I sat straight up in an instant bead like drops of sweat dripping from my forehead. It was seven am. A knock on my bedroom door like every other morning followed by “Candy, get a move on it” was my dad, signaling me to get up. A Monday morning, the worst morning of the week but even more so today I had to give a speech in my English class.
The bell rang for sixth period speech time. I walked into to class Mrs. Harp-Sligh greeting everyone as they walked past. I sat at my seat, as my palms began to sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. I swallowed hard knowing I was fist up. She decided to go by Alphabetical order and my last name comes first. I stepped up to the front of the class breathing heavily. My long burgundy hair weighing my body down like never before. “Mac…Macbeth…kill…killed” I began nervously. “Duncan…because….” My focus was lost as I zeroed in on an older looking women with long gray hair in the back of the class. She began to weep. She cried out louder and louder. My body began to relax, and then it went completely limp falling to the ground. I heard another student scream as my eyes fluttered shut.
I awoke outside of my body, the gray haired women now stood next to me, she said nothing as everyone gathered round. Mrs. Harp-Sligh was on the phone with 911 tears pricking her eyes. I looked over at the women studying her features, that’s when it hit me. I WAS DEAD. She was what my grand parents would tell me story’s of. It made since being Irish and all, tears no matter how hard I tried would not form in my spirit like eyes. She was a Banshee!