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A veces, cuando ambos estamos solos juntos en un lugar tranquilo, como la biblioteca por la noche, podemos mirarnos directamente a los ojos durante varios minutos sin decir una palabra. Es solo después de un tiempo que me doy cuenta de que me ha estado observando todo el tiempo.
Pero, de nuevo, tal vez siempre me ha estado mirando. Tal vez nunca aparto la vista de él porque sé que me estaría observando sin importar qué. La primera vez que esto me sucedió, no estaba seguro de si lo había imaginado. Pero luego, después de verlo un par de veces más a lo largo de los años, llegué a comprender que era real. Y también me di cuenta de que él no quería nada de mí. De hecho, creo que no quería nada de nadie.
El fantasma de un anciano con un traje azul con cabello blanco no aparece todos los días ni siquiera todas las semanas, pero cuando aparece, siempre estoy consciente de su presencia. Cuando aparece, trato de recordar cuándo lo vi por última vez para saber cuánto tiempo ha estado ausente. Cuando me encuentro pensando en él, sé que debo ir a un lugar tranquilo y esperar hasta que regrese.
Si salgo con mis amigos, podría olvidarme de él por completo. Eso sucede a veces. Pero cuando lo vuelvo a ver, siempre es lo mismo: se para en silencio frente a mí, mirándome. Y me pregunto por qué no sigue adelante.
¿Por qué no se va? ¿Está esperando algo? ¿Necesita algo de mí? ¿O simplemente está disfrutando de estar donde está ahora mismo? Pienso en esto cada vez que lo veo, pero realmente no sé lo que se supone que debo hacer. ¿Debo hablar con él? ¿O no debería? No sé.
Hasta ahora, no nos hemos dicho una sola palabra el uno al otro. Nunca hemos intercambiado ninguna palabra. Quizás eso es lo que nos hace diferentes. Creo que le tengo miedo. Pero él no me tiene miedo. Él sabe quién soy. Pero aún así, no dice nada. Ni una sola palabra.
¿Y si le pregunto si quiere algo de mí? ¿Respondería? Me pregunto. He pensado en preguntarle muchas veces, pero nunca lo he hecho. Después de todo, nunca he hablado con él. No sé qué le gusta. No sé cómo suena su voz. No sé nada de él, excepto que le gusta verme. Supongo que algún día le preguntaré.
Cuando era más joven, solía escuchar historias sobre fantasmas y espíritus, pero las descartaba como tonterías. Ahora que soy mayor, entiendo que eran ciertos. Los fantasmas son reales. Están en todas partes. Llegan a nuestras vidas cuando menos lo esperamos. Son silenciosos y, sin embargo, su presencia es lo suficientemente fuerte como para hacerte sentir incómodo. Pero una vez que se han ido, todo se siente mejor, al menos por un rato.
Sometimes when we are both alone together in a quiet place, like the library at night, we might look each other straight in the eye for several minutes without saying a word. It is only after a while that I realize he has been watching me all along.
But then again, maybe he was always looking at me. Maybe I never look away from him because I know he would be watching me no matter what. The first time this happened to me, I wasn't sure if I had imagined it. But then, after seeing him a few more times over the years, I came to understand that he was real. And I realized too that he didn't want anything from me. In fact, I think he wanted nothing from anyone.
The ghost of an old man in a blue suit with white hair does not appear every day or even every week, but when he appears, I am always aware of his presence. When he shows up, I try to remember when I last saw him so that I will know how long he has been gone. When I find myself thinking about him, I know that I should go somewhere quiet and wait until he comes back.
If I hang out with my friends, I might forget about him altogether. That happens sometimes. But when I do see him again, it is always the same: he stands quietly in front of me, looking at me. And I wonder why he doesn't move on.
Why doesn't he leave? Is he waiting for something? Does he need something from me? Or is he simply enjoying being where he is right now? I think about this every time I see him, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. Should I talk to him? Or shouldn't I? I don't know.
So far, we haven't spoken a single word to each other. We have never exchanged any words. Perhaps that's what makes us different. I think that I am afraid of him. But he isn't afraid of me. He knows who I am. But still, he doesn't say anything. Not one single word.
