There was a white flash and then darkness. I couldn't see. Was I blind? I didn't feel anything. Like I was empty on the inside. Where was I? That question was like an echo in my mind. Followed with a hundred more. Was I lying? Was I sitting? Was I sleeping? I couldn't hear anything? I was deaf. I only heard myself asking questions. Over and over again. What happened to my world? It felt so fast. So quick. I lived in a world of complete darkness. I felt nothing. Like my insides were empty. Then, I felt myself breathing. Not breathing. Suffocating. I couldn't breath. I felt pain strike through my body. I heard laughter, and shouts. I sat up automatically. Held my hands to my chest. Trying to stop the suffocation, but there was no need. I started to breath. I opened my eyes.
   I saw a beautiful world all around me. I saw a beautiful couple sitting on a blanket, having a picnic. Out in the field I saw children throwing a yellow frisbee, and blowing soap bubbles. Another couple, older than the other, we're walking down the stone path. I heard a scream. I turned around and saw a small boy holding a frog in front of a small girl. The girl ran, and the boy chased her. Wait, I know this place. I've been here before. I'm in Central Park. My father used to bring me here when I was a kid.
   Wait, why hasn't anyone noticed me? I have been lying here and no one noticed.
  I stood up, took a step, and fell to the ground. I couldn't feel my legs. I stood up again and I started to walk. One step after another. While watching myself step, I was shocked at the look of my jeans. They were torn and covered in blood. Was it my blood? Instead of a white shirt it was red. My sweater was torn and my black sneakers had red dots. What's with the red? Why hasn't anyone noticed? I'm wasn't sure, but I kept walking. I walked out of the park and onto the street. I walked out onto the street and a car was coming straight at me. I ran to the other side before getting myself hit.
   Talk about manners, I thought.
  I walked on the sidewalk with the rest of the New Yorkers like it was hours. Then, I saw her. She was in her business suite, blond, and talking on the phone. Her suitcase was on the ground. I walked up to her. She hung up and stood there impatiently.
   "Excuse me," I said. "Do you know where I am? Can I use your phone to call my parents?"
  She turned to face me, smiled, and said "Hey!" I heard a voice behind me answer. I saw a brunette in a white shirt and jeans, heading in our direction.
   "Wait can I-", I gasped. The women walked through me and I felt nothing. I looked back, but the women walked away. I ran through the crowd of people. Reaching the end of the sidewalk when I saw it. There was a dent in the lamppost. Lying against the lamppost was a cross covered in flowers. In the middle of the cross was a sign, with my name on it. God Bless you Nathan Kress.  Death at sixteen years of age. It can't be. I can't be dead.
   Two men walked up to the post. One was taller than the other. "Pour kid. He was just sixteen," said the taller man with the deep voice.
   "May God bless you Nathan. May God bless you," said the shorter man. The taller man looked at his watch, nudged his companion, and they both walked away.
   I can't be dead. I can't. Am I a ghost? Am I truly dead?
  That night, I sat in front of a store, like I was a homeless person. I just sat there and watched as people passed by. I tried to fall asleep but I couldn't. Ghosts can't sleep. I watched the stars move as the hours passed by. I listened to the honking of the cars, sirens signaling an accident, and the laughter of the living. The next morning I wandered the streets. What do dead people do? Watch the living. I watched as children crossed the street to get to school, people getting to work. I watched, I watched, I watched. Towards the night, I found a nice place to sit, and watched the city shine in the dark. When the streets grew empty, I decided that I couldn't sit any longer. I walked the streets until daylight. People started to walk and the cars created traffic again.
  Down the street I have noticed a Volvo parked by the flower shop. The car looked like the exact version to the one my uncle owns. Out of the shop came a women dressed in black, with a bouquet of flowers. She was a redhead and her lip was quivering. I know one person in my family who's lip quivers when she's crying. That women was my aunt Lucie. Right behind was my uncle Robert in a black suite. He was never a big fan of tuxedos. They opened the doors to car and sat down. I went through the door and sat in the back seat.
