No need for dreams

[Skylar]

The annoying scream of the alarm clock would awake the tortured soul whose face was flat upon the cool surface of the desk. Nimble fingers found the bothersome device and with a slap, silenced it. There was never really a point to the alarm, other then it made me feel more normal, more like everyone else.

I lifted my head and tossed it back, stretching as far as I could in my chair. My body popped and cracked like I was eighty, when in reality, I was only well into my twenties. Without tossing a glance, I found my smokes and lighter and swiftly took advantage. It was the way I started every morning, and I wasn’t even sure if I enjoyed it anymore, so much as it was now my routine.

Looking around my second-hand-stuff filled apartment, I thought long and hard about the things I needed to get done today. Nothing, and nothing. That should be easy enough.

You see, my last book brought in enough cash that I’m not really pressed for time to get another out, though there is more then one already ready to hit the presses. My stories don’t come from my mind, so much as from what I see. And what I see, you probably wouldn’t believe anyway.

My ashes missed the ashtray as I knocked them away, and with a quick movement, I snatched up the hair tie beside it and made easy work of pulling my long black locks into a sloppy ponytail, and then it was off to the kitchen, and she was already there.

Her work worn hands were holding tightly to the front of the sink, and her sobs were quiet, almost a whisper. An apron was always tied securely behind her back, and her long straw colored hair, so neatly in a bun. The first time I approached her, I was almost horrified that someone was in my home, until that is, I felt it.

That feeling that was as old as I could remember. The feeling that I was not the only kind of being that existed. A feeling I wish I could describe better, but my words fail me each and every time I try.

She turned to me, and I gasped. I don’t gasp any more. She’s here every morning it seems. The right side of her face, or what used to be her face, is mutilated. After our first meeting, I curiously took myself to the library and looked through some old new paper clippings.

Clara Lyn Edward, age forty-six was found dead in her home today. My home now, or at least part of it. It would seem after a night of drinking, her controlling husband came home and found dinner unfit and beat her with a meat cleaver. I assume this is the reason she lingers in my kitchen, now knowing it used to also be hers.

I always feel compelled to help them, but they don’t always want help. I do what I can, what they will let me, which doesn’t always leave me feeling fulfilled. As if it’s all about me anyway.

I grabbed my normal cup of coffee and headed back to the desk where my paper and pencil lay. Strangely enough, it’s how I feel the most comfortable writing, so much so, that my computer is in a different room of my apartment. Perhaps all of these reasons are why I feel so alone, though always surrounded by beings. It’s just the dead ones seem to understand me better.

[Skylar]

Claras story was one of many short stories in my last book. I also tossed in a story about a set of twins I saw when I was a child. Though I never could find their names, since they were so young, their story was more of a legend where I grew up. Of course, in the legend their parents were perfect and it was a tragedy for them, but in reality, their father was never around and their mother spent most of her time in a drug induced self coma.

On their fateful day they decided to leave, and since no one was more the wiser, they did so. Weeks later their tiny bodies were found only a few miles away. The elements had abused them, the wildlife indulged on them. Mother nature could be such a heartless bitch, I never understood that until I was older, and those girls were two people I was glad to stop seeing.

I tapped my pencil on my desktop, pondering nothing of importance really. Just as my cup was about to meet my lips, my phone rang. Needless to say, it scared the shit out of me, and I wore almost half that cup of coffee. “Christ........hello?” I knew who it was before I answered, not because I was psychic or anything, because, I’m not. But because, there was only one person that called met his early.

“Mornin darlin.”

“G’morning Auntie.”

“Comin over?”

“Later, more then likely.”

“I’m cookin a big lunch, be ready ‘round eleven thrityish.”

“I’ll see you then.”

With a click the conversation was over like that. Aunties’ food was the only real meal I got. Not that I couldn't cook, just didn’t make much sense for me to do so for just me. So when she offered a nice home cooked meal, I jumped all over it.

I was four the first time I saw someone. I’ll remember it until the day I die. My parents quickly dismissed it and tried to ignore it every time after, until they decided I was crazy and not fit to be around my siblings anymore. That’s when Auntie Kat stepped up. She took me in and decided my gift was one from god. If only she knew the things I saw....

Regardless, I was thankful for everything she did for me, and she, even more so then myself reaped the benefits from my fame. I prefer it simple. I don’t need much to live, and I don’t care for all the glitz and glamor. Another reason why I’m shunned I’m sure. But that’s who I am, and I refuse to ever lose my grip on my reality, if that even exists anymore.

