The time is near once again for me to take my formless shape and walk amongst the world I left behind. Year after year I rise to behold a world that has long forgotten my name or contributions.
I rise from my resting place, though I cannot feel the ground I'm sure it is cold and stiff from the frigid winds above. Just like my decaying body below, sealed away turning to dust.
I take a moment to survey my surroundings, once again things have changed. The gate that once separated this area from the homes is now rusted and falling apart. The homes themselves seem larger with bright golden light streaming from every glass pane. The gravestones around me look older, crumbled, and skewed with moss or lichen. Mine isn't in the best shape either. The letters and numbers that once told the story of my life are no longer legible. My name, however, still deeply carved into the cold stone, was the one thing that I could still read. This name was as foreign to me as the luminous homes and changing world.
I wandered away from my grave into the black paved streets. Leaves of orange, red, and yellow littered the yards. They were illuminated by the bright yellow lights lining the sidewalks and homes. This made the leaves look like beautiful flames glowing on the ground. Children race through me, giggling and chatting away. Buckets swinging on their arms full to the brim with lavishly packaged candies and trinkets. They wore brightly colored masks and merrily skipped from home to home chanting some poems in exchange for treats.
Every year I awake to this scene, each time I rise everything is bigger, different, and more advanced than the last. This scene though, fallen leaves, masked children, festivities, the warmth that seems to linger on every human that passes despite the night air nipping their skin, reminds me of a past that doesn't feel real anymore. Their warmth seems to pass onto me despite my formless shape. A feeling that encumbered my soul, something more 'human' than I can feel on my own.
This feeling, I regret to say, makes me hunger for something more. Connection, senses, embrace, these are things that I remember from so long ago. Much else can't be recalled, but the lingering warmth drives me to reach out. To try, no matter how desperate it seems, to connect with someone, anyone who might let me feel again. This desperation eats away at my soul, I am formless but I feel the ghostly tears pouring from my being.
The warmth fades and I am left empty again, grasping at any traces left that could bring me back to that moment of humanity that I lost when I perished. Alas, all things must come to an end. The children that once ran giggling through the streets with their buckets in tow, were now tucked safely away in the luminous homes. The golden light that spilled from every glass pane, one by one flickered to darkness. The brightly colored leaves that resembled glowing flames seemed dull and listless. The warmth was gone now as if it was never there to begin with.
Still desperately reeling, I wander some more, this time into the warmth of their homes. Through the wooden doors and dimly lit halls, I came upon a sight full of the warmth I craved so intensely. Two small children of similar age, sitting together unwrapping their lavish candies and chattering away. Two grown humans sit nearby, smiling warmly at the children, embracing one another softly. The warmth crept into my soul again, this time I was sure I'd be able to connect with them, to feel human again.
I tried to get their attention, but they could not feel me when I touched them or see me when I was near. Frustration set in, settling deep within my essence. My thoughts began to drown in frustration. They could have the warmth but not me? Even if my time walking this world has expired, this felt too cruel of a fate. With this new emotion coursing through my formless shape, I lashed out using my tainted rage and wrapped sense of self. To my surprise, the small golden light that lit the room in the corner was smashed to pieces. The shards scattered, cutting one of the small children on the cheek. The warmth was gone in an instant moment of rage and frustration. In its stead, fear and stillness took its place. The children trembled and the adults seemed frozen in fear. I, but a formless shape, was powerless in comfort or connection. I could only sit idly watching, waiting for their reaction. A small part of me, despite the recognizable fear on their faces, still hoped that they would see me, feel me, and want to connect. But that too was shattered in mere seconds.
I bolted out of the home as the crying began. I felt not the warmth I desired, but coldness, isolation, and sorrow. I wandered back to the rusted iron gate that stood weakly between my world and theirs. I glanced around this seemingly gloomy world of mine. The moon was at the peak of the sky, it gave a weak silver light to the graveyard, making the dew on the grass shimmer like jewels. A lone owl hooted in the distance, crickets chirped their choir song hiding beneath the fallen leaves. Calmness and serenity seemed to fill every aspect of this world, of my world.
I took one last glance at the warmth I'd be leaving behind once again before passing through the gate. There was a heaviness that weighed on my soul. The lingering feelings of humanity still fresh in my essence, made this goodbye particularly difficult. However, I knew the world of warmth was far behind me and I could no longer trick myself into believing that I could continue to walk amongst them with the same warmth.
As I returned to my grave, my final resting place, I relished in the merriment I had witnessed, the warmth that filled me, the emotions I had once forgotten, the scenes I will hold onto through my deep slumber. I laid myself to rest once again, but this time I let myself feel as I once would have when I was alive. I pictured myself in a home as large as theirs, basking in the warmth of the golden light, holding a loved one close, and connecting with everyone around me. For once being in this coffin felt warm and comforting.