Blog #7 - Reflection

There hadn't been anyone there when the door to Mr. Evans's apartment had opened. It was fairly anticlimactic, leaving Marie disappointed. It had only been some draft that blew the door open. Whoever was in the apartment last must not have shut the door properly. And so Marie had sulked back to her apartment, knowing that her wish would never come true.

Marie's life (or lack thereof) had been so eventful the past few weeks that she had forgotten how utterly pointless the time was in her weird in between life and death state. She had a lead on Ether, of course. Her journey to the past had helped with that. But she had no one to explain it to, no one to help. She could not for the life of her find Mei anywhere and poor Starr was terrified of her. So it was back to her dark corner of the empty apartment, staring out the window, thinking about everything she could have been doing if she alive.

Without realizing it, the entire day had passed and Marie had come up with nothing to advance the case. The room was enveloped in darkness, the night sky clear and sprinkled with bright stars. Marie was back to her old ways; before the murder, the only time she left the apartment was at night. She didn't talk to anyone, wasn't nosy, and never went near a murder. Marie could not explain why she kept investigating, only that she felt this obligation to help him. So she played detective. She didn't know what else to do.

Marie floated up, the silky fabric of her dark grey dress swaying across her ankles. One glance out her window told her that it was deep enough into the night for the halls to be empty, which cued her nightly wanderings. Not that they were so much wanderings anymore, Marie only called them that to keep the guilt of entering Mr. Evans's apartment at bay.

She entered the pitch black apartment, guided only by the moonlight. Movement in the apartment caught Marie's eye, and she spun around only to stare at herself in the mirror. She gasped at her reflection, having not seen herself since she died. Marie had become sickeningly pale, her bright blue eyes had faded to gray, and she had a faint silver glow. She looked, well...

She looked like a ghost.

Blog #6 - History

In five years of staring out the cracked window, Marie had never seen this much fog. Instead of an array of warm colors during the sunrise, all she was met with was grey. She never went outside in the mornings, she hated watching everyone hurry to work. She envied them, and normally avoided the mornings. But, things at the Maitland had not been normal lately.

Marie flew past the morning bustle in the lobby, no one aware of her presence as she floated through the crowd. She reached the sidewalk, her eyes falling on the stack of newspapers next to the boy selling them. Marie quickly scanned over the front page, grasping what she could from only one page. She could not pick up a newspaper every morning and read it like she used to. She took a lot of things for granted in the past. 

Lost in her daze, Marie read the date as January 11th, 2013. Snapping out of it, she looked more closely at the newspaper, reading the article about Edgar Maitland's missing, presumed dead twin brother. With that, she was transported 6 years back. 

The sky seemed bluer when she was alive, the sun brighter. The cold hair nipped at her skin and the wind tossed her thin golden hair around as she rushed out the door to make it to her weekly breakfast at the cafe on Maine St. with Willow and Grace. They had been friends ever since Marie had moved into the Maitland two years prior, meeting through Marie's teaching job at the elementary school. She was never late, but she got held up by Suzy Kemp in the lobby, gossiping about Ether Maitland's disappearance. Marie really couldn't care less. She could not stand Suzy Kemp, and she hated being in other people's business. 

Marie slid into the booth next to Willow. 

"I'm so sorry, I ran into Suzy in the lobby," Marie apologized. 

"When will she get a clue? No one cares about her gossip," Grace said, rolling her eyes. 

"Exactly! All she is doing is creating rumors that most likely are far from the truth. Why can't she just mind her own business?" Willow added, and Marie completely agreed. 

Back in the present, Marie felt a pang of guilt when she remembered how nosy she had been lately. But that was soon forgotten when she realized she had another lead. 

Ether. 

Blog #5 - Patience

Starr's scream echoed in Marie's head for days after the rooftop meeting. Soon after Starr had emerged from the door, Marie flew back into the building, past the terrified girl and a puzzled Mei, who seemed to be trying to piece together the clue that Marie had left in the snow. The combination of her being able to move the snow and Mei not being able to see her while Starr could had left Marie utterly frazzled, and the only thing she had thought to do was leave.

Marie found herself back in her apartment, staring out her cracked window, repeating the evening's events in her head. The sharp cold had spread through her, taking her over entirely. It reminded her of wintertime when she was younger, how she frolicked in the snow and laid on her back making snow angels, staring up at the bright blue sky, letting the cold envelop her...