[Zenith]

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRRRRRRR!!"

It was the noise, the only thing heard as soon as the girl had gotten off the phone and was sitting quietly, either thinking to herself or writing a memoir again -- who knew what she was doing this time, but it didn't matter to this trickster any more or less. Pallid yellow tinted hands came through the table first, upwards toward her fact with the intention of cupping those soft, cute cheeks and then a face emerged through the books and random items that were strewn across her desk. As translucent as Ive's face was, his eyes swirled like galaxies in the evening sky -- high in the mountains where the stars were as large as golf balls.

His hair was slicked back today, 50's style and he came completely through the table and sat across from her finally, after his rather loud and poltergeist-ish ways were finished. He floated, as a ghost would be thought to float -- in the air, his right knee on his left and the toe bouncing lightly. His reclined position wasn't anything unusual, minus the attire that his see-through framed donned today: a pair of tight denim jeans, cuffed at the ankle, a white snazzy undershirt, and the sleeves rolled up, as if he were expecting a beauty and her poodle skirt at any moment.

"Ali, my darling. Hope I haven't startled you.

How's Auntie doing?"

A sly grin, crossed the young-ish man's face.

[Skylar]

They never really spoke to me. I always assumed they could if they wanted to. I assume a lot of things, mainly because I have to. Some say, a spirit can’t hurt you, but I think otherwise. When they concentrate hard enough, they can move objects, I feel if they concentrate hard enough, they can touch you, and you can feel it. Though, it’s never happened to me, it just made sense in my mind.

Some, on the other hand, are very vocal, too much some times....but what are you going to do...case in point...

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRRRRRRR!!"

Lost in my thoughts I let my guard down, and damn near jumped outta my skin. “Iventhen you son of a...” I just shook my head, I should be used to this, since after all, this is his favorite game to play. Ive was like, the prankster to beat all, and trust me, he took some time getting used to. For some reason he found me, he talks to me, he jokes with me, and for the most part, he stays close. For all purposes I would call him my friend. Yeah, I know...right?

“Startle me? I damn near pissed my pants. Auntie is fine by the way, what are you up to?” As if it wasn’t obvious. “You’ll have to stop coming through my desk, one of these days that crap that you have you hair slapped down with might glob something up.” I laughed a little. A rarity these days.

[Inertia]

The door opened and Chris Sorenson strode in, scratching his tousled hair and ritualistically making his way to the fridge before finally offering a muffled, “Good morning.” You see, Chris was more of a nocturnal breed--- sleep for him meant an exercise in tossing and turning that ultimately drew cold sweats and labored gasps whenever his eyes did rest. Nevertheless, as most health conscious folk would imbibe orange juice to quench whatever nightly thirst, Mr. Sorenson emerged from the kitchen with a cracked beer and a smile. He gravitated toward the window, after offering himself a cigarette and Alithia a general nod.

“You got a good night of sleep?” Chris implied as he parted the curtains and squinted into the early morning sunlight. “I ain’t going no where today; you could use the car,” Chris offered before gulping the beer.

“You already have the keys, since you stole them from me last night."

[Skylar]

My desk chair swivelled as the door opened. Chris looked like hell. Usual. “Morning to you too.”

Let me tell you a bit about Chris. When Auntie took me in, it was in a different neighborhood then I lived previously. Being how I was, I was a rather shy child, because at that age, talking about what I saw bothered me little, these days I am more cautious.

One day, while playing hopscotch in front of Aunties house, this wild haired little boy stood there, starting at me. At first I wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive, but he soon made that known to me. From that day forward we were inseparable. After talks and games played together we learned we were much alike, and so very different.

“A lil early for that, don’tcha think?” I pointed my pencil toward the beer. I never understood why every morning he came over and raided my fridge, for a bachelor he always had food in his apartment, which mind you is the other half of the house I live in. However, I never asked, and never complained, I like his company.

“Sleep was alright. Right here at this damn desk again.” I made a sour face. My neck always hurt like hell when I slept here. “Oh, and you are going somewhere, you can drive, I can drive, doesn’t really matter, but we have to be at Aunties around elevenish. She’s cooking.” I knew that would be enough to get him there, he always loved Aunties cooking, and if I didn’t bring him, she would be madder then a hornet.

