𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 ➪ 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

amongst the glittering city lights,

-

I floated aimlessly, getting more accustomed to being well... A ghost. I nervously sat in an untaken seat as people filed in, I looked up to Phobus, his uncaring stance as he seemed to simply people-watch. "So your daughter..." He looked over at me, curiously as I tried to start conversation with him. "How old is she?" "Should be... Shit, twenty years old by now. Crazy how we let time pass us... She saw me last fifteen years ago." Fifteen years... And the fact she's my age or well... Would I say was my age? Since I wasn't getting older, is that how ghost age works or... Forget it. "What's her name?" "Elizabeth, you remind me of her, a lot actually. She's always been so considerate of other people, I recently got word that she moved and I wanted to see her again, after all this time..." Two questions rushed my mind at that, "how do you know something like that? How would you know she moved?" He let out a soft chuckle, "ghosts have their own ways of figuring this out, there isn't a whole lot of us but there are ways to get our information. Whole lives are watched and documented in our minds, I asked a couple of friends to keep an eye on her never know if she'll get into trouble. Stop it if she does..." "Stop it?" I questioned finding that rather curious, "you can't stop her right? We're ghosts, we phase through things, we can't say a word to the living." Even though I did say that the memory of Mamá seemingly responded to me made me sort of shudder.

"Exactly, as ghosts, we can't." He stated rather sternly, while I was curious as to where he was going with this. "But as demons, we can." I stood stunned, demons..? "D-demons?" I ushed a little in disbelief, a pang of fear tingling through me as I couldn't quite believe it. "Exactly, demons. Though it's not what you're thinking, they're not sexy like television vampires; neither are they scary men with horns and hooves. They're just..." He tried to find his words, a cold sweat seeming to appear on the edge of his hairline as if for a  moment his breath hitched too. "Lost. They're people, who lose sight of themselves and in a desperate situation can turn into those... Things. They're able to manipulate the real world, depending on how strong of a negative emotional connection they have to a thing, person or place. They become shadow-like, silhouette figures, and that's the main antagonist of every folktale and haunted house. Usually, though they burn out eventually, turn to a kind of ash and disappear. And from then on no one knows where they go..." This world I seemed to find myself in... I found it out to be so much more complex than what I could've ever imagined, and from the sounds of it, there were two ways to pass on.

Do something you've always wanted, and turn to glitter... Or do something filled with negative emotions, and turn to ash. I was moderately curious now, do you go to the same place either way? Did you go to different places...? Would bad actions done be justified with good intentions? 

"Are they dangerous?" I asked, he shook his head purely looking forward as fewer people started to board and the plane was almost completely filled. "You'll know when you see one and they're only threats to living people. As a spirit, nothing can happen to you unless you make it happen for yourself." I hummed thinking over his words carefully as the aisles cleared and the living took their seats, so happened that whoever was supposed to fill the one I hovered over didn't; the same thing applying to the seat beside me. Phobus hovered past me to take the window seat, taking a sort of leaning back position while still not phasing into the chair. "When the plane moves... Do we get left behind as it goes through us?" I questioned, while he laughed at the question. "Ghost logistics don't always make sense, technically yes it should work that way but for some reason, it doesn't. Hell, you could be dreaming this whole experience from your hospital bed." "How did you know I died in a hospital? I don't recall telling you that...-" "Look at yourself sweetheart." He held a lighthearted smile while I looked down at myself... Realizing I've been in a hospital gown this whole time.

"You wear what you die in?" I questioned, looking over the rubber duck pattern on the gown, "bingo." He spoke lazily, resting his head on his hand and seeming to get lost in his own thoughts. "So you always dressed that way or did you die on a special occasion?" I questioned, trying not to push too deep but my curiosity got the better of me as the question came out there bluntly. Thankfully he didn't seem to mind, "I always dressed nice. It was apart of the job, I travelled to every city, knew a little of every language, only fluent in one though... I had a good life, financially part of the upper ten percent, and in the first-class area, I suddenly had a heart attack and died." A small gasp escaped my lips, while he continued his story lowly. "I could've lived too if I was an actually good person, I was harassing the flight attendants and everything that day. Wasn't that I was having a bad day, it's just who I was, and it was my own private room inside of this plane too. I told her to leave the minute she brought my stuff and was being generally bratty, making sure to let her know to not come until the flight has ended. Unluckily for me, I had my heart attack maybe twenty minutes later, as I fell back on the bed I could hear people outside my room. No one came inside." As he finished the story, he didn't seem to appear very distressed or affected by it.