirt clings to his form and his baggy shorts seem a little too big for his slim build. He clutches the frisbee tightly to his chest and laughs as 'tank' guy tackles him to the floor, trying to wrestle the object from his tight grasp. I can't help but grin too. 'Lanky' boy's got a nice laugh - a deep laugh.

It sounds...friendly.

Suddenly, 'lanky' boy (I like nicknames) throws the frisbee up high, in order to stop his friend from getting it and I can't stop the gasp that is omitted from my lips. His aim is off and I watch how the item flies through the air at rocket speed, before it goes straight through my stomach and comes out the other side. If I could feel pain, I would have doubled up. Luckily for me, I can't so that's one of the only perks of being dead.

"Adam!" 'Tank' guy shouts at 'lanky' boy. His shirt tightens, highlighting his toned stomach. "You dunce. Why did you do that?"

Adam.

So that's 'lanky' boy's name.

It suits him.

Adam just grins.

"I didn't want you to get it!" He retorts, pushing his friend off his body. "You would've won otherwise."

'Tank' guy rolls his eyes, before laughing and helping Adam to his feet.

"Alright," he chuckles. "I'll let you off." He gestures to the frisbee behind me, which is caught amongst the bulrushes. "But you have to go and get it."

At hearing his friend's remark, Adam sighs, before nodding. Seeing 'nerd' girl cheer him on, Adam turns around and heads straight for me. The moment I realise this, I frantically look around, trying to find a better hiding spot. I don't know why I do this but, for some strange reason, it seems like an automatic reaction. That is when I realise that he won't see me anyway. I'm dead...remember! DUH. Jeese...for a highly intelligent, intellectual astral being (Hey. Surely I get some points for that?) I have my moments when logic and sense abandon me, the lovely traits that they are.

Adam is standing in front of me before I know it. Several bulrushes and a dead tree are all that stands between me and him. I'm so close to him in fact that I can see each bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. I also realise that he has bright, blue eyes, flecked with bits of gold. I shiver. They are the most amazing eyes I've ever seen. They're the kind of eyes that make you feel is if your soul is being thoroughly examined, flaws and everything. I watch as Adam stands on his tip toes and leans forward, trying to get the frisbee. It's caught on the top of the bulrush. His muscles contract and constrict as he changes tactic, going for a different angle. I can see the frustration on his face, as well as the worry that he might fall in. It's deep here, so I can understand his fear. On that note, I'm surprised no one has fallen in and drowned before. Even for the best swimmers, this spot is dangerous and, as much as I'd like a friend, I'm not that wicked...honest. That's when Adam notices me, gawking at him like a total idiot.

The world as I know it shatters.

****************

AN:

OK. So we really have hit the ground running. We've been fully introduced to Clara now - my MC. I WANT A BEST FRIEND LIKE HER! We have also been introduced to Adam and his two best friends. What do you think of them? What do you think will happen next? Clara can't believe that Adam can see her! I wonder why...Please leave your comments below :)