I glanced at the keys beside me. I wouldn’t let my best friend become one of my other friends, especially by his own hand, and his own addiction. “Someday you’ll learn.” It was all I said, one day I assumed I would tell him exactly what I thought. As if that might make my abnormal life normal in some way. As if. You see, when you live an abnormal life, normalcy is beautiful, and Chris was no exception in my mind.


Ooc note: At this point guys, there is no need for a posting order. For now it will be just us. If I wanna add another player, I’ll let you know, for now this thread is considered private for the three of us.

[Zenith]

With a transparent smile, the figure grinned. Ive was and never really had been clear on his past -- where he was from, who he was, and how he'd died -- but what was clear about him was the simple fact that no matter how many times Ali had looked him over, she hadn't been able to spot the reason or cause of death, unlike most of the other creeps she saw on a daily basis. His body was flawless in it's gaunt nature; Ive's shirt was taut on his frame and his slender torso came into view, little, tough abdominal muscles shown through the thin tee, jeans hugging his legs as the styles went and his pallid feet were always bare. Always.

As he leaned back against the glass of the window, it frosted upon his contact, even at the warmth of the outside the fractals grew, spiraling around and crinkling outwards like a mass of snowflakes, glued to the spot where his back pressed and his eyes turned to the man who'd entered. Iventhen gave a 'sup' nod to the man who couldn't see him, as he flipped a cig from the illusionistic box into the crook of his lip and acted like a rather hard-assed teen.

"Mmm, her food always smells amazing. So amazing, I wish I was alive.

And as always, doll face. I'm here to make your day, just that much better!"

Pulling the fake cig from his lips, Iven rolled back, his head through the window completely now and outside the house and he blew. Fake smoke frosted the glass, higher up on the pane now than where his entire body had passed through and he leaned back in.
To have the dead compliment your cooking was beyond, probably the single greatest achievement a hot-blood could have. The toaster strudel was a fuckin' close call on this grandiose achievement, but Auntie's cooking was so phenomenal that Ive tagged along, just to smell and fakely drool all over the place as the food was being served.

"Don't need you dying on me from the undead, second-hand smoke, now do I?

Besides -- you look like shit. Slept on the table again. You should shower before Aunties. I like watching..."

The broadest smile crossed his face that literally stretched the contours of his once-handsomely, undead head into a Cheshire grin. His comment wasn't a question, but a statement of the obvious and he was instantly glad that he couldn't be hit by anything that flies.

[Inertia]

The illustrious and amicable Aunty invited them over for a meal.

As appealing as the prospect of a home cooked dish is, Chris appeared flustered. For some odd reason, Ali vied to convert him from the predicable and secluded lifestyle of a hermit. To whatever end, these short lived excursions did reanimate a certain part of him. Chris glared over into her eyes, searching them, wondering if she was aware that her presence did more than change his daily rituals. She anchored him to the rest of humanity.

Eventually the steel gray glare melted and he leaned on the windowsill.

“I’ll go on one condition,” he began, with the syllables slithering by his lips in roguish flair. “You consider investigating poltergeist activity in a place called Hematite. A distraught man called me about a piece of property he purchased there a year ago.” Chris’ impish façade evaporated as the seriousness of his tone climaxed. “He says it killed his daughter. They found her crushed to death at the bottom of the staircase, beneath a hutch.”

But what do I anchor her to? Chris thought. She invites me to her Aunt's house. I invite her to a spookfest. She should be used to it by now, but it just doesn't feel right. Maybe I should just...

"Think of it as a date," came the grim finish. "Without movie projectors or comfortable seats."

This guy needs help, of that I'm sure. His daughter is gone and what can he say to the police? Living justice means nothing if the criminal is dead and in virtual purgatory. Please, Ali, please.

[Skylar]

It always struck me odd that every time Ive was in my presence, that never once could I find a reason for his death. Of course, it is a strong belief of mine that these spirts, any spirts can show me them however they wish me to see them. Before death, after death, whatever made the happy. Truth be told though, I always wondered about him, always wondered if I could help. Usually if that is what they seek, they tell me, and he never had. Maybe he just liked my company.

I couldn’t hold back my childish giggle at his reaction to Chris. Shaking my head, I’m sure Chris would quickly figure out who was around me. I nodded to him, if he knew it or not, most days he did make better, even if a little. Again I laughed at him. I wondered if that ever got annoying for Chris, by now though, I am sure he was used to it, my silent conversations with my unseen friends.

