Where the Shadows are Heavy (Bastille)

CHAPTER 16

"Are you sure that you can talk to ghosts? This just seems like a big scam to me." Huffed his current customer, not different from the usual.

An unfamiliar ghostly relative was sulking in a corner.

"Daffodils. That's just rubbing salt in the fucking wound. She knows I hate yellow." The ghost hissed back.

It had been six months.

Dan just stared straight ahead at nothing as both his client and the ghost argued with each other. Well the woman argued, and the ghost argued back, but seeing as she couldn't see or hear her dead friend, it was rather one sided.

He could still feel the weight on his chest. The cooling corpse of Barnes pressing down on his lungs. He'd bleed all over him so that Dan too looked like his chest had a bullet hole in it. But it didn't. He felt the panic quickly settle in and tried to pull himself back, but the weight on top of him was too much.

He could hear the shifting of sand beneath feet as the other living people began to move. Blindly he shot towards them too, realising too late, that one of the three was someone he wanted to avoid hitting.

There were no more sounds as he stared up into the sky. The sea hissed as the water was dragged back across the sand.

Dan released his grip on the gun, his knuckles had turned white rom the strain. He knocked it away so he couldn't feel it anymore. Mouth open as he lay on his back, not daring to look anywhere but into the blue and white above him.

Dan shook his head.

His nearest client was pulling back in her chair. It screeched and dented the floor as she pushed herself away from the table and stood.

He blinked a few times, knowing that his mouth was still hanging open. She pulled a scowl and left.

Dan didn't cry. He felt empty, drained, and there was nothing, but he didn't cry. He could go home, and yet he lay shivering. The sand against his back warm. It scratched at his skin, caught in his clothes, and filtered through his hair, but it cushioned him too. A comfortable bed he could stay in.

Some time had passed before he gained the energy to finally roll the now cold and hardening corpse off of him. He sat himself up, taking in the bodies scattered on the sand.

Not one of them was gasping desperately, trying to stubbornly live, even though he wished they would. He couldn't see any of their ghosts either. In fact, he turned to confirm it. He could only see Will. His friend had stayed silent and was now watching him mournfully. No words were said, and Dan didn't know whether he had any left inside him anyway.

The shock had somewhat worn off, and now guilt dragged him back to his knees in the sand. His lip shook, but he wouldn't cry. He wiped a hand over his face, pausing as he felt the stickiness of blood smear across his skin.

The door slammed shut loudly. It shook in its frame. Dan could still hear the woman stomping away. The ghost n the corner of the room said nothing. It didn't even fix its sour look on Dan, instead directing it to where the woman had been minutes before. The ghost vanished.

Not in a poof of smoke like a magic trick, it didn't even flicker in and out a few times like a broken light either, it was just there one second, and not there the next.

He was left alone again once more.

With shaking legs and trembling hands, he had risen once more. His feet dragging lines in the sand as he headed for the small copse of trees. Ahead of him on the path was the first time he spotted Kyle. The ghost hadn't completely vanished, but he was close. At the right angle, when the sunlight caught in just the right way, then Dan could see him. He could just about make out the tilt of a head, the questioning gaze, the feet never quite touching the ground, instead hovering an inch or two above the leaves.