At the moment, I'm getting glares from the hipsters in Starbucks. Not their usual "I'm a hipster so I have to look at you like this. No offense." glares, but glares that say "You're a lower class pig and you need to go die." They can tell I'm homeless. They didn't care before.
But then again, before today life was an illusion.
Before today the hipsters didn't give me a second glance. Before today the girl behind the counter would give me a kind smile as I walked in, but she glares at me too.
The night before last I woke up and everyone and everything was gone. No family, no heaters, no furniture. I was asleep on the floor with a rat sniffing me to make sure I wasn't food.
I got up and looked all around the apartment, thinking maybe, for whatever odd reason, they moved to another room and didn't wake me.
But I couldn't find them.
Then I went down to the first floor, to the rooms that wouldn't open. This time they were all unlocked. The first few were empty save for a chair or oddly placed toilet here and there. Then I tried the ones on the other side.
The first one had two skeletons sitting on a bed, huddled together. It was Bruce and Marta. The second room had two more skeletons, one was a full grown person in a sagging dress. That was Latoya. And in her arms was a little skeleton. Crystal.
In the third room the Three Stooges were gathered around a 55 gallon drum that probably housed a fire to keep them warmed. Uncle Bob was in the corner with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.
The last room housed Reg's skeletal remains. He was in the fetal posission. I think he died seeing demons all around.
They had all been dead for years and no one knew. How could no one know?
Well I was freaked. I screamed, I cried, I pounded against the walls, scratched my skin, pulled my hair. I did anything to try and wake up from that nightmare. That's all I wanted to believe it was. Just a horrible nightmare the demon made me see.
But it wasn't.
I found a cop. When I tried to talk I just screamed. All I could say was "They're dead!" and I took him by the hand and led him to the apartment.
The bodies are gone now. I saw each one being taken away. I don't know what they'll do with them. I doubt they'll get a proper burial.
Before I could leave, the owner of the apartment chewed my ass out about being on private property. He said I was lucky he wouldn't press charges.
The kind owner I was told about was an illusion. The furniture was an illusion. The heaters were illusions. And the family. They weren't illusions. No, they were ghosts. Just as real as you and I, but most people can't see them. They really did take me in. I did belong to a loving family.
It just couldn't last forever.
Well the cop gave me the address of a shelter. To him I'm just another hobo. I wasn't expecting anything to turn out like on one of those miracle shows dad use to watch on PAX. (do they still call it PAX?) No one was going to offer me a home and there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell I'd turn out to be an angel and instill good fortune and blessings upon the family the family that found it in their heart to help.
No, I'm just another hobo who threw her life away.
I might stay at the shelter. Maybe not. I know of another homeless community near by I can go to. I know for a fact that this one isn't an illusion because I've seen cops check it out every couple of days or so to either find runaways or bust someone for smoking a little joint to take away the pain.
I just realized something. This laptop isn't an illusion. I wonder how a ghost got his hands on this.