Graceful Ghost

By Gayoung Cha, Grade 9

There was a ghost dancing at the edge of the hall. His dance was graceful; this was the only word that I could think of. That ghost, who stepped on the ground lightly and moved his arms carefully, his tears were dropping down to the floor- clink clink– and still shook his body softly. The violinist at the back was playing a piece of music in the background for the people who were dancing in the hall. I felt the music was jumping, hopping, but missing something desperately as the sky misses the sun at night. The melancholic and atmospheric opening made me remember that I once heard that music: it made me feel nostalgic and somehow empty. It was the perfect music for dancing, but I didn’t dance because I could not stop staring at the ghost’s dance.

“Mom, do you know why is he dancing over there alone?” I asked, and my mom nodded her head. Her eyes suddenly looked like a deep, dark blue sea.

“Darling, I’ll tell you a story about him. He is the saddest ghost of all.”

The story starts a long time ago when the ghost was a young man. He had one wife and one child: the child was only three years old, and the young man’s wife was beautiful but weak. Her face under the eyes was full of long dark circles, hollow-cheeked, and she was just skin-and-bones. When she was pregnant, she suffered from the childbirth process and become feeble. That’s why the child was always so sweet and never whined to his mother: he knew that his mother was ill because of him, so he always stayed right next to her bed and prayed every single night before sleep.

One day, a soul of death visited the young man’s house. The soul was figureless: it had no face or body, it was overlaid with a black cape and made the house grim by only coming into the entrance. He was holding a yellow postcard, that invites one person in this house to the underworld — where dead people go.

“I must take your wife,” the soul of death said.

“Wife? My wife?” the young man asked.

“Yes, your wife. It’s time for me to take her. She needs to go with me now,” the soul said firmly.

The young man started to tremble. He could feel his every single organ shaking. His heart began bouncing so vigorously that even the soul could hear the bouncing. The young man wasn’t ready for his wife’s death. He couldn’t let the soul of death just take her and make his child a child without any happy memories with his mother.

“What about taking one year of my life? I’ll do anything if I can spend more time with my wife,” the young man said.

The soul of course said no, though the young man pleaded so much that now the soul felt a little pathetic. The soul took one year of the young man’s life and went away.

‘This is the right choice,’ the young man thought, ‘My child is praying every night for his mother’s health, how can I let the soul of death take my wife?’

Nothing matters, just take mine.

The following year, a soul of death knocked on the door again. Again, with the yellow postcard. “I must take your wife,” the soul said.

“My wife is getting better and better. It’s not right taking her now,” the young man said. So the soul shouted, “Then what should I do? Give one more year of your life then, you stubborn.” The soul couldn’t understand the young man; his wife will be dead eventually, why is he giving years and years of his life? Why does he sacrifice?

But the young man said,

“Nothing matters, just take mine.”

One more year later, a soul of death opened the door. Right after the young man saw the yellow postcard with a soul, he pushed the soul of death and said, “Take another year of my life again, I’m totally fine with it.” He was so stressed and afraid of the soul which visits his house every year. Also, his wife became perfectly healthy, so he couldn’t give up now. But the soul acted differently.

“I will not take your wife, because she is now fully healthy and the child needs a guardian,” the soul said.

“Oh, thank God, thank you,” the young man responded, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“However,” the soul continued,

“it’s your turn now.”

“My turn? What do you mean? SAY IT CLEARLY!” the young man shouted.

“You used your entire life. You should come with me or I’ll just take your wife instead,” the soul said calmly.

“How… How can you be so heartless?”

The young man’s voice was quivering. He felt so distraught. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to die. He was just a young man, had lots of things to do and lots of things that he dreamed of. He wanted to travel to the coast with his wife and child, drink wine with his wife, and teach how to play monopoly to his child. “I cannot just leave my child like this. Please give me one more day, then I will follow you without any resistance or beg,” he said. The soul left, without making a fuss. The man cried and cried until his two eyes got too swollen that he could taste the taste of salt over his cheek.

“My love, my whole, let’s dance,” the young man said to his child.

“Yay! Daddy!”

The young man cued the violinist to play the music. It was soft, graceful, but sad music and it seemed like it shows the young man’s emotion on behalf of him. He grabbed his child’s hand. It was warm: the smell of baby made the young man more cry, though he did his best not to show him crying to his child at their last play. They stepped and moved their body softly. The young man tried to capture this memory forever: he paid all of his attention to his child, jumping, stepping with his tiny little feet, and smiling towards him. He looked like a pure angel.

“Daddy! I’m tired!” his child said.

“Let’s dance one more time, my sweetie,” the young man said.

“No, I’m tired! Daddy!” his child started to jump and stump. The young man felt so down. He wanted to dance one more time and finish. So that he could remember this moment. So that he could recall this memory over and over again in the future. However, he couldn’t force his child to dance with him anymore. It will be the child’s last time playing with his dad. How can a dad force something on his child at the last moment while playing with a child?

“Okay, let’s go to bed.”

The next day, the soul of death came into the young man’s house. The young man stepped out and waved at the soul of death. The child came out with him, too, grabbing the edge of the young man’s pants with his tiny little hand. The soul handed out the yellow postcard to the young man. The young man grasped the child’s shoulder and kneeled right in front of him so that he could align his face and his child’s face.

“My love, now I must go somewhere. It’s not that far and I will come back soon, so don’t worry. Always be kind to your mother and protect her. Again, don’t wait for me. I will come back for you, right there in the hall where we used to dance together. I promise. Love you,” the young man told his child.

“Where are you going, daddy?” asked the child. The young man didn’t answer and just turned around.

“Let’s go now. Hurry,” the young man spoke to the soul. His voice was the deepest voice the soul ever heard from the young man, he looked so gloomy but resolute. The soul couldn’t stop making the tears in its eyes, but this was what the soul meant to do. It grabbed the young man’s hand and jumped. It took the young man from a child and went nowhere. The only sound that the young man could hear lastly was his child crying and calling him with a small, trembling voice.

“That’s why he is dancing over there alone. He is recalling his memory of dancing with his child over and over again so that he will not forget the memory forever. But look, he kept his promise with his child at last. He came back,” my mom said.

My eyes were full of tears, I could hardly control myself not to burst into tears. “Really? Where is the child? Please tell me, where is he?” I asked.

Then, my mom answered,

“Oh, my darling. That ghost… is your dad.”