Ghosts Shouldn't Be This Annoying

Reminiscing and Escaping

17.      Reminiscing and Escaping

Well, it's been way too long and this chapter is too short. Ah well, have this, and I apologize for it being shorter than planned, but I have stuff actually planned for the next chapter. Heehee.

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Your name is Eridan Ampora and you think you’re unconscious. You haven’t been unconscious in years. Wow.

You’re walking along a path, although it’s all fog around you, and all you can see is the dirt path in front of you. You don’t even know where you’re going, or why you’re walking, but you just keep going.

But what would happen if you went off the path?

You pause, then look at the edge of the path. The fog is curling around it, wisps of it brushing against the edge but never going over the line. You crouch down to see if you can see under the fog, but the fog touches the ground and it’s so thick you can’t see through it.

You don’t want to go off the path and you don’t want to just stick your hand out into the fog blindly, because who knows what might happen if you do either? So instead you keep walking, but walk a bit faster.

However, as you keep walking, the path gets a bit narrower. You don’t notice it at first, but it gets noticeably harder to walk in a straight line as soon the road becomes thin enough that you have to walk with your arms tight at your sides, otherwise you’ll touch the fog.

You don’t even know why you think it’s bad to touch the fog. Man, this is weird.

Then you have to walk sideways, inching along as you spread your arms for support.

Then you have to suck in your breath to make your chest go in.

As a last attempt, you look back along the path to see if you could go backwards, but all that’s there is more fog, and the path you’ve walked is gone.

You’re trapped.

As a last attempt to save yourself, you try to crouch down and curl into a ball, but then the path disappears and you’re falling, fuck-

You land hard on some ground, and you groan, wincing. Your body aches all over, and you slowly get up, opening your eyes to your surroundings.

It’s your childhood home, before you moved to the mansion. Wow. You look around, exploring with a feeling of nostalgia. You’re in the living room, attached to the kitchen with its fancy-looking bar and hanging lights. Of course your parents could afford this expensive house, they’re your parents. It’s an open floor plan, so you can see the TV from where you are, somewhere between the living room and kitchen. The TV’s on. You can’t see who’s watching it because there’s a couch in the way. You wonder who’s watching it.

…

Maybe you don’t want to know who’s watching it.

But suddenly you can’t control your feet, and you’re walking over anyway, in front of the couch that was blocking your view.

It’s you.

More specifically, it’s you as a… were you 4? Maybe 5? A 5 year-old. You’re happily entranced in Harry Potter, clutching your fake wand to your chest and all decked out in your old wizard garb.

This was before you realized magic was fake, of course.

You admit you were pretty cute back then.

But what’s the point of this?

Suddenly, you hear yelling. 5 year-old you turns just as teenage you turns, and you see a woman stomping out of one of the nearby hallways, dragging a suitcase behind her and obviously furious.