His Name was Elliot

I sit inside a train, watching. Outside is a red haired boy and a red haired woman. His mother. I've been watching this particular boy for a while now. He and the red haired woman are going to their house. They live alone. I stand up and walk out of the train, and the boy waves to me, smiling. I wave back.
"Who are you waving to?" The red haired woman asks the boy.
"Emily! I told you about her, remember?" He chirps back. Normally, someone telling others about me would be a problem, but he is a child, and children have imaginary friends.
"Oh, yes, of course! How could I forget?" The red haired woman replies. She then waves to a position a bit to my right. She, of course, can't see me.
The boy and the red haired woman walk up the steps to their front door, which is slightly ajar. The house is in rather good condition. Most of the houses, buildings, and everything else from before would be ruined by now, but it seems they have taken good care of the house. The boy rushes in. The red haired woman follows a few moments later.
There is a man there. He has a knife. The knife is on the boy's throat. Cutting. Slicing. Then the knife is in the red haired woman's shoulder. She takes an old gun out of her pocket. She aims it at the man. It doesn't work, but he doesn't know that. The man runs out.
The red haired woman runs towards she boy. She slips in blood. She hunches over him. He moans and twitches. She sobs. Her arm bleeds, but she will not die. Not yet. I walk over to him. I touch his shoulder. His soul gets up and walks out of the body. The twitching stops.
"Wh..." He tries.
"Shh. Don't try to speak," I tell him. He nods. He sits down. He watches.
"Do you have anything you need to do before you go? Anything you want to ask?" I ask him.
"I don't... I don't think so..."
"Okay then," I touch his shoulder. He fades. I leave the house. I walk down the steps, and down the street. The sobs fade eventually, too.

Author's Note

I know Emily seems cold, but she has her reasons. And just to clarify, for this book, ghosts do age, so I think now she would be seventeen.

Reviews

[Ashley]

I don't know if it was intended but everything feels a bit off, a bit creepy. I think it adds to the text personally. Gives a little bit of context. The dilapidated houses tells the reader a little bit about where they live. I would like to find out more about the man. Whether those attacks are common or a one of, and if so, why he choose them.

[Ember Smyth]

Thank you for your review! :)

[Aarea]

Interesting idea. I am excited to read more. I love the abruptness of the man attacking. Good work keep on writing.

[Ember Smyth]

Thank you for your review! :)