Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

red·o·lence

\ˈre-də-lən(t)s\
noun
suggestive; reminiscent

Joshua couldn't sleep for two reasons that night. One: Tyler couldn't sleep either, and two: the reunion with his family kept him from even thinking about powering down his brain and getting a good night's sleep.

The entire time he saw them, he was trying to remember what they each smelled like. Being ghosts, they had no scent, but not if Joshua could help it.

His father smelled like pine wood and macaroni and cheese, surprisingly. His mother smelled of her plants, like dirt and sometimes her fertilizer.

Ashley and Abigail smelled almost exactly the same, as they shared every perfume they ever bought. He last remembered their fruity one; pomegranate and kiwi? He could barely envision the pink and white bottle.

And Jordan constantly smelled of balsa wood and glue. He loved model planes, trains, cars, you name it. Before the house had been cleaned out, the shelves were lined with every make and model imaginable of vehicles.

They were crumpled to bits and tossed in trash bags.

Joshua was looking out of the window again. Tyler was painting on the wall to release the stress of running from the delinquents the night before.

"What are you doing in here?" One of the boys spat. Before Tyler could make an excuse, the boy smashed the half empty beer bottle against the counter, only shattering half of it.

He raised it to Tyler, brandishing it threateningly.

Fear filled Tyler's heart as the other teenagers filed up behind the thug.

"I-I..."

"Let's skin the bitch!" A teen girl whooped. She had her own bottle, but didn't break it.

Tyler had nothing else to do but run. Whatever was holding him before let go and he sprinted towards the front door.

Joshua had no idea what was going on; he was upstairs with his family.

Bursting through the door after hastily unlocking it, Tyler knew he couldn't go straight home. They would just follow him.

So he ran down the street and made sure to lose himself in the thick fog of trick or treaters and their parents.

He could still hear their frightening shouts. Drunk and violent, they went down the street right after him. When they couldn't find him, they gave up and went home.

"Stupid teenagers." Tyler muttered to himself.

Joshua, surprised by the sudden words, looked over at him. He didn't know what happened to him while he was upstairs and didn't want to find out. He couldn't stand any more sad happenings.

Sighing wistfully at Tyler, Joshua sat down next to the boy. Tyler was still standing and painting, shuffling around the cans of paint and the sheets of lyrics. He had planned out what he was going to write and where.

The planes...how do I get to one? Joshua wondered to himself. Do I just wish to be there?

With how crazy everything already is, something as crazy as that could surely be possible.

So he closed his eyes and tried to picture himself in a different plane.

When he opened them, he wasn't in Tyler's bedroom anymore. He was in a hallway illuminated by string lights, with a small staircase leading down further into the hall.