  "Why do I have to wear this? I don't like tuxe-", my uncle was nudged hard in the ribs by my sobbing aunt.
   "Do you have any respect?! Your nephew is dead!"
   "You think that I don't feel anything? I miss him as much as you do. He would understand how much I hate tuxedos." Of course I understand. My uncle is the boss of a construction business. He never wears tuxedos. My uncle started the engine and we drove off. We drove to Saint Raymond's Cemetery. Up ahead was a group of people dressed in black standing over a grave. My grave. I saw my mother weeping in my father's arms. What have I done for them to feel so much pain?
   The ceremony began when all guests have arrived. I stood in the far back of the crowd. Far away for me not to see my grave or my parents. I watched and listened to the entire ceremony. So much pain for one death. I didn't want to listen to this anymore. I wanted to go away somewhere far away from this place. But I didn't have the courage to move. From the corner of my eye I saw someone coming towards me. He was a brunette with long hair and a beard. He wore a long white robe that reached the ground. He put His hand on my shoulder and I knew who He was. He had holes in His hands and feet. Only one person has those wounds. It was Him, it was truly Him.
   It was Jesus Christ Himself.
   "Am I dead?", I asked.
   "What do you think?", He asked.
   "I think I'm dead, but I don't know why," I answered.
   "I can't answer that question for you, Nathan."
   "Don't You know how I died?" I knew that He knew how I died, but He didn't want to tell me.
   After a long pause He said, "People are born everyday and take the place of the dead. The dead don't remember their deaths. They must find out for themselves. There are more dead than the living."
   "And I'll be added to them." Silence. After a minute I said, "If I'm dead, why ain't I in Heaven?"
   "Nathan," He started. "I want you to decide." If I'm dead than why ain't I in Heaven? Why am I here on earth walking among the living when I'm dead? 'Cause I'm not dead nor alive. I'm in between the living and the dead. My body shows that I'm dead. My ghost shows that I'm alive. People don't see me because I'm not dead nor alive. I'm in between.
  "I find so many people die at your age. Their life wasted. Never will experience adultly hood. What are you feeling now?"
   "Pain,  depression."
   "Would you do anything for a second life?"
   "Anything," I answered.
   He let go of me, smiled and told me, "Take care of your family."
   "Watch them live?" I asked and turned around to face Him. The world around me disappeared. Everything turned white. I saw Him walking away from me.
   "Wait, what am I supposed to do?" I asked.
   He turned around to face me. "Live life to the fullest." He started walking away and He disappeared into the white world. I was alone in complete whiteness.
    "Wait. What should I do? Hello?"

    I woke suffocating. My lungs were hungry for air. I lay there on cold surface trying to breath. After I regained my breath, I sat up. The earth was covered with graves. Surprisingly I was lying on one. I stood up. I tripped but regained my balance. I stood in front of the grave. Our loving son, Nathan Kress. Rest in peace. It wrote. I wore the same bloody shirt and torn sweater and jeans. Dried blood. It was spring. There were flowers and green leaves growing on trees. It was dark, I was surprised to see the writing on my grave. I felt the wind blowing. Am I alive? I walked past the other graves to the exit of the cemetery. At the exit there was a street. No cars were driving. I started to cross when I saw a light shining me blind. I heard a screech. In just a second everything turned dark and I couldn't feel anything.

o o o o o o o
(The following is told from the narrator's perspective)

   "How are you feeling, son?" asked a police officer sitting behind a desk. A boy was sitting in a chair in front of the officer, holding an ice pack to his forehead. The boy had short brown hair and his clothes were covered in dry blood. The boy winced. He did not answer the question.
   After a minute the boy tried to speak, "My name .... I....feel...."
   "You can trust me." The officer's skin was dark and his badge read Officer George Richards.
   The boy stared straight into the officer's eyes, unable to trust him. Afraid of telling him his name. The boy nodded and answered, "My name is Nathan Kress." Nathan still held the ice pack to his forehead.
  "Nathan, I apologize for what happened last night. I didn't see you come out. How are you feeling?"
   "My head hurts." Nathan put his hand to the cut on his forehead.
