Pilot
I float down the empty hallways, sliding my finger through the wall and the paintings hanging upon it as I go. My name is Eleanor but when I was alive people probobly called me Nora. That's right. I'm dead. Well more specifically I'm a ghost. I've been trapped in this house ever since I died. I don't know the year but I know it's been a while by the look of this house and the clothes people walking by are wearing. The only reason I know my name is Eleanor is because I found a picture of myself that had a name on the back. The picture supposedly was taken when I was seven. I don't know the current year but on the back of the photo it says 1926.
I look at myself in the hall bathroom mirror. My reflection blurry and almost see through. I've grown up quit a bit since I was seven. My eyes were still big and my hair was still wavy but my features matured. I pull my hair and make weird faces at myself. I wonder what I'd look like with a different hair style. Probably the worst thing about being a ghost is you can't change yourself. Since I can barely make things float enough to turn them over, I definitly wouldn't be able to use a hair tie. It would probobly go right through my fingers. I sigh and walk back out into the hallway and continue my travels.
I do this every morning. I wake up, unlike most stories ghosts kind of sleep or at least go into some weird hibernation, and head downstairs to slowly walk to the living room. I find my seat at the window sill and stare out at the people walking by. No one so far has been able to see me. Burglars broke in one day and I just walked around watching them break things and steal some stuff. Nothing of true value was here so they left pretty quick. It might sound strange but I miss them. They were the only people I had seen up close in a very long time. Even if they couldn't see me or hear me the company was still nice.
My depressing thoughts are interrupted by a vehicle driving up the drive way to park infront of the house. It's headlights turning off and then moments later a man comes out of the drivers side. His strong build and broad shoulders would have intimidated me if I wasn't already dead. I watch as he gazes up at the house in curiosity. I watch him pull out his mobile device from his pocket and type in something before putting it up to his ear. “Hello? Yes Hi, I'm calling about the house on Silent hill drive? Yes, 601 that's the house... It's for sale? Ok... that would be great! Thank you, bye.” I over hear his conversation and scrunch up my nose. Who's idea was it to sell my house? Why would they? It's so old and run down I'm suprised anyone would want it.
I look again at the man who just inquired about my house. He smiles and walks over to the door. I watch him peer into the window and I move back. He squints at the window I'm standing infront of before shaking his head and walking off with a sigh. ~That was strange ~ I think to myself. He seemed to have noticed something where I was but it couldn't have been me. I've spent years looking out this window and no one has noticed before.
I float closer to the window, gazing out and watching the man climb back into his vehicle before driving away. I wonder if he'll be buying my house. What would that mean for me? Do I disappear if someone else moves in? I wouldn't mind disappearing. Finally finding out what's on the other, other side. At the same time though living with a person would be interesting too. Finally having someone there to hear and watch and not be so completly alone. I sometimes wish someone else would die just so I could have company, but who knows if I'd even be able to see another ghost.
I spent my whole day looking at the world continue it's life. While myself is stuck in this stale, unmoveing and unchanging mirror world. It was cold and lonely with nothing to do except sometimes sending gusts of wind to scare birds that had gotten in through the broken window. Sometimes I could guide one over using the wind and brush it's wings. It took alot of energy though and the bird would fly away so it wasn't worth it in the end.
The light outside was slowly melting into night as I got up and started floating to my room. My room was a heavely run down and drafty attic but it was filled with open books so I could read them. The pages light enough for me to turn a few before getting tired. It was also where I woke up when I first became a ghost. I don't know why I was in the attic. I don't have any outward wounds and there isn't blood anywhere on the floor in the house. I don't think I was murdered but why else would I be stuck as a ghost if not for unfinished business? I can't remember anything of my time as a human so I wouldn't know what is afflicting my death.
I float into a sitting position on the floor and turn a few pages in my book. Eventually I drift off in a dream-less sleep.
