Leonard Francis had never imagined what being dead would feel like.
He had expected to go to hell, engulfed by flames and red devils with pitchforks torturing him to no extent.
But he certainly hadn't expected to become a ghost. Ghosts were a concept made by adults to discipline children. Or had he been wrong to believe that?
"What. . .?" he had cried when he saw his body from an outsider's perspective. "What happened? Why am I there?"
He couldn't touch anything; his hands would pass through everything. He couldn't leave the room though he could walk through all the other walls.
He was trapped.
Leo waited for so long, waited for someone to discover his rotting corpse. But for what seemed like years, nobody even knocked. But then one night, footsteps were heard and keys jingled outside the room before the door opened. Leo could never forget the face of his sister as she processed his death, and then all hell broke loose.
