Happily Ever Afterwards

Spin the bottle was a bad idea.

You could blame this all on Matty Edwards, because he was the one who suggested it.

But there's no way out now. I'm dead. I can't just click my fingers and live again.

But the worst thing about being dead, is that you just keep on living, but the living can't see you. It really hurts, watching people carry on without you. But there's a catch. The dead can see other dead. I suppose it makes sense. But there's one other thing. I'm 17, and I have a girlfriend. Or had. She's still alive, and she's moving on. I guess this is Afterlife, and let me tell you, it sucks.


2. 1


"OH MY GOD!" Ellie wails, leaping away. "He's dead!"

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and raise an eyebrow.

"Ellie, I think you'll find I'm very much alive."

But she looks right through me, and carries on screaming like a..I don't know, a retarded bird.

She splashes out of the sea, sending little erruptions of silvery water everywhere. What the hell? What is she even on about? Did my kiss go so bad that is sent her to insanity? I roll my eyes, following her onto the sand. Maybe she's simply trying to play a crappy prank on the others. Well, she certainly managed to do the trick, because everyone's kind of shook up in disbelief.

"Dead?" Matty whispers.

Ellie rubs her temples, nodding.

I chuckle to myself, crossing my arms. I'll break the spell.

"I'm here, guys, I'm still alive," I laugh.

There's silence. And then nothing.

Tommy starts to cry. Sarah's shaking.

"Shouldn't we like..get his body?" Mel suggests, trying to steady herself to her feet.

My smirk drops.

"Guys.." I start, but I'm interrupted.

"What if someone thinks we murdered him?" Matty says.

"What the hell Matty? He's dead, okay? We need to get his body, not just leave it in the bloody sea."

Matty shuts up. I push myself into the middle of their little circle, holding my hands up.

"This isn't even funny," I declare. "It's pretty boring, actually. Stop god damned ignoring me, we're not six years old. Grow up, and let's open another vodka or something."

"Fine," Tommy says, pushing himself to his feet.

"Thank you, Tommy," I breathe with relief. "At least we have one matur-"

"I'll go get his body."

And with that he walks off.


I groan and flump into the sand. This joke is going way too far now. I close my eyes and run my fingers through my curls.

When I open them again, Tommy is kneeling in the middle of the circling, sobbing silently over what appears to be a sleeping body.


That's not a sleeping body.

That's my body.

What the hell is going on here?

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