With a quick shake of her head, Marie snapped out of her walk down memory lane. She had more important things to worry about. Other than the fact that this random girl could see her and Mei could not, she had to figure out how to get into the desk that Mr. Evans had mentioned in her last encounter with him. Despite her short-lived ability to move snow and feel cold, it was exactly that: short-lived. And she was not going to wait around another 5 years to suddenly feel again. Marie was patient, but not that patient.

After staring into the clear night sky for what felt like 3 more hours (her lack of a clock caused more problems than she could ever expect), Marie decided to wander the halls to clear her mind. Not that that ever worked, but it gave her something to do.

Ascending the steps to the tenth floor, Marie found herself near Mr. Evans's apartment yet again. The police tape had dropped to the floor, no one having been bothered to pick it up. She flew through the door, feeling some deja vu, and sat in the faded maroon armchair. As she looked up through the clear window, a bright shooting star flew past. Marie smiled, allowing herself one wish, and all she wanted was for someone to open that godforsaken desk drawer.

The second she finished her wish, light flooded in from the hallway as the door creaked open.

Blog #4 - Cold

Marie hadn't had a friend in years. But as of late, that had changed. Marie had found someone to talk to: Mei Beaumont. Mei was odd, with her earbuds and spectrometer at all times. She was very focused on ghost hunting, constantly bringing it up. Marie, on the other hand, had given up on the idea of another ghost years ago.

After her recent discovery, Marie had attended Mr. Evans's funeral to maybe catch a glimpse of his ghost. She had wanted to tell Mei about seeing him, but she was too busy following Suzy Kemp around. The funeral was uneventful. Marie didn't see Mr. Evans.

Marie floated into her empty apartment, finding Mei's note on the floor. "meet on west roof @ 6" was barely legible on a crumpled napkin. Marie cursed her friend for forgetting that her apartment was unfurnished and lacked a clock. Annoyed, she floated up the stairs to the roof of the Westside of the building, not feeling like intruding in someone else's apartment to check the time.

Marie couldn't feel the cold as she went outside, she couldn't feel anything. But she stood in awe as snowflakes began to fall. The dark clouds were always so dreadful with the rain they brought. The snow was a nice contrast. In an effort to pass time, Marie floated around the pool, admiring the snow as it piled up. Marie missed being alive, being able to touch things. She did not care if it was painfully cold, she wanted to be able to feel the snow against her bare feet.

As it became dark, Marie knew that Mei would be here soon. After an eternity, the rusty door creaked open, revealing Mei and her ghost-hunting get up. Marie flew over to her, eager to tell her the news about Mr. Evans. But Mei didn't look at her, only through her.

Confused, Marie waved a hand in front of her face, without a reaction from Mei. Frustrated, Marie flew around the pool. She was about to scream when a shock of cold went through her, originating at her feet. Marie looked down, seeing two footprints in the snow were she stood. Marie didn't think twice, just began to write Mr. Evans's last words in the snow to show Mei.

As the door creaked again, Marie's head snapped up to see a teenager. And she was staring right at Marie.

Blog #3 - A Clue

Marie had never been a nosy person. When she was alive, she kept her nose out of other people's business, respecting others' privacy. Now a ghost, Marie had changed. No one knew she existed, no one could judge her. But she remained respectful and did not use her ghostly abilities to spy on others, she simply couldn't.

Another week had passed, and Marie had not come any further with Mr. Evans. She had taken on the mystery, and it took up all her time. And to some extent, Marie was happy. Time usually crawled by, staring out the cracked window, stuck in her own mind. The case gave her something to think about, something to do.

Marie was wandering the halls, lost in her thoughts. She turned Mr. Evans's last words over in her mind, wondering what the significance was. He specifically said "Time ran out," not anything else. Mr. Evans could have been working on something, Marie thought. Something important, until time ran out and he was killed. Marie brushed the thought off, knowing she was reading too much into this. She had nothing else to go on, though, no new clues.

Frustrated, she found herself on the 10th floor of the building, and came out of her zoned out state. Marie looked up, staring at the door of Mr. Evans's apartment. The police tape hung loosely across it, and Marie debated going inside to search the apartment for clues.

Swallowing down the already growing guilt in her stomach, she glided through the door and entered the dark apartment. Cursing her inability to touch anything, including a light switch, Marie squinted to make out something, anything. Startled by a figure sitting in the old maroon armchair in the living room area, Marie inched closer, recognizing him quickly. It was Mr. Evans's ghost.

