𝙙𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: -goddesstier 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛: 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘, the lost boys 1987
❝ '𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦.' ❞
SANTA CARLA HAS BECOME more of a popular tourist destination since the 1980's, despite it still being known locally as the 'Murder Capital of the World,' given the amount of people that have either gone missing or ended up dead. Or gone missing only to end up washing up on the beach already beginning to decay. Lena believes that they even found a man rotting away in his car at the bottom of the bluffs one year, the reports saying his throat had been pretty much ripped out before he was dumped.
The boardwalk is still alive with humans every night, screaming and cursing as they're thrown about by the rattling rides, feeling as though they're to go flying off into the night. It's a feeding ground for those who live in the night; a source of food for any nomad passing through, and a constant stream of fresh blood for the coven whose territory the boardwalk resides on. For all their carnage, they're known amongst the night dwellers as the most malicious and destructive, and they are also rumoured to have the oldest creature in existence within their ranks.
Leaning against the railing of the boardwalk, Lena sighs out stale air, making fog appear before her eyes, a small smile twitching along her lips. "When's Michael going to be back? It's so fucking boring without our beautiful boy, David."
The bleach-blond beside her chuckles, scratching the back of his neck and sighing when he recalls the absence of his long hair, now cut short to stick with the changing times once more. "Michael's going to be home before you know it, doll. He could be back tonight, or maybe even next week. You know how much his mother hates it when he's not there long enough — and when he's away from her for too long."
"I told him he should have never gone back in the first place. We cannot exist within a human's life without hurting them."
"He'll be fine. Don't you worry."
The carousel bell rings, piercing through the night's screams of delight and the chatter of the humans aboard the ride, signalling the beginning of the ride once again. The hunk of metal begins to grind, spinning in circles that grow faster by the second, the lights flash, and the horses rise and fall as the machinery does its job, creating joyous laughter from all aboard the favourite ride of humanity.
Ghosts appear between the people, clothed in patchwork punk-look clothes with wild hair, and with careless grins stretched wide on their faces.
An almost white-haired ghost stands between two horses, clad in a knee-length black coat that has most certainly seen better days, his gloved hands rising and falling with the horses as he looks around for a moment before moving forward.
The dark-haired ghost behind him, wearing a leather jacket that looks as though it's been patched up with possibly leopard print material several times, latches onto a horse and yanks it towards his body, swinging around it with glee. His hair flies out behind him as he does so, the loose straps of his bracelets flinging out with the momentum as he follows the first ghost.
Behind him walks another ghost boy, this one with wild blond hair many shared in the 80's, and he slaps his hand against one of the metal horses. His mouth opens in what could very well be a cheer or a greeting, and many eyes would stare at the young ghost — if not for his undoubtedly loud voice, or even his hair, then for the fishnet shirt he's wearing without a single shred of regret or embarrassment.
Bringing up the rear is a younger blond, his hair in short curls at the top of his head but longer segments of hair curling down his back, fingerless gloves adorning his hands and his patchwork jacket reflecting light on the pins placed chaotically over the material. His eyes linger on the blond ghost ahead of him, a strange look in said eyes, and it would make many wonder what the relationship was — not that any would bother to ask, opting to make judgements instead.
A fifth ghost appears on the carousel; a girl in neon purple fishnet stockings, a pair of black denim shorts covered in an assortment of rips and patches, well-worn Doc Martens, and a white The Rolling Stones t-shirt with many rips. Over the shirt she wears a patchwork leather jacket similar to that of the dark-haired ghost, this one looking to be patched with skull patterned material.
The four male ghosts interact with the girl — all different, but also in similar ways.
The first ghost smirks and spins the girl around around, bumping their foreheads gently together before releasing the girl from his hold and strolling amongst the painted iron horses. The fourth ghost bumps his fist against the girl's as he passes, the third taking hold of said hand and twirling the girl before handing her off to the second ghost, who raises the hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles before following after his ghost brothers.
Out of nowhere a sixth ghost arrives on the carousel, his curly brown hair wild atop his head and a wild smile making his face light up. He almost skips over to the fifth ghost, the girl, and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into a hug as he spins around. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and she laughs, pressing their foreheads together for a moment as he places her back on the ground before hurrying after the other four ghost boys.
"Come home to me," the girl ghost murmurs as she watches her Lost Boys disappear into the crowd, hands clutched above her heart as tears accumulate in her dark brown eyes. "Promise me you'll all come home."
A voice calls out Lena's and David's names, drawing her attention away from the ghosts of the carousel, and a smile stretches her lips wide. Unable to fight back the squeal that leaves her, Lena's boots collide harshly with the boardwalk as she runs into Michael's waiting arms, clinging to his broad shoulders and hoping that he never leaves her and David for as long as he did this time. Changing tactics a moment later, Lena slightly pulls back from the hug and places her hands on the sides of his face, pressing their foreheads together as tears burn her eyes.
David hurries over to the pair, a wild grin on his lips, and Michael removes one arm from around Lena to pull the bleach-blond into the hug. The older of the boys presses his forehead against Lena's and Michael's, uncaring of the stares they are no doubt getting right now, and Lena feels like she is home again; like she has once again become whole with her boys by her side.
![CRY LITTLE SISTER, the lost boys [book 02] ✓](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/288610976-64-k503017.jpg)