Look for Me

The moan of the car heater is comforting even if it brings back fresh memories of pain and suffering. I don’t like cars anymore… or vehicles in general. I don’t want to go outside and brave the bitter, mid-January chill. Outside my window is darkness, the headlights of other cars gather on this same street. Blinking, yellow lights grow larger and larger as they come closer and closer to us. I flinch at the memory that these; round growing lights bring back, but it’s only the bus.
I sit in the front watching as my fellow classmates board the bus and walk right passed me without a care in the world. My sister comes onto the bus, not even looking at me. What have I done to make her hate me so much? I didn’t mean for all of this to happen… it just did.

But she’s not the only one who doesn’t look at me, none of them look. I don’t think they even want to. I used to be their trusted friend, the one they all turned to. But ever since that accident, I am nothing to them but a name they heard on the news, along with the name of that unfortunate taxi driver. That incident made me famous, maybe I’m famous for the wrong reasons… but even so, I’m on the news. They can’t be happy for me, in fact they hate how I’m popular and they’re still normal. Then again… maybe they wish everything could be how it was. But I bet if they just looked for me, they could see that things haven’t really changed. They would be able to see my face, my real face, not the one in the papers; I’m still the quiet confidant they always knew. Things can go back to how they were.

They don’t think that I can still help them, but I can. I can help the cheerleader find approval in ways other than lying down on a bed. I can still show her the benefits of friendship. I can help the football jock learn math and impress that shy girl that he’s been crushing on secretly for three years. If that shy girl let me, I can even help her stand out, and win the heart of the football jock. I can still do so much for them; I mean I am their friend, they trust me with things they never tell anyone else. But they’re not letting me. Now they’re not even looking at me, they have forgotten that I’m still here. They turn away and continue living their lives. For this I envy them.

I look around. These faces I see around me, I have known for years. But they can’t even see me here. I turn to my sister in the seat across from me; she sits with our friend… her friend… they talk about things to come. The mid-terms are approaching swiftly, and they need to study. I can still help them with that, I am better at studying that the two of them put together.

There is a goth kid coming on the bus. He is my friend… was would be a better word. Before all of this commotion started with that taxi cab, I was his best friend. But this is the first time I’ve seen him in awhile. He pauses by my seat and seems to look right at me. He has been with me through everything, but not this; strangely I must go through this by myself. I don’t want to be alone like this, and I want them to see me, to look at me, to talk to me. But I guess I have to learn to move on, like they have. Even so, I would like for them to look for me like they used to, now they just look right through me with guilt and pity in their eyes.

The boy tilts his head to one side; he does that when he’s confused. I think… maybe he sees me, maybe someone is finally looking! But I know that isn’t true. He’s just like they are, why would they look for me? People want to forget the past, yet they long for it to be as it was. Can’t they make up their mind? But I guess it would be nice to know that the past isn’t forgotten, even if you want to move on. I guess I have to realize something they’ve come to terms with. I have to look to the now, to forget that I once sat amongst them. I have to forget how to be… alive, I have to realize that I am dead.

I can’t be dead, I was alive just the other day, and I certainly don’t feel any different, so I must be alive. I can still feel pain, loneliness and sorrow; I know I can still feel love, happiness, and joy… I just have to find it again. I want to feel what it’s like to be in love, but I need someone to share it with… yet they pretend that I’m dead. I’m alive, so why can’t they see me? My heart still beats in my chest; I can still feel the wind on my face, and the sharpness of the bitter January snow. Now tell me that I’m dead. When you’re dead you can’t feel anything… right? That must mean that I’m alive. So why do they ignore me?

Goth Boy whispers my name and my heart flutters in my chest, just as it always has when he said my name. But then he walks away and I’m alone again. My anger rises in my throat, I want to scream and yell but I can’t even hear my own voice. I will prove to them that I still walk the halls of our school. I will show them that I am still alive and well. I am still here. After all, I can’t be dead.

Just an fyi for those who've read the Motel 66 chapters 1-3, this has nothing to do with that story, this was just something that came to me while I was waiting for the bus, and on the bus.

Hey Nightlyowl, I'm here to review!

Okay, so interesting piece! I definitely had my suspicions when you said that no one looked at the MC or anything, and thought she might be a ghost or something like it.

Not much for me to nitpick on, aside from the fact that there's a lot of description that I feel could be given. Why does the MC think she can help all of the kids in school? What gives her the ability to help everyone's personal life?

