This is the second short story featuring Simon William Smith, which was originally written at Creative Writing Society in December 2012
Upon the death of Simon William Smith, he became a ghost and began to walk the Earth. Slowly.
Day after day he’d walk through the streets of London. He passed through crowds of people who were going about their days without noticing him. Just as they had when he was alive.
Eventually, Simon left London and began to walk through the countryside until, at long last, he reached the lake. Snow fell around him, casting a white hue across the world as far as the eye could see. Simon’s presence didn’t disturb the snow, it fluttered through him and as he walked, he left no footprints. It was as if he had never been there. Much like his life.
He paused as he saw something glinting at him on the ground. He stooped and beheld a small round stone, jet black and shining in the moonlight. Simon reached to pick it up, an urge to skim it across the lake filled him. His fingertips reached the stone’s smooth surface and passed through without any resistance. Simon was merely a shade, he could have no effect on the world of the living.
Simon recognised this, the cruelest irony, the greatest reflection of the life he had lived. In death, much as in life, his actions or their absence affected neither anything or anyone.
Simon screamed, the pain, misery and fury which he had repressed all his life now came flowing out of him in bitter wails which no one would ever here. He wanted to run into the lake, but it would do him no good. He was already dead and could not die again.
Simon wanted to pound the very Earth, but his fists just passed straight through. In many ways this just made Simon’s anguish greater.
Time to the dead has no meaning, so after what may have been minutes, hours or millennia, Simon began to realise that he was not alone. Standing before him, watching him with sad eyes, was a tall reindeer.
Simon stared, transfixed, as the Reindeer opened his mouth and said in a kind voice that sounded ancient, “Hello Simon.”
Simon blinked, a million questions flooded his mind, “Who are you?” He asked.
“Paul” the Reindeer replied simply. There was a pack on his back, and Paul lowered his front legs, allowing it to fall onto the ground in front of Simon.
“Pick it up,” Paul said.
Simon looked at the pack uncertainly, but stooped and to his joy the pack was tangible to him. He opened it and pulled out the contents, inspecting them one by one. Black boots. A red hat. A red coat. Black trousers.
Paul nodded at him and Simon pulled on the clothes, a white beard sprouted from his face and his stomach grew larger as he did so. Simon walked to the lake and considered his reflection.
“Now they will all love you Simon” said Paul.