A New Home
Thomas looked through his own reflection in the car window, his eyes following the farmland and occasional batch of trees. Black eyes and black hair looked right through him, bored and dull. He palm was resting against his cheek, and he sighed, making a line on the fog which he had just released on the window.
"Don't worry, honey, everything will be fine," his mother said concerningly, looking over at him through the mirror. Her appearance was as frail as his, but she had sad, empty eyes bellow long raven hair, bangs cut straight above her thin brows. Dark rings had formed beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and almost constant stress. "You'll have more place to play than that ruddy old appartment." The woman added, laughing before starting into violent couphs. Through hearing those, Thomas' brows furrowed slightly, and he resisted wanting to cover his ears; The sound made his guts clench.
As silent crept back into the car, Thomas slowly fell asleep angainst the window. He didn't want to think of everything that had occured before his mother decided to move to the country. It was no surprise: she needed to calm down, after his father's suicide, and she clearly couldn't take the pressure of the city. Though they had barely any money, they managed to buy a house, about an hour from the city, in the middle of, well, nowhere. Naomi will be lonely, now that he's moved. At first, he was extremly dissapointed, and worried about Naomi, but he convinced himself that it was all for the better. He couldn't stand watching his mother grow sicker and weaker by the day, and smoking 10 cigarettes a day didn't really help either. So, without hesitating, they had moved, and the two left.
Thomas awoke with a start as his mother shook his shoulder for him to wake up, and he rubbed his eyes, which watered slightly from the brilliant sun that scorched over the fields. Crows cawed, watching the house's new owners curiously. He looked back at them uncomfortably, stepping sideways, closer to her mother as he held a box and his bag over his shoulders.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Said Thomas' mother, Lynn, gazing up at the old house with hopeful eyes from the driveway. She was always fascinated with antiques, and this house certainly reflected that. The colors were fading, and when Thomas stepped on the front porch, he felt the wood creak under his feet. A cold wind chilled his bones, and he shuddered slightly, stepping through the loose door, chosing not to answer in fear of getting her dissapointed.
He quietly marched up the stairs, which were stuck against the wall in front of the door, and he settled the box and his bag on the bed, where the mattress had already been moved up.
His room was pretty simple: an old desk, a single window, a mirror here, a wardrobe there. Dust covered most of the furniture, and, as Thomas looked around, he spotted small paw prints on the floor, where the dust had gathered especially. He blinked, benting down to examine it, and blew the white powder away. He'd never been very curious, and he would rather keep away from things which didn't involve him.
Unpacking and filling the empty house continued this way for a week. Since it was summer, Thomas didn't have to worry about school, or friends, and would sit in the kitchen throughout most of the day, watching his mother painting and cleaning the old house.
One day, while he held a box which his mother had told him to bring to the attic, he stopped as he spotted someone sitting in the staircase; a strange, who Thomas had not yet come to meet. He blinked at his presence, all the same keeping quiet, his face monotone as always.
There, sitting casually in the flight of stairs was a man with long black hair dangling over his waist. Though he was good-looking, something about him, made Thomas uneasy. He was looking opposite Thomas, watching his mother placing the glasses in the cupboards, couphing once in a while. His head turned as he felt Thomas' eyes behind him, revealing piercing blue eyes and a graceful face. He was young and handsome, yet his age was impossible to determine.
A crease appeared between Thomas' brows as he frowned. "Who are you?"
The man blinked in surprise, standing up. "So you can see me?"
Thomas nodded. He stepped back as the stranger approached. He glanced behind him at his mother, who didn't seem to notice anything at all.
"Forgive me if I frighten you," the young man said, bending his knees so his eyes leveled Thomas'. He smiled brightly before speaking again: "I would tell you my name, if I had one, but sadly, I'm afraid I don't remember it. No one's used it for avoer fifty years. A name is easy to forget you're dead." He laughed uneasily, his smile hiding his sorrow. At his words, Thomas stepped back again, dropping the box as he stared at the other, fright reflecting in his widened eyes. But before he could run, the spirit braught his index finger to Thomas' lips, hushing him. "There's nothing to fear, dear child. I am but a mere protector of this house, and whatever resides in it, meaning you and your mother. I've been... very lonely. I only wish to watch over those around me. But, your mother, she cannot see me, correct? She seems very ill... I'm afrasid I can't do much for her unless..."
Thomas' heart jumped, suddenly forgetting the fact that this young man before him was in fact, dead. "You can help her?" He asked, trying his best to keep his voice down. Pleased by his sudden excitement, the spirit smiled. "There is a way. But, in this form, I am as useless as a gust of wind. I must have a solid form, but, it is complicated."
