Why You Don’t Bring People Back From The Dead

I see things that I shouldn’t be able to see. It’s not something that I’ve always been able to do it’s just a recent thing, but I wanted to share my experience with you. My background isn’t relevant, but what you should know is I’ve never believed in the supernatural. My father never did either, so I suppose he passed it on to me. You tend to copy the most influential people in your life I guess. He died last year, and I miss him terribly. When anyone mentioned ghosts or the supernatural, I would laugh every time and mark them down as a crazy person. But that was before my car crash.

They said I died for one minute and twenty-three seconds, that’s how long they said my heart stopped beating, and how long someone else pumped air into my lungs. When I finally came back from wherever I went, I remembered seeing a face. It was orange and blurry to start with, and I was confused as shit. But as time passed and the soothing words in my ear became tangible, my eyesight came back too. I remember the eyes the most as the world blurred around the edges. They were green like shamrocks and mint, oval-shaped and held a hint of fear. I can recall them even now as I close my eyes; I don’t think I’ll ever forget them. Her name was Sarah, and she was the paramedic at the scene. Although this story isn’t about Sarah, I wanted to mention her because she brought me back, and I’m eternally grateful. But, it wasn’t just me Sarah brought back, and that’s not her fault. She didn’t know.

I don’t recall how long I remained hooked up to the machines. I had broken both my legs, six ribs, my collar bone, my right arm and suffered some internal bleeding. The white walls, wires and the beeps of the heart monitor became a part of my daily life. At first, when the morphine faded and the pain came I woke for brief seconds and glanced around with blurry confusion. It would take a moment to remember what had happened and where I was. My girlfriend would sometimes be by my bed, squeezing my hand and cooing in my ear.


I also remember that someone else was in the room with me too, but as the drugs still addled my brain, I just assumed it was another family member. After a week they lessened the dose of medication. My internal hemorrhaging had healed, and I was on the road to recovery. I started to spend more time awake. That’s when I noticed the other person. He sat in a chair in the far corner of the room staring at me. I tried to speak to him, but he just shook his head and continued to stare. I was freaked out by it. When the nurse visited next, I asked her if she could get security to remove him. She glanced over to where I pointed and said that no one was there. She prattled on about drugs sometimes causing hallucinations, but I wasn’t buying it.

I also remember that someone else was in the room with me too, but as the drugs still addled my brain, I just assumed it was another family member. After a week they lessened the dose of medication. My internal hemorrhaging had healed, and I was on the road to recovery. I started to spend more time awake. That’s when I noticed the other person. He sat in a chair in the far corner of the room staring at me. I tried to speak to him, but he just shook his head and continued to stare. I was freaked out by it. When the nurse visited next, I asked her if she could get security to remove him. She glanced over to where I pointed and said that no one was there. She prattled on about drugs sometimes causing hallucinations, but I wasn’t buying it.

The man sat there smiling, and I couldn’t help but stare back. He wasn’t that old. Maybe mid forty with dark hair and mustache. There was one thing that kept me from freaking out entirely, and that was his eyes. There was something familiar about them. I didn’t buy it that it was just my imagination so when the nurse had gone, I spoke to him again. But, like last time, he just shook his head. The door suddenly opened, and my family walked In. As the rotation of hugs and kisses went by, my sister went to sit in the chair. The man stood up moments before like he knew someone would want it. He looked around at my mother, brother, sister and finally at my dad. His face softened, and he lingered a moment longer before turning and walking through the solid wall behind him out into the ward.

My family put my reaction down to the medication, and I did eventually calm down. I could tell my mother was worried about me by the look in her eyes. After that, the doctors sent me for an MRI to make sure there wasn’t any blood on my brain. I know I wasn’t crazy and it also dawned on me that what I was seeing was a ghost. They moved me into the public ward as my injuries were healing nicely and the nurse said that other families needed the privacy of the room. I didn’t mind; my family had to go back to their normal activities and only visited at the weekend by this point. I asked the nurse about the car crash thinking possibly that the man by my side was probably haunting me because my actions had inadvertently killed him. But she told me that no one had died, and the lady in the other car had been so drunk that she only suffered a slight concussion.

The hospital ward they placed me in only had one other patient, a senior man with his frail wife by his bedside. He spoke in quiet whispers, and I could see the love they had for each other by the way she never let go of his hand. My visitor – as I had started to call him – stopped to look at the couple. The old lady must have felt something or was just curious to see who had come into the ward. She turned her head and glanced at him. I didn’t know if she could see him or just sense him, but I’m sure she knew someone other than me was there. I thought maybe when you reach that age; your senses return to what they were like when you were a child. My visitor turned back to me and came to sit in the chair beside my bed. I had grown so accustomed to my visitor by now that I watched the old couple with him by my side until I fell to sleep.

