The last few days started out blurry. Dense fog lingered deep into the afternoons, giving the world an unusual but supernatural appearance.
Almost everyday I wake when most of the world is still asleep in their beds. When no sounds were made by people or animal. No lights from the streetlights or the rising sun. When it was just me, alone in the dark, wandering and struggling to find my way through the thick cobweb to the bus stop.
I felt alone. The last man in the world. Concerns of the living and the dead seem to matter less and less. It was just me, trying to reach a destination for a purpose. Soon the sounds of passing car engines faded into the background and the destination and the purpose also waned.
I turned around as if someone had called. I looked afar, the fog was observed to glow a ghostly white. Straight dark lines stood there in an orderly fashion, as if I was looking into some great forest. Or perhaps they were the silhouettes of the dead, my ancestors. Could they have been looking at me, sizing me up?
I wondered if I've lived up to their expectations or if they knew what the future holds. But I was scared to ask. Scared to believe in the supernatural. And above all, I was scared to find out. But even if I had pull together my strengths, how would I've asked? I didn't even know their names. In the mass gathering of spirits, I was reluctant to embarrass them.
They read my mind as it appeared. Two bright dots began to come toward me. Am I ready to find out the truth, I pondered. I thought my answers were going to get answered, answered by the all knowing spirits that live in the other kingdom. I thought my deepest secrets were uncovered, laid bare in front of the mind readers. I also thought of many other things, but they shall remain buried. I was hoping for a chance to say sorry to my grandpa.
The lights flew passed me and a stroke of yellow followed.
"F***!" and I started running.