Also, you keep mentioning that people won't look at her because she's famous and they hate her for it; I get that you're trying to keep the reader from thinking along the ghost-aspect, but this doesn't make sense when you look back on it in retrospect. If they don't know she's there, then they wouldn't be avoiding her because they hate her, which is the main reason you cite for her not being noticed. Just something that doesn't add up once you reach the end of the piece.

Otherwise, I think this is an interesting piece, albeit a little short. Please PM me if you have any questions or whatnot. Cheers! (:

Excellent, I love it. The suspense is kept all the way through. In my opinion I thought it was an accident that caused something to happen to the person's face, involving a car maybe? But after reading on, it becomes clearer and it's a remarkable piece.

Anyway on with the review.

my fellow classmates board the bus and walk right passed me without a care in the world.

passed should be pass, due to the tense.

There is a Goth kid coming on the bus.

Goth doesn't need a capital but if it was put there intentionally so that they seem like a 'real' person that's understandable. Also with this sentence, maybe it should read There was as you mention after that this person hasn't been seen around recently.

Overall and excellent piece, fix up those corrections and it'll be a 10/10. Awesome

Thank you both so much. I did the corrections, well some of them I tried to do the Passed to Pass but it didn't sound right so I'm leaving it that way. I hope I was able to smooth out some of the rough parts and made it easier to understand.

By the way, if any of you start thinking of ways to continue this, since I haven't actually thought about what's to come with this piece, feel free to add onto it here at my Writer Feed Pad. I'd love to see what you guys think should happen to our ghostly friend. http://nightlyowl.writerfeedpad.com:9000/1

For me, what works best in this piece is the first paragraph, which opens a series of possibilities as it plays with the concepts of heat and cold, light and darkness, comfort and pain. This could be better explored. Also, I think there are some inconsistencies in this story: for instance, the narrator is so aprehensive that people won't look at her and yet she is perfectly conscious of the fact that she is dead. Like Ranger Hawk, I cannot understand why does this girl believes she can help everyone with everything - what skills did she possess to think she could?

I mean, they pass my seat without looking at it, like they’re afraid to look at where I once bodily sat… not spiritually. They look at my seat with a mix of guilt and sadness.

This does not make much sense, as if it seems on one hand they could not care less if the narrator is alive or dead and on another hand they are mourning her while feeling they didn't appreciate her enough. There can either be one "general feeling" within the story: either she was a ghost to everyone in life so that no one misses her even when she's dead (although said apathy can be altered as she apparently became famous and they want to be famous too) or she was a person who had a few close friends who cared for her and now everyone feels guilty for not getting to know her better and those friends are specially tormented by the unfortunate event. This "general feeling" can be improved by taking out inconsistent reactions and elaborating a bit more on a coherent description.

Finally, the big element of surprise was a little obvious to me as there are many hints spread around the story. It is an interesting narrative in the sense that I would like to know how she died exactly (you mention "along with the name of that unfortunate taxi driver" - made me think of suicide or reckless death) and exactly why did she think she could help others with their love and academic lives. Exaggerated self-importance, perhaps?

Good luck on your writing endeavours!

V

Ok, I'll keep that in mind, though I didn't actually put much thought into in the first place since it just came to me and was scribbled on the back of a homework asignment while riding to school on the bus. I guess I'll reread it and elaborate on that point more. Thank you.

i really like this story!
Its short, but subtly hints at the begining.

my fellow classmates board the bus and walk right passed me without a care in the world.

passed should be pass, due to the tense.

I think pass would fit their as well. I see that you have already tried it though and didnt like how it sounded?
Personally, I do agree with Thalizar
Other than that, I enjoyed this story!! Keep up the good work.(:

I suppose pass could work there. I'll try it out. I didn't like passed but pass does seem to fit better. Thank you, and I'm glad you liked it.

I like it. I don't really like fantasy...I don't know why just don't. But this was good.

i liked it,and anyone who didn't is a fool!

I really liked it,very very good.Well,I don't know what to say,it's pretty good.keep up the good work.

Thank you. I'm glad you all liked it.

I'd love to know exactly what happened.. what do they hate her for? What made everything change? This was very interesting.. but still, I'd love to know exactly what happened.

I'd like to know what actually happens to the girl and what exactly happened to her too. But unfortunitly I never thought of the rest haha. You can go to my feedpad and add to it if you want. http://nightlyowl.writerfeedpad.com:9000/1?