   "Do you want me to call the hospital?"
   "No, I'm fine," an officer walked into the office. He had brown hair and light skin.
   "Richards, are you busy?"
   "Indeed I am," answered the officer, holding out his hand to the boy sitting in front of him. The standing officer looked from the boy to the officer.
   "What happened to him?"
   "I was this close to running over him."
   "Is he lost?"
   "Not sure."  The standing officer with the name of Officer Stanley Johnson looked at the shirt. The sweater was zipped up three fourths of the way to cover up the stains. A piece of red was sticking out of the hem of the white shirt. Nathan saw the officer stare and he zipped the sweater completely.
   "Where did you find him?" asked the officer.
  "By the cemetery. He came out on the street half conscious. Anyway, why did you come here?"
   Officer Johnson didn't take his eyes off of Nathan. "I'll come back when you return the boy to his parents." The officer walked out of the office. The office was surrounded by windows and in the middle of it was the desk.
   "Tell me boy, how old are you?", the officer asked turning his attention to the boy.
   "I'm sixteen," answered Nathan.
   "Sixteen," George repeated. "Where do you live?"
   "Deerfield."
   "Not so far from New York City. Let's take a trip, shall we?" The officer stood up and headed for the door. Nathan followed the officer outside to the car. The morning was beautiful, with not a single cloud in the sky. Vehicles were driving and honking and the people were chattering. City noise. Nathan sat in the front seat next to the officer. The officer started the engine and they drove off. They have been driving until they reached Deerfield. Children played on sidewalks and not so many cars drove by.
   "What street do you live on?"
   Nathan looked out the window, "Turn right." The officer did as he was told. "Left." Nathan gave directions, not wanting to tell the street name. They have reached one long street and at the end of it was a light brown house.
   Before the officer turned onto another street, Nathan said, "Stop!" The officer stopped in front of the light brown house, that had chairs on the porch. To the side was a tree with a swing attached to it. The inside of the house was dark, empty.
   "You live here?" Nathan nodded. "I'll be right back. Stay here." Nathan sat there watching as the police officer walked up to the front porch and pressed the doorbell. No one answered. The officer pressed the doorbell once more, but yet no one answered. He returned to the vehicle and asked, "Do you know where your parents are now?"
   Nathan thought a moment. "What's the date?"
   "April 14, 2015. It's a Tuesday."
   "Time?"
   "11:43 a.m." The officer looked at the boy more carefully. "You know where they are, don't you?" Nathan nodded.
   "My dad is a teacher, and my mom is a doctor. My dad works at Thomas R. Proctor High School-"
   "Is that where you go?"
   "Yes."
   "Let's pay a visit to your father. If your mother works at a hospital it's best not to distract her." The officer started the engine and drove towards the high school. When they reached the parking lot, Nathan swallowed hard. "Are you afraid?"
   "No," Nathan said, stepping out of the car. The police officer followed the boy to the entrance and into the main office.
   "Wait here," said the officer pointing his finger at the chairs. The boy sat down and Officer Richards walked up to a desk and behind it was a women organizing hand fulls of paper. "Excuse me, I'm here to speak with the principal of the school."
  The women looked up, and said, "Follow me." She lead the officer past offices towards an office behind a glass wall. She opened the door and said, "Mr. Brown, you have a visitor." She left the door open and left. Behind the desk sat a tall slender man with brown hair and eyes. He stood up and held out his hand towards the officer.
   "My name is Herald Brown, the principal of this school. How may I help you?" The officer took his hand and shook it.
   "I'm here to see Mr. Kress," the officer answered.
   "Mr. Kress is teaching right now, but what's the issue?"
   "Has his son Nathan Kress disappear?"
   "Nathan? Nathan Kress. Disappear? You must be mistaken. His son, Nathan Kress, is dead."
   "Dead?"
   "Yes, dead. Nathan died three years ago in a car accident. Poor kid. He was such a nice kid." Three days, three years.
   "If Nathan is dead, then who's the kid that's with me now?" Before the principal was able to reply, Nathan stepped into the office. The principal stumbled backwards, shocked at the sight of his dead former student.