What if I asked him if he wants anything from me? Would he answer? I wonder. I've thought about asking him many times, but I've never done it. After all, I've never talked to him before. I don't know what he likes. I don't know what he sounds like. I don't know anything about him except that he likes to watch me. I guess I'll ask him someday.
When I was younger, I used to hear stories about ghosts and spirits, but I dismissed them as nonsense. Now that I'm older, I understand that they were true. Ghosts are real. They're everywhere. They come into our lives when we least expect it. They are silent, and yet their presence is strong enough to make you feel uneasy. But once they are gone, everything feels better. For a while, anyway.
Está aquí. Se va. Va a volver. No hay nada especial en él. No sé por qué elige mostrarse ante mí, pero me alegro de que lo haga. Me ha empezado a gustar estar cerca de él. Me gusta poder contarles a mis amigos sobre él. Me gusta decirles que lo vi. Me gusta hablar de él. Me encanta decirles que me vio. Porque lo hace todo el tiempo.
Esa es la parte más extraña de todo: sé que él me está mirando. Lo observo, pero tal vez él no lo sabe. No sé por qué me mira, pero creo que le gusto. Creo que le gusto mucho. Creo que piensa en mí como alguien en quien puede confiar. Alguien que no lo rechazará. Realmente creo que le gusto por alguna razón.
Lo he visto mucho desde que comencé la universidad y estoy bastante seguro de que he notado un vistazo de él mientras estaba en mi apartamento. ¿Tal vez él está apegado a mí? ¿Pero por qué? Ni siquiera nos comunicamos entre nosotros. Solo nos miramos el uno al otro.
Una vez le conté a una amiga sobre él. Ella no me creyó, por supuesto. — Estás inventando esto, dijo. — No hay tal cosa como fantasmas.
— Sí, lo hay, respondí. — Y lo he visto.
Ella negó con la cabeza. — No, no lo has hecho. Debes estar imaginando cosas. Los fantasmas no son reales.
La miré fijamente. ¿Cómo podría decir eso? Lo he visto. Sé que existe. Pero también sé que no puedo probarlo. No puedo decirle a nadie cómo suena. No puedo describir su personalidad. No puedo explicar lo que hace.
No puedo decirle a nadie lo que él quiere. Todo lo que sé es que a él le gusta verme. Es todo. Estoy seguro de que lo he visto muchas veces y probablemente lo seguiré viendo hasta el día en que muera.
He's here. He's gone. He's coming back. There's nothing special about him. I don't know why he chooses to show himself to me, but I'm glad he does. I have started to like being around him. I like being able to tell my friends about him. I like telling them that I saw him. I like talking about him. I love telling them that he watched me. Because he does all the time.
That's the strangest part of it all: I know that he is watching me. I watch him but maybe he doesn't know that. I don't know why he watches me, but I think he likes me. I think he likes me very much. I think he thinks of me as someone he can trust. Someone he can depend upon. Someone who won't reject him. I really think he likes me for some reason.
I've seen him a lot since I started college and I am pretty sure I have noticed a glimpse of him while on my apartment. Maybe he is attached to me? But why? We don't even communicate with each other. We only look at each other.
Once I told a friend about him. She didn't believe me, of course. — You're making this up, she said. — There's no such thing as ghosts.
— Yes, there is, I answered. — And I've seen him.
She shook her head. — No, you haven't. You must be imagining things. Ghosts aren't real.
I stared at her. How could she say that? I've seen him. I know he exists. But I also know that I can't prove it. I can't tell anyone what he sounds like. I can't describe his personality. I can't explain what he does.
I can't tell anyone what he wants. All I know is that he likes to watch me. That's all. I am certain that I have seen him many times and will probably continue to see him until the day I die.
Other fictional stories of my authorship
Otros relatos de ficción de mi autoría
About DedicatedguyWriting about various topics, learning about the ever-expanding crypto world, and doing a little bit of trading is how I spend most of my days. My preferred forms of entertainment are films, series, European football, and a good book from time to time. I chose "dedicatedguy" as my username to constantly remind myself about the importance of consistency and dedication in order to achieve any desired result we might want in life. If this post provided something of value to you, any type of positive interaction such as a comment, reblog, or upvote is highly appreciated. ❤️ |  |