At his last statement however, I stood. I did need to get around, but to his perverse dismay, I would skip a shower this morning, in the hopes that one later in the day would relax me enough to get some decent sleep, in a decent place.

As my eyes averted back to Chris, I swear he was giving me a look, not just any look, but one I couldn’t place my finger on. I bit down on my bottom lip, it was a habit I had when I was thinking, it always gave me away.

Chris laid his conditions on the table, and I knew either way, he wouldn’t turn down Aunties food, and risk offending her, however, I would gladly play along with his game and so, I listened to him intently. The playfulness in his voice faded in the background. The only thing I heard was....”Killed his daughter”.

The only thing that pulled me out of my dream-like state was when I heard the word date. The right side of my lips curled lightly. I knew he didn’t mean it that way, but I’d take what I could get, and he would never be the wiser. “Well, you drive a hard bargain there. Ghosts and a date, how could I say no?”

Almost involuntarily, my hands reached for the sky, my back arched and I stretched one helleva good stretch. I wasn’t by any means decently dressed, privacy was something I have gotten used to hot having. I was in my boy-short underoos, and an oversized mans shirt I grabbed last time I was at the Good Will. “Lemme get around right fast, you’ve got yourself a date.”

My room is right around the corner. I opened the door, grabbed the first pair of jeans I saw and slid them on quickly, tossed on a bra, a tank top, and a slip on pair of shoes. My hair was sloppy, but it looked cute, and would do for now. As quickly as I left the room, I was back with my two best friends, even if they would never really know each other. “All ready. You?”

[Zenith]

He always looks tired, Iventhen thought to himself, squinting with a grin at Chris and then cocking a head to the side oddly. Heavy partier, all around wild man, and yet he doesn't bring many of his women friends home with him ... if he has any. I ... wonder ...

Chris went on about a poltergeist and Ive sat upright instantly, flicking the imaginary cigarette through the window and then lofted an interested brow to the man's words. It wasn't unlike poltergeists to throw things, shove doors, bang on walls, and even turn pictures and desks into disastrous garbage, but ... a hutch?! Ive touched his chin in thought and looked down, when Ali left the room -- he wouldn't allow her to see the thoughtfulness of his face and what was going through his transparent mind at this instant. Highly fascinating though...

As a gentleman would, Ive stood as a human would and next to Chris at that, blowing gently on the back of his neck. The icy cold breeze would pass through the room, dominating the ethereal plane and forcing it's presence, much like a 'geist would, onto the corporeal -- that of reality. Ive snickered and then passed Chris to see Ali coming from the room. Ive, standing on the floor was roughly six foot and a few scraps of an inch, and compared to Ali - he was rather tall. A string bean of a apparition.

"So - We're goin' to Aunties for a scrumptious smell, and then ... I know it's a date for you, but would you mind me tagging along for the poltergeist? Maybe I can help...?" Iven gave Ali puppy dog eyes -- in which case, his eyes grew three sizes larger and brimmed with buckets of tears, the large crystalline eyes threatening to spill outright and ping the gentle heart of this ... haze-lover.

[Skylar]

As I left the room I knew immediately Ive was up to something. He was always, up to something..And Chris, well...he looked like his mind was preoccupied with something..who knows. I walked closer to Ive, my back to Chris as I spoke in barely a whisper. Even though Chris was used to my abnormal behavior, sometimes I just felt odd.

“Yes, you can come, too. Just wouldn’t be the same without you.” I winked playfully, but just as quickly, my face grew serious. “At the first sign of any trouble though, you must promise me that you will leave, understand?” I’m sure he would know what I meant by that, but for the rest of you, allow my to explain...

It is one of my beliefs that lingering souls can cause harm to each other. It might sound crazy but, I think it would be easier for them to harm each other, then to harm one of us. However, as I explained before, I do think they can cause us harm if they really want to. As for what Chris was talking about, that was a malicious soul, something I haven’t had much to do with, and truth be told, I was nervous.

[Zenith]

The invisible figure moved about silently before swinging a cold, ghastly hand to 'slap' Ali's ass - but sadly enough, his hand just passed into her rump cheek and then his reaction time, pulled it out before it would get uncomfortably cold. Iven snickered to himself thoughtfully and then went to walk through the wall, nearest them for no reason. He passed through it once, out of sight to his undead-seeing friend and then came back through it, his arms outstretched before him and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull.

