Darby Gulch: A Short Story

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After school was out Philip waited on the bleachers behind the school for Joe’s football practice to be over. The Darby Gulch High football team wasn’t much to be envious over. The plays were sloppy and predictable, at least according to most of the players parents. Of course, also according to them, this was solely the coach's fault. Although, cutting Mr.Galindo some slack, have a mascot like ‘The Darby Gulch Seagulls’ doesn’t really pull fear out of our enemies. Basketball, baseball, Soccer, Volleyball, basically any other sport than football in Darby Gulch had a good team. Philip was suppose to play basketball next season, then soccer the season after that. At this point in his life he wasn’t sure. He had planned on quitting baseball before …show more content…

Then, out the corner of his eye he saw a small figure. Snapping his head to look at the opposite side of the bleachers he saw someone standing on the grass, too far away to see. “Dammit!” He cursed under his breath and squinted his eyes to try and get a better look. He took his time stepping down each bleacher to get a better vantage point. When he was about a quarter to the end the figure became clear. Philip’s face became pale, the familiar hollow feeling in his chest returned, and his hands were shaking almost uncontrollably. “Evelyn?” He whispered so horsley he could barely hear the words himself. There, standing at the end of the bleachers stood Evelyn in her homecoming dress, hair done up around an expressionless face. Philip’s breath hitched and Joe, noticing the shift in his best friend’s actions, called out to …show more content…

She was no longer wearing her homecoming dress. Instead she had on black jeans, a light pink and black striped shirt with a light pink cardigan, and her hair in two separate braids. She stood upright over his bed and as he slowly sat up, she slowly sat down on the chair next to his desk. “Yes, it is me, no need to whisper though.” She stated, playing around with the hem of her shirt. “I need to talk to you.” She said plainly and Philip kept blinking his eyes, wondering when she would vanish again. “This isn’t real, you’re dead.” He whispered again, shaking his head profusely. “This is real, I know I’m dead, and I already told you to stop whispering.” She uttered the last part more aggressively than the rest of her sentence. Philip was shocked, he was flabbergasted, he felt ready to pass out or call for his mother like he use to when he was afraid. “”How are you talking to me?” Was his first question, as well as the first thing he hadn’t whispered. “I don’t know, I’m not sure how this works either.” Her reply did not satisfy him, but he couldn’t think of how to go about telling a ghost (if that’s what she is) that they are

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