To Exist

Ella was thirteen the first time someone told her she did not exist. It was an odd comment delivered at an odd time.

"I was looking through the yearbook with my mom last night and she pointed at your picture and said 'This girl does not exist.' Weird huh?" Said Ryan as they crossed paths on the way to math.

"What? What did she mean?" Ella paused, trying to read Ryan's expression to see if he was teasing her.

"I don't know, she didn't say" He replied. "What do you think it means?"

"Uh. That I'm a ghost? I've been found out. Oh dear."

Ryan squinted at Ella. She had a talent for deadpan statements that made her hard to read. But of course, she couldn't really be a ghost.

Alyssa spared them both from further comment by taking Ella's arm and pulling her away. "Cool Ryan, see you tomorrow in History." she called as she led Ella to the Math hall.

Ella followed and wondered at Ryan's news. What an odd thing to say. What could the conversation have been that led up to this woman looking at her photo and deciding to refute her existence? But the day soon offered distraction in the form of Alyssa's romantic woes and Ella thought on it no more.

Years later, as she settled into her favorite study space at the University cafe, the memory came back to her. Strangely, she had received a few similar comments since. Strangers yelling from cars and offhand comments from new acquaintances at parties; but no memory was as clear as that first. She sat and felt the chill of the cold concrete bench soak through her jeans. The wind rustled the pages of the textbook open in front of her and the bows of the large pines that dotted the pathway leading to the cafe. The calm of moments like this always made her mind wander.

"Excuse me?" A male voice interrupted the silence.

Ella opened her eyes and glanced around. A man, perhaps in his 40s or 50s, sat a table away and was watching her. He was dressed well in a grey tailored suit and his face was handsomely framed by a neat, dark beard. Ella could only assume he was a professor here at the University.

He noticed her glance over and quickly followed up, "Excuse me miss, I was wondering if I may ask where you are from. Are you Spanish by chance?"

Ella's confusion melted into mild embarrassment. "Oh, uh, no. I'm from here. California I mean. I grew up a couple hours south of here, actually."

"Oh, really? Apologies. I normally have a knack for telling where students are from. I felt for sure I had guessed you correctly. I'm actually quite surprised you are American, you don't seem from around here."

Ella stared. She wanted to ask what he meant by that but could not think of a polite way to phrase the question.

"Well apologies for bothering you miss. My name is Atul," He pulled out a small card and handed it to her. "Here is my card. I run a small newsprint and collect student stories from time to time. Please feel free to reach out if you are ever interested in chatting."

Ella took the card and thanked him.

"Of course, of course. Now, I must be off to make my next lecture in time but it was wonderful meeting you, miss. Have a good day." He deftly swept his notebook from the table and into a shoulder bag, tilted his head in farewell, and exited the cafe patio.

Ella scanned Atul's contact card and wondered if she should write him an email. A chance to share a story seemed right up her ally, and maybe someone like this, who collected stories and seemed bright of mind, could have insights she could learn from.

But who was she, to ask anything from a stranger. And what could she offer in return? A story? She had no stories of her own. Ella let out a breath and tucked the card into a backpack pocket. She turned back to her textbook and began the statistics problem set she'd been avoiding. In a few weeks, Atul's card disappeared. Likely lost at some point in the constant shuffle of papers. A small loss compared to what was to come.

Isabella Murphy, or Ella, as she was called by most, was one of a few thousands poor souls who developed complications from the year's flue and passed away. At twenty, she had no history of illness or reason to worry over catching this bug. And yet, after a second night of feverish sleep, Ella did not wake up.

Ella had the strangest dreams, that last evening of her life.

She floated through landscapes real and fictional. She was a cloud passing between the snowy peaks of a towering mountain range, the cold air turning her very essence to ice.

She was a bird soaring over an endless expanse of glittering ocean. The sun's reflection burning hot across her body. She was herself, watching the moments of her life blur by and leave her in darkness.

A voice, soft as a summer stream burbling, spoke to her in the stillness.

"Is this your choice, little one? To be a ghost of your own life?"

"I don't know what you mean," spoke dream Ella.

"Again and again we have offered you the opportunity to take center stage of your life, but you refuse to live your own story. You have chosen, every time, to bury yourself in someone else's story instead."

Dream Ella remained silent. What was there to say.

"We tried to reach you. To show you. To give you a chance to claim life for your own. But if you are not ready, you can return."

Ella was a leaf trembling on a breeze. The wind lifted, and she shook loose of the branch that held her, spiraling down and coming to rest on the surface of a river. She would rest here for now, and see where the river led.

Ella did not wake up.

A few hundred miles away, Juliet Green awoke to the sound of knocking at her bedroom door.

"Julie? How are you doing? Feeling any better?" Came the voice of her roommate, Spriha.

Julie yawned and stretched. She felt great, better than she could remember feeling in years, in fact.

"Spriha! Good Morning! I feel fantastic. Actually, do you want to come with me to that campus concert this afternoon? We can try to get autographs in case they become famous like Allie swears they will."

Spriha laughed. "Ya, that sounds fun! I'll see if Allie is free to join us too. She'll love the idea."

"Perfect! I'll text you when I'm ready to go."

"See you soon!"

Julie went about her morning routine with cheer. She felt an energy and purpose in her movements she could not quite explain. Maybe it was just the contrast of being healthy again after such a nasty flue, or maybe it had something to do with the strange dreams she could no longer recall, but she felt different. Brighter, somehow.

Julie had a few hours before meeting up with her friends. What did she want to do with her time? Her hand instinctually went to pick up her phone but she dropped it and grabbed her notebook instead.

When was the last time she wrote for fun? As a kid, writing had been her favorite pastime. She used to write stories every day. When had she stopped? Why had it been so long since she tried returning to that joy?

She opened the notebook to a blank page and rummaged through her backpack for a decently sharp pencil. Today was as good a day as any to give it a try. A smile crept unconsciously across her face as she put pencil to paper and began.