It was supposed to be like any other interview but everything felt different. Nothing looked out of place in the man’s apartment and he seemed friendly enough.
“Tell me about the first time that you noticed you were different.” she stated, picking up her notebook.
“When I was little and my mom couldn’t see them.”
Cassandra wrote notes as he spoke.
“Not all of them know they are dead…” the man said before taking a sip of coffee, “but eventually they see.”
Cassandra dropped her pencil and looked at her hands. They were covered in blood.
“Eventually they see…”
Writing In The Deep 