Yang_Studio

Cursing the dark, I decided to step out and find someone who could tell me what was going on. To my utter surprise, I realized I was in a hospital. 

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“Don’t touch me, you freak. Nothing is happening to me. I am fine, I feel fine, and I am going to my room to rest,” I yelled and I started to reach out for the door-knob but I just couldn’t. 

I tried again, but my hand just passed through it. How? 

“What is happening to me?” I shouted, instantly freaking out. I tried catching it again but I could not touch it. I pushed the door but instead of pushing it, I passed through it and fell on the floor. 

He was immediately beside me, trying to help. 

Scared to death, I pushed him away and started to crawl backwards, hoping to get away from the scary man and also hoping to find something to rest my back on, but instead of finding something, I crossed the bars of a bed and was now almost in a drawer…I stood up shrieking and started to run everywhere in a haphazard manner when suddenly my eyes fell on a still figure on a hospital bed. 

Lying there was a lump of a woman. She was in the worst state possible, bruised everywhere and had a huge bandage on her head. Tubes stuck out from every orifice. She was breathing off a life support system… She was barely alive. She was me. 

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A wonderful story of how the spirits of a guy and a girl met in hospital during an out-of-body experience.

I'm In Love With A Spirit

"How many girls has he gone out with?" 


"One hundred and twelve," Armaan answered, embarrassed. 


"What?" I asked awestruck; thank God his father thought I was talking to him. 


"That is quite a personal question to ask a stranger," I evaded. 


"I already know; I told you I always kept tabs on my son." 


"Err. A hundred and twelve," I finally answered, embarrassed for him. 


"Ninety-six," Armaan answered, refusing to meet my eye. 


"I know it's embarrassing, but tell me the number," his father insisted. 


"Ninety-six, but why am I being asked such degrading questions?" 


"You were this close to him, but these figures never bothered you?" he had the most inquisitive look on his face. 


"I was just a friend, sir. And friends don't judge or control." 


Despite my best efforts to sound calm, the despair in my voice was audible. 


"Why do I not know about the two of you? Where did you meet? How did you communicate?" 


Armaan ordered me to keep quiet, and I said, "With all due respect, Mr. Oberoi, I am not comfortable revealing that to you." 


Was it just a trick of light or did I sense admiration for my guts in his eyes? 


"So, do you really like him?" Armaan stared hard at me for an answer, and I replied with the truth. 


"You have no idea how much he means to me." 


Before either of them could dwell for too long on that answer, I hurriedly changed the topic. "How is his mother doing?" 


His expression immediately changed. "Not good really; she is in a lot of pain." 


"Ask him not to mention you to her," Armaan requested. 


Clueless about the reason, I repeated the request. 


"I know why you are asking that; I want to tell her but I can't. Apart from the obvious reasons, she gets very depressed when someone mentions him. I want to take her out of here but we can't leave him alone." 


"Sir I know you don't know me that well but you can leave him with me," I spoke earnestly, "I will take excellent care of him." 


He smiled at my expression, but I still glimpsed a sharp glitter of tears. 


"I understand, but he is my son. I can't. I just can't." 


"It's alright, child. I was the one who challenged your association with him. Come, let us get that interview done with."


You Have No Idea How Much He Means To Me