Thomas thought for a moment, remembering the way he had looked at her. Would she be happy with a new husband? "You love her then, don't you?" He concluded, eyes locked on the other's.
The spirit smiled brightly again. "You are a smart boy. But, all I can do is watch, as she can not love me back if she can not see me."
"I know," Thomas said. "How can you help her if she can't see you?"
"I need a body. Mine has gone to shreds many years ago, and there is not one for another 20 miles. I need a dying one, one that isn't alive, nor dead. Somewhere I can slip easily into, without having to hurt anyone. Do you understand? You're young, but I trust your intellegence. I have known you since you came, after all. How old are you?"
"...12," he answered, turning around as he suddenly heard his mother call for him. "Will you be back again?" He asked before leaving.
"Of course," the spirit replied, standing back straight. "I'm always around. If you need my help, just call for me and I'll be there."
"Okay." Thomas said, before the spirit vanished. He smiled, finding comfort and trust in the handsome ghost, and he immediatly turned to meet with his mother who'd called him to get ready to leave.
*~*~*
Days passed since Thomas had met with the spirit haunting his house. He hadn't seen him since then and was growing worried. His mind was usualy burried in his thoughts of him, wondering how he had died, what his life was like before his death. Did he had loved ones? Had he been lonely there all his life? He pondered those questions as he sat in the car again, gazing idly at the rain drops clashing against the window. The roads were busy today and dark grey clouds covered the sky. He heard his mother take medicine pills from her bag, then couphing again. They were heading back to the city to help his grandmother with her appartment.
"Honey, fix your belt, will you? The roads are scary today," his mother said nervously, gesturing a slender yet pale hand at the loose belt around Thomas' waist. She was couphing again, and her voice was weary, and as she glanced back at him, he obliged immediatly.
Something smashed against the front of the car, slid against the side, the glass shattered, the car toppled, pushed over by a truck that had suddenly turned uncontrollably.
Water started to pour in through the broken glass as the car hit the surface of the river bellow the bridge on which, Thomas was sure they'd been driving not but a second ago. His head felt heavy, and he floated in the deep abyss, water rushing through his lungs until he realized what was going on and he shut his mouth and attempting to keep in his breath, at the same time, swallowing a huge draft of water.
Ignoring the blood that hovered in the ravier around him, he struggled to open the door, seing as the windowseal was still embroidered with sharp glass. The pressure in the water was crushing the sensitive nerves in his ears, and, unable to keep from breathing anymore, he opened his mouth, letting in another quaff of the river's water. He glanced back, seeing his mother's hair floating around her gracefully, her arms loose and her forehead bloodied and smashed, the darkness of the water blackening her features.
Water filled his lungs. He choked, finally managing to open the door with a kick formed with the last of his strength.
'please help me. anybody... help me.' Thomas shut his mouth again, trying to swim up, but the weight was too much, and he could not clearly see the surface of the water from the blood over his eyes and the heavy burning sensation on the side of his head.
"Little boys can be so gullible."
A familiar voice kept him concious, and Thomas whipped around to see that he was no longer beneath the freezing water, but he was now kneeling in a nostalgic room, filled with a warm atmosphere. There was a golden and crimson rug under him, and armchairs and a sofa were settled around a fireplace. This was his living room, yet it wasn't. It was much more new, yet, not exacly modern. In his head, a repeatatif beeping noise was resounding loudly, and he heard people shouting, a girl crying...
Then, a young man with lucious black hair stood from his chair, gazing casually at Thomas with those piercing blue eyes.
"You..!" Thomas managed to choke, shaking from the cold and dripping in a mixture of river water, mud and blood. The spirit merely sighed at his reaction. "I told you I needed a fresh dying body didn't I? And now it's kneeling right in front of me. What a surprise!"
"Am I...?" Thomas feared the worst.
"No, not exacly. And that's a particularly good thing for me. You see, the other humans are keeping you alive, but only to the slightest."
A shock ran through his heart and he clutched his chest before couphing up blood. The same was repeated twice. What was going on? The voices were giving him a terrible headache.
"Luckily for me, you will live. But for now--"
Thomas widened his eyes as the spirit suddenly dissapeared and reappeared in front of him. His cold fingers touched his jaw lightly, and he pressed his lips against Thomas' in a light kiss. Darkness swallowed him as another jolt made his heart thump painfully against his chest, and then... nothing.
