Delilah

It was five o’clock on a Friday night in the city and the train station was busy with tired workers wanting to go home. Delilah didn’t really know where she was going. A cold breeze flew through the station and she shivered, pulling her fur coat tightly around her. She knew there was no point in trying to dull the sharp cold though. She had tried countless times before, but nothing ever worked. It didn’t really matter anyway, she’d been dead long enough that she was used to it by now and warmth was a long-forgotten feeling. Sighing, Delilah silently slipped on board the train that arrived and into an empty corner.

When she got off the train, she was still in the city but more uptown where all the fancy hotels and shops were. There were lots of people out tonight and Delilah tried her best to stay out of their way. She hated the feeling she got when people walked through her. It made her feel so much more alone.

Delilah noticed that most of the crowd was headed toward the theatre and so she decided to follow them. Avoiding getting walked through was impossible as she entered and continued to follow the crowd. Everyone was dressed up and if she were actually visible she would fit right in.

At the time of her death, Delilah was coming back from a gala held in the ballroom in this very building. It was the middle of winter and the roads were icy and the cab she’d caught home crashed. She didn’t know if the driver died or not and she didn’t really care to be honest. She didn’t even know she was dead until she went home to find her parents bawling their eyes out when they heard of her death. Delilah remembered going from confused to scared to angry as she screamed at them to look at her until realisation set in and she figured it out. The next week she followed them to her own funeral. She wasn’t too sure if it was all real or not until she saw herself in a black coffin, eyes shut, the colour gone from her skin. Delilah hung around for a few days before she chose to stay away, her parents’ grief too much for her to take. Because ghosts can’t make physical contact with anyone or thing, she had stayed in the same clothes she had worn to the last gala two sad years ago. A satin red dress and fur coat with gold heels, all splattered in her own blood. She could take her coat off, but she didn’t because she was afraid of losing one of the only things she could touch. Her dark hair was also done up in a loose bun at the back of her head and every now and then she redid it or changed it. There weren’t many perks to being dead but one of them was that her hair stayed soft and shiny all the time and did whatever she wanted it to do.

Delilah discovered that they were in fact going to the ballroom and she was strangely happy about this. She hadn’t danced in what felt like an eternity.

Waiting for everyone to enter the ballroom before her, Delilah walked through the doors and took in the scene before her.

Crystal chandeliers, white table cloths, bowls of punch, waitresses coming from a door in the far corner with plates of finger food and champagne, and laughter and music was heard throughout the whole room.

She breathed in, out, in again and made her way to the dance floor where she danced and twirled gracefully around the other people there. As she danced it almost felt like she was alive again. Almost. The cold was still there but she hadn’t knocked into anyone and gone right through them yet, becoming even colder in the process.

Everything was okay for the first time in years and Delilah danced for hours until she became a little bit comfortable and didn’t watch where she was going. She collided - actually collided - with someone else and was immediately filled with warmth but as soon as she stumbled backwards it was gone.

Shocked, Delilah looked to the person to find him staring at her with curious eyes, a champagne glass with a purple drink in it in his right hand.

“Dale Mannons, how lovely it is to finally meet you Delilah. This is apple black currant juice, I swear.” He said with a humorous grin on his face as he put out his free hand to shake hers.

Completely speechless, Delilah reached out and shook it, warmth spreading from her hand to the rest of her body making her want to hold onto his hand forever if it meant the cold would go away forever as well.

Ava Ware 7A

Art

Year 9 Art