He watched the last wall fall on the Daylight Theatre. Another ghost of the past, finally laid to rest. Just like all the other landmarks of his memories. How long had it been? He was afraid to know. “I wish I could at least still feel something.” he thought to himself. Running his chalky fingers against the hard tile floor of the balcony. All these years and still no understanding to why he remains on earth. “Still the only one like this. Still invisible to the world” he muttered. Scratching where his hair used to be. His body had rotted away decades ago, but he would still occasionally have the phantom sensation of skin and flesh. All that remains is a bony husk. No longer a person, but merely a framework of what could have at one time been a human being.
What had he done to deserve this? Doomed to watch the world go on without him. To see everything and everyone forget he ever existed, then cease to exist themselves. He doesn’t remember being that bad of a guy in life. But maybe his situation wasn’t special. Maybe everyone ends up like this. Maybe just as the living can’t see him, he can’t see the others like him. If that was true, then we are all doomed to this fate. Death is isolation. And the afterlife? Nothing more than a prison. We’re all forced to watch. He would have laughed, if he could’ve remembered how.