The Haunting of Keith Kogane

Chapter 4: Calling Shiro

The cold wasn't always a bad thing. Often, it would make even the thinnest of blankets feel like a warm embrace; gentle hands soothing the chills on one's body.

Softness. Comfort. Silence. The preludes to one's slumber, uninterrupted, and leaving one's soul free to wander. And the smell of lavender, always a calming harbinger of fantasies and memories ...

Lilies. Their familiar strong aroma was the emissary of less pleasant thoughts, and they in turn were the ambassadors of sorrow.

A soft tune of woe was carried across towards sleeping ears. The moan was like a whisper in the wind. But it couldn't be, for Shiro knew that he was alone. It was the wail that followed which prompted him to open his eyes. Somewhere in his waking mind he tried to process the sound, but he was thrown off by the darkness in the room. Neither did he remember laying on a bed or going to sleep at all.

A sob pulled his attention again. Young, frail, that of a young child's.

"Katie?" He called out, confused by the use of the name since he rarely used his surrogate sister's given name. It had been years since he had last called her that. However, the more stranger thing was how he didn't recognize his own voice for a moment. It wasn't deep like it was supposed to be. He touched his throat as if he could blame it on having a cold, but he had no time to think about it when the door beckoned him to come. Something was calling him, voiceless but it squeezed his chest with a strong grip. It wasn't Katie, he realized.

A puppeteer controlling him from the shadows was a more apt description because, when did he get off the bed? And when had he walked to the door?

Shiro became wary then, he felt like he should've known what was going on, but felt disoriented, out of place; his puzzled look staring back at him from the opaque, stretched reflection on the silvery door knob. His face was rounder, eyes bigger and level with the handle, jet black hair tousled from getting out of a messy bed.

The grip in his chest was getting tighter beckoning him to reach out and open the door. So he did. He did even when he knew would be welcomed by shadows. He wasn't going to let fear conquer him, he had to find whatever was asking him to help.

"Hello?" His voice was so strange even to his own ears. But walking down such eerie hallway required focus or he could get lost to the dark.

The charm around his neck helped to keep him grounded, to gain more control over himself. He reached up to grab it. Standing by the room door he took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deep. One stroke, two strokes, the smooth texture of his quartz helped to quell the desperation wanting to control him.

Patience. Yields. Focus.

He released his breath, the smothering energy cleansed. Only then he could think straight, only then did his body actually listened to his will and not that of an unseen force. He chose to move on his own terms, so he walked.

Silence crept steadily beside him, he swore that if he listened closer, he could actually hear the whisper of his name. It was the same voice as before: soft, small, vulnerable ... frightened.

Shiro. Shiro help me. Please... It said.

Walls loomed over him like they hadn't for years, imposing fear and uncertainty. They stretched higher than any light could follow, wallowing in the pitch darkness above. But still he padded barefoot towards the white door at the end of the hall. It stood out like a phantom in the dark; sharp white, hazy like fog.

Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump

The pounding of his heart like thunderous drums in his ears. The more Shiro wanted to get to the door, to find that call for help, the more he felt like he was being weighed down. He was reluctant, he soon realized.