Christmas Ghost Story competition, junior winner: A Christmas Goodbye by Alexia Tihon

I am no fortune teller nor a seer, but even they would contradict their beliefs for someone who cheated death.

Even death itself is not too pleased about me at this point. I felt its eerie touch tap me on the shoulder as my vision blacked out through sudden crude pain and the impact that slammed me forwards with such force I felt the windshield shatter beneath my skull. A vehicles’ blinking blood-red and blue headlights blinded my vision when I faded back to consciousness and forced the world around me into nothingness once again. It shook its head in disappointment and left as ghostly as it arrived, only this time with a promise to return when the time was right.

And when would the final chime of life ring for me?

That was a question I would gladly leave unanswered at least for now, trying to focus on the voices that were the only reason I had not given up just yet. My mother sat on the side of my bed with my father’s comforting hand on her slumped shoulders that were now shaking with the tears filling her eyes as soon as she saw mine open to meet hers. My sister’s steps rushed into a hug that usually brought complaints of suffocation, but instead I welcomed her embrace and wiped her tear-stained eyes with a trembling hand.

Her smile is why I had not given up.

My mother’s tears are why I said, ‘not yet.’

Reality had just knocked at my consciousness, my mind numbly letting in a wave of sharp pain that made me wince, forcing my sister to give me the space I needed. The dull throbbing in my head made it clear that my injuries lied further than appearance. Not only that, but my bandaged legs. I couldn’t move them. I must have loosened the hold I had on my expression too soon, my eyes searching my mother for an answer without words but she only shook her head through a fresh wave of tears.

‘I’m sorry,’ She whispered, my father tightening his grip on her and offering a hopeless nod.

She had nothing to be sorry for and she knew that. She knew and yet she still said those words. As if she was responsible for my phone unknowingly making its way into my hold, or my eyes leaving the road for those two seconds to type a message. As if she was responsible for the girl.

Realisation was more than a rush of caffeine and rather a shot of reality as soon as it hit me.

She was dead.

I killed her.

It took two seconds for death to not claim me but find another soul.

And its promise of return was still looming over me, as if it was standing at the other end of my bed with a plastered menacing smile on its face. It would return and take the rightful soul it was meant to take that night.

And even though I was sent back home the next day, not even the wheels of the wheelchair my life now depended on could be loud enough to drown the thoughts feeding off what I had left of sanity. The accident I caused had led to the girl’s funeral a week later and also my denial of attending. What use would her own murderer be at her last time of peace?

I visited her after – when the snow had veiled the gravestone in pure angelic white and the carved name glowed in icy cursive lettering with the faint orange hue of the sunset. It was beautiful as it would be every Christmas Eve. I had left my family to rest after dinner, and I was able to sneak out into the night to make my way through the path of the cemetery.

For her.

I lifted myself off the wheelchair and onto the bench next to me, a muffled groan betraying my struggle.

‘Need some help?’ A quiet voice says from behind me.

I turn around just in time for the woman to make her way in front of me and offer me a smile. Her wrinkles could not hide the sparkle that still remained in her eyes, making me wonder what a life she had led until then. Her fragile body was wrapped up in a worn-out coat, but she showed no signs of feeling the sharp breeze, as if it was no more than a welcoming embrace.

‘No, thank you.’ I responded.

She nodded in acknowledgement and followed my gaze to the girl’s gravestone, something in her expression softening even more.

‘Visiting family?’ She asks.

‘No.’ I didn’t know what else there was to say, I had no right to be here.

I had not found a way to turn back time.

Her eyes darted back to the writing, approaching the stone and tracing the numbers gently with her surprisingly still fingers whilst mine remained faintly shaking beneath my gloves.

‘So young, with such a life ahead of her.’ She whispered, the wind carrying her words deeper than intended and into my cracked heart.

And because it was just me and her I allowed myself to break a little, the crack giving away to everything it held together. A tear slid down my cheek before words unconsciously tumbled out of my mouth.

‘I didn’t mean to. It was an accident, it should have been me.’ My words were quiet enough but the elderly woman still heard me.

‘What would you say to her?’

‘That I am sorry,’ I said with no hesitation through tears, ‘That I wanted her to live her life and for her to be happy. And I am sorry that I denied everything from her in only moments. I denied years to come with only seconds.’

But I knew words were worthless.

‘Her life would have thrived like the spring bloom and maybe greater,’ the woman said with a dreamy tone, ‘She would have been a midwife after graduating. She would help bring miracles into the world before having her own miracle of a baby. She would have gotten married, raised her child and watched him grow. She would have travelled the world. She would have done anything and everything because she knew she could.’

‘I don’t understand –‘

‘I would have lived a life like everyone else.’

My breath hitched in my throat, my heart stopping its rhythm as if to listen.

‘Apologies will not bring me back. I would have been happy,’ the spark in her eyes was the life she had seen for herself, maybe in another world, maybe somewhere she had lived. ‘Can you promise me something?’

‘Anything.’

‘Live. For me. For what it could have been. Don’t waste even a moment. Because it can be taken from you just like that.’

She made the motion of snapping her fingers but produced no snap, instead I witnessed her figure disappearing slowly in the darkness, her head inclined in the sympathy I didn’t deserve.

‘I promise.’ I whispered just before she was gone.

Forever now.

Only a faded memory of a Christmas miracle.