Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

chi·me·ri·cal

/kī-ˈmer-i-kəl/
adjective
existing only as the product of unchecked imagination; highly unrealistic.

.one more chapter after this and an epilogue.

Play the music link when you see the *

It was another day of sitting in the garden for Tyler. Hunched over the splintering wooden picnic table, he picked at the loose wood.

Using his nails, he kept picking at the flecks of wood. They came up in small cracks and he flicked them away, a melancholy frown on his face.

He was just so dissatisfied with his life. He didn't have Josh, he was stuck in an institution, and his family thought he was crazy.

Cracks of thunder interrupted his train of thought. A storm was rolling in from the North, one that brought about spring and new life.

When the weather conditions showed any sign of precipitation, the nurses rounded up the patients from outside. Luckily, Minette had given Tyler the key to the garden area and he was able to stay in it without a nurse knowing he was there.

The sky had darkened considerably in a matter of minutes, the overly full clouds threatening to burst with rain above him. He didn't care. If he got soaked and died of pneumonia, at least he'd find solace in death.

Still picking away at the table, Tyler felt a sharp sting under his pointer finger's nail. Lifting his hand up to his face, he found that he had inadvertently shoved a splinter of wood between his skin and the nail.

He winced and shook his hand, the pain lessening slightly. "Fucking..." He swore under his breath.

Attempting to pull it out, the first raindrop fell on his head. More followed, and soon, he was caught in an onslaught of water pouring from the heavens.

He had learned to block out the world long ago, and went about removing the splinter. It was long, but not long enough.

He kept trying, his vision becoming clouded by raindrops dripping from his eyelashes. He shook them off and kept trying.

The splinter was right there, just beyond his grip.

Finally, success. He tore it out with another bolt of pain up his finger and arm. He held up the piece of wood and inspected it. Small, sharp, and bothersome. Now, why did it remind him of something?

Pushing the thought away, he tossed the wood over his shoulder and returned right to what he was doing before. He would never learn.

The rain continued to fall. Tyler sat in it like a plant, soaking it all up. Shivers set in across his body and he found himself shaking as he kept taking apart the table bit by bit.

"You just can't stop hurting yourself, can you?"

Tyler ignored the voice. It was soft, calm, yet could still be heard above the rain. Like someone was really there. Like Josh was really there.

"You're not real." Tyler scoffed to himself. He kept his head down, the drops of water traveling down his neck and the hill of his back. "You're not here."

"I am, Tyler. I'm back."

"No," a crack of thunder broke the sky above. "You're not."

Tyler didn't want to believe it was true. If he let himself give in, if he let his heart feel hope, he'd only be let down. He couldn't afford any more heartbreak.