"Mr. Evans?" came her hoarse voice. Marie could not remember the last time she spoke.

"Time ran out," Mr. Evans mumbled.

"Mr. Evans? I'm Marie. A ghost, like you." She kicked herself for sounding so stupid.

"Time ran out," he said, raising his voice.

"Time ran out? For what? What were you working on?"

"It's all there, in the desk." Mr. Evans looked at Marie with empty eyes before fading away.

There was a desk close by, and again Marie hated her ghostly state. She had so many questions. But she finally had something new.

A clue.

Blog #2 - Time

The week following Mr. Evans's murder was quiet. From Marie's regular wanderings of the halls and her rare sightings of human life, she could tell the town was paranoid. No one went outside their apartments more than they had to. Even Sayori and her annoying squeaky little cart had disappeared from the halls.

The only sign of life in the building was Mr. Lamar, his low voice always asking the same questions. Marie listened everyday as he asked the next person if Mr. Evans had any enemies, if they saw him the night of the murder, what they were doing that night. The answers were always mumbled in the same irritated tone, wanting to be left alone. Mr. Lamar's investigations found nothing of relevance, and no one knew anything about Mr. Evans's murder.

At least, up until the concert.

Marie heard whispers about the mayor bringing in a songwriter, Conrad. He was supposed to pull the town up out of the slump it seemed to be stuck in. And although his concert did manage to lift some spirits, it left Marie feeling more depressed than ever.

Marie used to love music, the way the lyrics and the music came together to represent emotions in a way words never could. It could make her feel the artist's euphoria, hope, heartbreak,  pain. Music could do anything, and Marie loved that. She always had some song stuck in her head, singing to pass the time away.

Since her mysterious death, however, music lost its magic for Marie. Music was supposed to help communicate, but Marie had no one to communicate with. It had lost its purpose, and time crawled by for Marie without the help of music.

Marie did not attend the concert, and sat sulking in her corner (always the far right), trying to block out the music seeping through the windows from the amphitheater. It did not work. Closing her eyes, Marie wished now more than ever that she could sleep. Instead, her mind floated back to Mr. Evans's ghost, repeating those words over and over.

"...But I don't know what time is, it's in a jar"

Marie jumped to her feet when she heard that line of Conrad's rough voice. Not because the line was painfully relatable, but because of Mr. Evans. Time! That's what he was saying. Repeating three words. Time ran out. Time ran out.

Time ran out.

Blog #1 - Nothing

The day started with nothing. Marie's days always started with nothing. No eating, no drinking, no breathing, no interactions of any kind. Marie was alone.

Marie sat in the far right corner of the unfurnished loft-style apartment, arguably the best corner of the room. She had a perfect view outside through the window on the left side of the room, with the foggy glass and cracks running in every direction. But it was the only one that looked out on the town. If she was lucky, she could watch the sunrise as bright colors streaked the sky.

Marie was not lucky today. It had been raining non-stop, pounding on the roof five floors up and running down the windows. Marie knew there would be no bright colors shining through the window when the morning hours approached. And she was right. Around eight o'clock in the morning, eight hours into her day, Marie stared at the gray wall of clouds on the horizon. The only color in Marie's vision was the golden strands of her hair flowing in and out of her vision.

Two days ago, the Maitland was bustling with activity, flashing blue lights pulling Marie out of her constant state of being zoned out. Marie got up for the first time in what seemed like years, and peeked outside to see a crowd gathered outside the painfully boring apartment building and even more bland parking deck. That day, people were walking up and down the hallway outside the apartment, luring Marie outside.

Marie walked through her door, through the crowd of people clogging the hallway and flew down the stairs. Out the door she went, following the curious townspeople to the yellow tape, her unbeating heart breaking for Mr. Evans, the man that lay dead. As a single tear glided down her face, Marie looked up.

On the other side of the tape, there stood Mr. Evans, grief-stricken and hurt while staring at his own dead body. His mouth was moving, repeating two words over and over. Marie couldn't exactly make out was he was saying. Mr. Evans looked up at Marie as he faded from view.

Marie thought nothing of what he was whispering, she was too caught up in her own sorrow. Another one had disappeared on her. No one else was stuck here like her.

Marie was a ghost. And Marie was alone.