I See Dead People But This is Not a Ghost Story by Mileva Anastasiadou (Greece, 50)

​I see dead people just like the kid in the movie. They speak to me all the time, they haunt me, and
they’re not aware, they can’t tell what’s wrong, they are confused, afraid, upset, they laugh, they
cry, they gesture, and just like the kid in the movie, I don’t tell the truth, I play along, and we feign
life and normalcy, as if no disaster can touch us.
​​I see the dead and we speak about the news and future plans and past regrets, because I have the
magical sixth sense. I watch them smile, dream, be happy, fall apart, then rise up and smile again. I
watch the loop repeat, the downward spiral, and I wave goodbye to the sound of ‘If you go away’,
sung by Terry Jacks in a sad but less melodramatic way, the banality of grief-to-come briefly
interrupted by loud bursts of hope, and it isn’t a love song, it’s but a goodbye song, and this is
saddening, but even more saddening is the uncertainty; the dead could evaporate and vanish and
you never know when it’s the last time you see them.

I walk among the dead but not like the kid in the movie. I see dead people but this isn’t a ghost
story, because they aren’t ghosts yet, but someday they will be, they come to me for comfort, and I
lie when I say we’re forever, but also I don’t, for we’re the glitch in the matrix, we remember,
believe, hope, and we care. We dig holes in reality and we hide there, and we love hard, against
odds, and we beat death all the time.





Mileva Anastasiadou is a neurologist, from Athens, Greece and the author of "We Fade With Time" by Alien Buddha Press. A Pushcart, Best of the Net, Best Microfiction and Best Small Fictions nominated writer, her work can be found in many journals, such as the Chestnut Review, New World Writing, Milk Candy Review, the Bureau Dispatch, and others.