The Frisbee Ghost

The Frisbee Ghost 

by

Chris Calderon

         One day, a man named Joe was out on a bright summer day. He loved to play frisbee with Doug and their two friends. Sometimes he liked to throw from a far distance so he would back up to the road. 

He tripped while running backwards for the flying disc. 

         "Look out Joe!" His good friend Doug yelled, but it was too late. Joe was hit by a semi-truck. Joe died. 

The frisbee rested on his face. 

         "Wow, that must've hurt," said Joe looking down at his old body. He somehow didn't realize it was his. Joe was a ghost now "Oh well," said Joe as he picked up the frisbee from his old face.

         Doug watched in horror as the frisbee landed between his feet. People ran to Joe. The ambulance showed up.

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           Some time passed. Joe kept watching people in the park, especially the people playing frisbee. Joe missed his friends and family and wanted to see them again. Suddenly, someone threw a frisbee over the road. He instinctively ran to get it. To the others amazement the frisbee appeared to stop in midflight. The disc launched high back into the air and was caught by one of the three players. They all looked at each other in disbelief.

                                               

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            The next few days more and more players showed up to see 'Joe the Frisbee Ghost'. Everyone would throw their frisbees at nothing hoping they would stop in mid-air and fly back at them. Joe wondered why everyone was throwing their frisbees at him. He thought that everyone was picking on him so he stopped throwing them back and walked away. He left the park and wandered the streets of the city. He walked by the homes and buildings. The more he walked, the more he got lost. For some reason he seemed to be moving in circles, never being able to leave his town. He was sad that his friends hadn't talked to him. He felt very alone in a city full of life. Days went by and Joe seemed to forget frisbee the park.

                                                           *                      *                     *

           Days later, word had been out about Joe. Scientists, photographers, and hundreds of Joe's fans had shown up to see or not see Joe one more time. The word had spread about him.

           The crowd waited for hours and hours. Joe's old blue frisbee sat on the grass as everyone waited for him to pick it up.

                                                            *                      *                     *

           Joe yawned, he had drifted off and was lying on the thick branch of a tree. He heard a commotion in the distance. He heard mumbling, yelling, honking and clicking. "What's that all about?" Joe said to himself. He decided to get up and investigate. Hundreds of people gathered around throwing frisbees clicking pictures, talking and laughing

           Joe made it to back to the park where people were watching the frisbee.

                                                             *                      *                     *

           The frisbee started to move slightly. People shouted and gasped. Flashes went off. Doug looked to his two friends and they smiled. They knew it was Joe. The frisbee started to move again. It lifted straight up. More people gasped and even more flashes went off.

           "He wants someone to throw it too!" Said Doug as he stepped in front of the crowd.

           The frisbee moved around like a bee hovering for honey. It spun forward into Doug's hands. The crowd was yelling. A few girls screamed. Dan threw the frisbee back at Joe and it stopped in mid-air. One more time the frisbee was thrown, each time Doug threw if further and further back until Joe was by the edge of the park where he died. Suddenly a truck roared down the street. Joe stopped in front of the truck in a panic. The truck passed right threw him and frisbee flew down the street. Joe looked down at his hands and feet. They were still there or so he thought. He hadn't remembered looking at his body parts in quite a while. It was as if his body was flickering and not quite solid like in a dream. He wasn't sure if his body was quite real. He realized he had died that day with the truck. Joe felt really sad and cried to himself.

                                                               *                      *                     *

            The crowd was silent. Doug felt bad that he had thrown the frisbee too far again. He remembered that was how Joe died. He allowed it all to happen again. He went back into the crowd to be comforted by his friends. The crowd, as astonished as they were, started to go home. Soon it was just Doug and a couple of his friends. Doug stood out in the field of the park. "I'm sorry Joe. I'm so sorry."

            The frisbee began to hover above the street. It shot forward and hit Doug in the head. Surprised, he looked down at the frisbee, brushing his head. He looked back up to where Joe would be standing and smiled. He picked it up and threw it back. Again the flying plastic disc shot back at Doug, "Joe! Joe, 

I'm sorry!"

            Again Doug threw the disc and again it was returned.

            Joe was happy they were all together again. He knew that as long as they were together he would never be alone. He felt that eventually he would have to go, but not yet. He had a few more games in him.

                                                                          The End