That night I woke to screams and loud voices passing my ward. The man came to stand by my side and placed a hand on my arm. The touch was cold but somehow reassuring. I felt a kind of warmth seep into my battered bones and I drifted off to sleep again. When I woke the next morning, he was gone. But, we did have another patient in the ward. The curtains were drawn, but I could hear their heavy breathing. The person must have been in immense pain because they moaned continuously. I also noticed a Policeman talking to the nurse just outside the door.

When the nurse came in around breakfast time, she pulled the curtains to enter, leaving them slightly open. I was able to see into the chamber and instantly wished I couldn’t. What I saw still chills me to the bone. If my legs had healed by this point, I would have ran and would never have stopped. A man in his early twenties laid handcuffed to the bed. Thick bandages wrapped his head, and a bloody dressing covered his chest. A ton of wires connected him to numerous machines, and drip feeds that the nurse checked; while I stared at the other thing suffocating him. The nurse didn’t see it; I know; because if she did, she would have screamed and ran too.

The entity was black, not the black you see in paint pots or the color of your car, but instead black like the absence of light. Devoid of anything but darkness. It crouched over the man, ten or twelve tentacles wrapped and pierced his body. Every time the creature moved, the man moaned and thrashed in pain. I couldn’t make out a head from the blob of a body, but I knew it looked at me before squeezing the man. One appendage snaked out from the curtains and came towards me. My visitor stepped out from nowhere and stood before me. The thing snaked back its tentacle and plunged it back into the young man’s throat.

When the nurse finally came over to me, I asked what had happened to the guy. She said he was involved in a murder case, and that was all she could tell me. I asked if he had died and she looked at me quizzically before nodding. He died at the scene, but the paramedics had been able to save his life, although he was probably going to serve the rest of it behind bars anyway, she said behind her hand. I asked if I could move to the other side of the room where the elderly man was, and she agreed to get the porter to come and move me. After a few sleepless nights, the young man transferred to a secure wing of the hospital, and the room filled up with normal people with various injuries, but none with a black entity attached to them. I was happy.

That night I woke to a strange sensation brushing my mind. I don’t know how else to describe it. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. The Elderly man was coughing and having a hard time breathing. I noticed my visitor standing at the foot of my bed. The frail lady also stood beside her husband’s. The next moment the old man stopped breathing, and the machine connected to him flat-lined. The nurses came to tend to him, but I paid them no attention. The old man spirit had defused above his body and floated in mid-air. The sight caught my breath. A gentle breeze filled the room. His spirit floated down and landed next to his wife. I couldn’t help but mimic the smile on his face as he lovingly looked his wife over. Suddenly she held out her hand, and he took it, they turned and smiled at me, then disappeared. The tears came unbidden to my eyes, and I sat there crying for a while.

 

That was three years ago, and when I realized what I was able to see. I don’t know why I see ghosts, or why my visitor came back with me. I also don’t know why the black things come back with others. I think maybe it’s because they’ve done something wrong or are horrible people. I’m not too sure, but it seems likely to me. I see all sorts of things now. I watch people walking down the street or doing their shopping and see a shadow at their back or a patch of light shining by their shoulder. But they’re harmless to a certain degree, and I’m not afraid of them. The black entities are the ones that terrify me, the ones that haunt my dreams and keep me awake.

Last year I lost my father to a brain tumor. When he was admitted to the same hospital I was in it seemed ironic that it was now my turn to stand at his bedside while he was hooked up to the machines. The doctors told us there was nothing they could do and thought it best we said our goodbyes. I paid no mind to the shadows and black things that lurked in the hospital; my world was crumbling. My dad must have heard us as we all said our final goodbyes because after my mother had finished, his heart stopped beating. It was hard to see through the tears in my eyes when my dad’s spirit drifted out of his body and that gentle breeze allowed him to come and stand next to my mother. His face was shocked at first, but when he saw us standing around his body, he seemed to accept what had happened. My father looked at us all in turn, and when he noticed me looking back, he grinned. It was so infectious that I smiled too.

My visitor appeared at my side, and my father’s jaw fell open. The man hurried to my dad and embraced him. It was then I realized why his eyes were so familiar. There were the same as my dads. My father didn’t talk much about my grandfather because he had died when he was little. I started to cry fresh tears but this time for a different reason. I will always remember my father’s face as he looked upon his parent. Eventually, he turned to me and smiled again. He tried to say something but realized I couldn’t hear. He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then to mine before pointing them at my mom. I understood what he wanted and nodded. My grandfather held out his hand to my father, and when he took it, they both vanished.

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