Life Through A Seaglass Lens

When You Disappear at Night, Where do You go? (Tommy, Ghostbur)

It was dark and bleak, but the starlight on the freshly fallen snow gave off an unearthly aura of beauty, for surely in a world that was raised in violence and hate, such soft, gentle peace could not find room to exist.

How fitting, then, that a ghost wandered there, in the lonely hills that might have reminded him of the afterlife. He once knew the feeling of snowflakes on his eyelashes, but it was foreign to him now.

He wandered the landscape, searching. Not searching for his meaning, no, but searching for the soul of the boy who slept in the small cabin far away, for while the boy was complete in his waking hours, the heart of the broken child left while he slept.

The phantom wondered why, but he could find no answers.

Discouraged, he returned to the cottage, where a small trail of smoke was the only memory left of the blazing fire that had been started before dusk. The ghost hovered near the fireplace for a moment, if only to reminisce on the heat that he used to feel, before continuing down to where he knew the boy slept.

The mop of blond hair was right where it had been left, small strands of it fluttering as the boy it belonged to exhaled, relaxed and content.

The spirit didn't know how long he sat there and watched the breathing of that boy, feeling a small tug every time that the chest expanded in a way that he'd never again experience, but it was still dark when the boy opened his eyes and turned to look at the ghost.

His soul returned, all reds and grey-ish blues that used to be so vivid, but now were tarnished and dull. Where had it been?

Ghost and boy stared at each other for a bit before one spoke up.

"When you disappear at night, where do you go?"

It took the young boy some time to answer, for he didn't truly know where he had been. He knew that he felt like he was home when he was there, though, and often wished that he would sleep just to visit that place again.

He talked, then, about it. "I always start in this field, with lots of flowers and the sun shining down on me. I always have a half-finished flower crown in my hands, and no matter how long I work on it, it never gets finished. I don't hold it much anymore, but I always feel like I should. Like I have some obligation to it.

And... There's someone next to me. I don't know who it is, because whenever I try to see, they turn away. They laugh when I do that, and it makes me happy. I just feel at ease with them, like everything that's happened suddenly hasn't anymore.

When I get up to leave, they don't follow.

What happens next varies.

Sometimes everything is a blur but a brick wall, like that's what I'm supposed to be focusing on. It doesn't happen this way much, but I like it, because I always have the feeling of a warm hug and the smell of freshly baked bread is always in the air. It's comforting.

Other times I'm in a room, and the only thing I can see is a strand of orange hair on the ground, like a pet shed it or something. I don't know what I'm holding, but I feel the weight of something in my arms and I can hear myself humming a nursery rhyme. I feel proud, but I don't know why.

Most rarely I see a bright light source that's covered by a black... something, I don't know what. I'm in this grey tunnel, I don't know why, and before anything else can happen, it cuts out and I wake up. I always wake up feeling anxious, but when I'm there I feel excited, almost.

My favorite, though, might be when I walk past a tall step and a short doorway that I have to lean down to get through. There's always a metallic smell, but the colorful bubbles in the air make up for it. There's a red beanie on a table too," The boy faltered for a moment. "Kind of like yours."

The ghost tilted his head. "Are they memories, or just dreams?"

He knew immediately that he'd said something wrong, because the boy turned away and tried to hide his sniffles.

"That's the thing. I don't know. I never do."

Hurriedly, the ghost tried to comfort the child. "It sounds like a nice place, though. Do those places exist?"

The blond shook his head, "I used to think so, but I don't think it ever did. They're just stupid dreams that don't mean anything."

The ghost felt a faint tug in his heart, but could do nothing except bring the boy to watch the sunrise with him. They'd do this often, it made them feel like nothing had changed, and they were still the same brothers they had been a while ago.

The colors seeped across the horizon as the pair sat in silence, the cold wiggling its way through the thin layers that they both wore, but the ghost didn't mind. It was one of the only things he could actually feel.

As they watched the sun come into view, the ghost said, "I think it's very heroic of you, doing all that you do. I think everyone would be proud of you, if they knew."

It took a moment to get a response, but it came. "That's the thing, though. I'm not. I'm no brave hero, I'm not some exciting myth, I'm just some sad, fucked up kid."

The ghost looked over, and the boy stood up. His eyes were glistening with the tears that he'd never allowed himself to have, but maybe just this once, he'd let them fall.

***

fundy next, then i think ranboo (sorry abt the language in this one)