   "Nathan?", asked Mr. Brown.
   "Hello, principal Brown. Is your son feeling any better from the flu?"
   Stunned, he answered, "Yes, he's feeling a lot better. Emma, will you come in here? The women that sat behind the desk walked into the office. "Please bring Mr. Kress. There is someone he needs to see." The women looked at the boy, shocked.
   "Hello, Ms. Karen," Nathan replied.
  "Hello, Nathan," she nodded towards the principal and left the office. She walked down several hallways to a staircase. On the second floor, she passed classrooms until she reached room C204 in the middle of the hallway. She hesitated, but turned the door knob and opened the door. The walls were covered with physics posters, the desktops contained chemicals in test tubes and beakers, and teenagers sat in their desks, listening to the teacher. At the front of the room stood a tall, brown-haired man with goggles covering his eyes, demonstrating an experiment. He looked up at his audience and saw Ms. Karen standing by the door, holding the doorknob.
   "Ah, if it ain't Ms. Karen. Welcome. What may I be of service to you?"
   The women took a deep breath. "It's important. You must come and see him."
   "Can't it wait after class? I'm teach- wait, did you say him?" The entire class turned to face Emma.
   "How can I put this, Daniel. Your..... son....." The women started to sob, unable to speak.
   "Class, why won't you start on your experiment, and I will go speak with Ms. Karen." He walked out the room with her and together they stood in the hall.
   "Why are you trying to bring my son into this conversation, we both know that-"
   "Your son is alive," she blurted out.
   "What?"
   "Come." They started running down the hall together. So many memories came across Mr. Kress's mind about his son. Especially the one of his son's death. The most depressing of them all.
    Nathan sat at his desk in the room. An unorganized bed lay in the corner, and the backpack was thrown against the wall. On the door hung a dart board. The door swung open and the board fell to the ground. Nathan's father stood in the doorway, frustrated. The man starts shouting at his son. Nathan stood up, and shouted back at him. The father held his finger at his son's chest. The boy pushed his father against the wall and stalked out of the room. The man followed his son into the living room. The mother stood silently in the kitchen listening to the argument. The boy headed for the door, when his father pulled him on the shoulder. Shouts filled the room. The boy pushed his father once again and opened the front door. Nathan stormed out of the house and headed for his car. The boy started the engine when his father came out and stood on the porch, shouting. The car drove out of the parking and drove down the street. Without looking back, Nathan kept driving.
    Unsuspectedly, Nathan drove all the way to New York City. It was around ten at night, when streets started to clear. Nathan stopped at a red light. Watching as the cars drove by, he was so angry with himself. He hated his life. He wanted to get away from it as far away as possible. Only one solution came to his mind. Without hesitation, he stepped on the break and headed for the driving cars. Two cars hit the vehicle. The car hit the lamppost. One car tupled over. The other was beside Nathan's car. His vehicle had two huge dents from both sides. The front window was shattered from the extreme hit in the lamppost. The airbag did not open in time. Blood was trailing down the side of his head and dripped from his nose. Glass was in the boy's chest, leaving a huge trail of blood spreading across the white shirt and seat. A few drops of blood dripped onto the boy's sneakers. He did not move, nor blink in any manner. He was dead. The boy died. People that witnessed the accident got out of their vehicles and headed towards the car. From far away, sirens blared in the night. The world was slowly fading away, as the sirens grew louder.
    The following morning, the door to the Kresses house opened. Standing on the front porch stood two police officers, one behind the other. The police cars colorful lights shined the neighborhood. The women started to cry, hearing the news. Her husband came to her side. The man was shocked. The news were delivered. Nathan Kress was dead.
      Mr. Kress pushed those memories aside. The two of them reached the office. They walked past standing people. People stared, watched in horror.
     "This may be of shock to you," said Emma, opening the door to the director's office. Mr. Kress entered the room. His face turned white like he was seeing a ghost. His son's ghost. So shocked that he couldn't speak.
     "Nathan?" Mr. Kress stepped back. The boy turned around.
     "Dad?"