Oddly enough, the expression was rather literal -- as Ive's eyes were on the back of his finely combed hair and the barren sockets were abysmal and hungry. His arms out before him turned a faded, translucent green tint and the flesh seemed to peel slowly from it and he groaned a zombified groan. Then cracked a broken smile across his smooth, handsome face.

"Shall we?" Ive smiled, pointing to the door. Then she leaned back and whispered a bit to him and Iventhen nodded slowly. He understood what she meant, but shit -- he was such a nice and friendly, Casper-esque, kinda ghost -- he couldn't see why a Poltergeist and he wouldn't get along...

Ive laughed. "Yes, ma'm. I'm sure he and I will be just great friends!"

[Skylar]

The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me, Chris being there. “Change of plans...” I looked back at Ive, I hoped he would understand. “You head to Aunties, and I’ll be along shortly.” The look on my face had to say....there is nothing to negotiate here. And I wouldn’t have. I’d never be able to live with myself if something ever happened to Chris during one of my crazy excursion.

A nod. That was all I gave Ive for now....


[Ok, gimme some credit while I get back into this...gogogogogo]

[Zenith]

Without hesitation to her words, Iven sighed heavily. So heavily in truth, that his lower jaw seemed to begin to sluff. It extended downward to his chest and along with it came his upper lip, nose, eyes, and forehead. Into a very odd Picasso-face pool, Iven perked instantly.

In a split second, his face snapped back to the way it was and excitedly he nodded to Ali with a shiver up his ghastly figure. I'll smell it up before you even get out there! He grinned widely again; Cheshire even.

In moments, he was gone. He wouldn't argue with that face, and she knew it.

________________________________________________________

Aromas. God, the aromas.

Pumpkin pie. Thinly sliced, brown-sugared, honey-baked ham without the fat trimmings, but cooked with -- for that insanely delicious flavor. Layered in pineapple slices that smelled as sweet and as fresh as a tropical flower and the juices flowed like Mount St. Helen's.
Veggies lined a platter, diced and sliced -- ready to rock it and a large bowl sat in the middle, heaped with ranch dressing because Auntie was a bit of a whore for ranch. And by a bit, we mean she would have worked four corners -- if it paid in ranch dressing only.
Stuffings and and ... and ... the works!

Iven purred contently as he manifested in Auntie's home and plopped down in his chair. Quite literally, it was his. Auntie had started setting a place for him the moment Alithia had brought him over for the first time. She was a spiritual marm and her intuition was almost always on point.

She came into the room slowly, humming a gentle tune to herself and carrying a basket of rolls before she paused, startled. "Good Lord, child! You'z scared tha Begesus outta' meh!" She looked in Iven's direction and smiled warmly before setting the rolls down onto the table. "How are you, darling?"

Iven grinned as this woman entered and he felt alive for ... well, the second time in his life? If that even fit his predicament... His whispers touched her spiritual heart and she smiled warmly, "I'm good, marm. Ali is coming soon, she said."

The thick woman laughed, waving a wild hand and walking back into the kitchen to continue cooking. The clanging pans brought a large smile to Iven's face -- Cookies! "She'll get here when she gets here, boy."

[Skylar]

And I got there. Not too long after he arrived, really. I always loved the smells in Aunties house. Always something cooking, frying, baking, it was a small slice of heaven. “Hi Auntie!” My voice sang as I entered the kitchen. Ive was already sitting in his seat with a starved look on his face. I wish just once he could eat Aunties food, I know he’d love it.

I wrapped my arms around the short stout woman. “Smells wonderful.” I took my seat, knowing everything was already ready to be eaten, Auntie was never late when it came to food and cooking. “Auntie, I need to talk to you about something.” My eyes grew a bit worried, I knew they did. “When we leave here, we’re going somewhere....”

She cut my words off before I could say anymore. “I know just what you’re talkin about girl, and I think you be a fool to go there. I heard about it from some of the ladies I play bridge with. Not a good idea, not a good idea at all...” I felt in my guts she was right....but I couldn’t turn a blind eye.

“I can’t just do nothing. What if I’m the only one that can make the difference? And, I’m not going alone, Ives going with me.” I wasn’t sure how reassuring it would be for her, but I didn’t know what else to tell her.