E is for Emma

Strange to be speaking in first person. My story, Your Name Is Emma was an exploration in second-person narrative. Fascinated by the character depth in certain online serialized web series using this method of storytelling, the scribbler decided to try it herself. Thus Emma was born. That’s me. The girl in the black hat squashed down her head and the baggy sweatshirt hunched over a notebook, a book, and a coffee in the corner of my favorite café. I’m also a ghost. Strange. I hid behind books, trying to lose myself in beautiful prose when I was alive. Now no one can see me. The coffee house is starting to change. More families and people with noisy smartphones (are they really that intelligent?) are starting to invest the place. I can no longer drink coffee or even hold the mug which contains it. I cannot even pick up a book and read it unless someone else does. Or I possess someone. Unfortunately that attracts the Soul Takers. They may appear as missionaries selling salvation, salespeople selling anything. I’m the only one who can see their death’s head grins, their sharp teeth, the glowing fires of hell in the sockets where their eyes should be. They can also see me. I’m trying to avoid them, best I can. Only I keep coming back to this coffee house. Or Esther. The girlfriend whom I never appreciated when I was alive. Like so many things. I’ve got so much unfinished business. Like my own story. I wish the scribbler would return to Your Name Is Emma. I wish a lot of things.