Do you know what it feels like to wake up from what seems to be a nightmare and realize that you are in fact dead? I do.

Right now I am looking down at my own body. My usually pin straight hair is warped around my face, filled with twigs and long dead leaves. The bright yellow poncho I wore is caked with mud and my eyes are still open.

I know I should be terrified and nervous about the fact that I am dead but… my eyes continue to stare up at me. I reach out to close them but I went straight through my own head.

The rain started up again and began to drench my corpse’s hair. The blood from my skull continued to clot and I couldn’t do anything but watch it. I looked around in wonder. Where is everyone?

I use to imagine what would happen when I died. The flowers that would be laid on my casket and the witty sayings my headstone would tell. My family would cry and console each other over my body. People from my school that never spoke one single word to me would say nice things at my funeral.

I am dead now and no one is rushing over to my body in the bushes. I feel like shouting to let people know where I am but they didn’t hear me when I was alive. Why would that change this time?

The sun was beginning to set and the wind began to rattle the bushes into a wild frenzy. The fallen paint can rolled close to my body. Then the red hue spilled out, mixing with my hair. It started turning my once black hair to a deep brown.

I felt nauseated over the site but I couldn’t look away. I was dead and I couldn’t do anything.

I guess about an hour later the night crew janitors walked by the big bush. I screamed at them to look toward me but they opened the heavy school doors and walked inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft click.

You think they would have noticed the fallen ladder next to the bush? Or noticed the pale arm sticking out on the grass below?

The sky darkened and then the moon rose ahead. I’ve always loved the sight of the moon but tonight it didn’t bring the comfort I needed. I have never felt so alone in my entire life... or could I even say that sentence since it didn't make sense now that I don't actually breathe?

I sat down next to my body and wished I could hug it so it wouldn’t feel lonely but every time I went to touch my own arm, my ghostly hands it went straight through.

The banner I was painting began to violently flap because the wind began to pick up. Then it was released from the tacks, and floated down to land on my bush above, shielding my body from the rain.

The paint from the banner dripped and splattered on leafs. I wish I could swipe the paint off as it slowly pooled on my own forehead.

Hours seemed to pass as the rain dwindled in intensity. I stayed beside my body waiting for some to notice the fact that I never made it home. I could hear footsteps and I saw the principal of the school walk up to the main doors.

He was whistling a tune I didn’t know and his keys slipped out of his hand. We both reached out to get them and my fingers went through his tips. He shuddered as if some person tossed ice down his shirt.

The principal who usually was a tan man seemed to pale as he looked straight through me. I turned around and glanced at the blood on the grass then my naked foot twisted in a strange angle. He gasped and said “Mother of God…” and I really wish I knew if he was talking about the blood or the fact that my toenails were painted a bright pink.

He began to grope around in his pocket, dropping his keys on to the grass. He turned his face away dialing what seemed to be 911. I felt relieved that someone found my body but sickened at the same time and scared for what am I without my body?