This is a real good way to get me to buy perfume honestly. If this was a perfume commercial instead of a hyper sexualized scene, I would think about buying this perfume.
You talk to the dead fairly regularly. Lately, you’ve gotten the distinct impression that the dead wish you’d just shut up.
To be fair, you do talk a lot. You can’t help it, really. No one alive seems to listen to you.
“That actually reminds me of when—”
“Yeah, my dog is the cutest,” Penny continued, not even acknowledging your attempted addition.
You hunched your shoulders, mouth clicking shut. You wanted to tell them about your dog, who was undoubtedly the best dog in the known universe. He was dead, of course, and had been for almost six years, but just because nobody else still talked to him didn’t mean that you wouldn’t. After all, you knew what it was like to be ignored.
Pushing the mashed potatoes around your plate, you stared blankly at the off-white tablecloth. Wasn’t this day supposed to be about you? An eighteenth birthday only came once, after all.
But still, it seemed like everything was the same. Your family was caught up in their own conversations and their own lives, and they just didn’t have any time for you. It’s alright. You didn’t mind. Because when dinner was over and everyone retreated to their rooms, you were the only one who would have someone waiting for you.
When the time came, you practically bolted from the dining room. There was no cake— your mother was allergic to eggs, but that was okay.
You raced up the stairs, almost slipping. You managed to grab the railing at the last moment, and brushed it off. You had way more important things to worry about.
“Clark!” You called out as soon as you closed your bedroom door, excitement rising at the thought of him floating in air, that same anticipatory expression on his face as it always was.
But there was no one there. Not Clark, the fifties greaser who tried way too hard to be cool, not any of the little whisps of spirit that hung around, not anyone. Even Goat was gone.
At that, you felt a bit of panic emerge. Goat was always here. He was your dog, your faithful companion— he followed you everywhere he could, and waited patiently in your room every single day.
So then, why—
“Oh, hey,” Clark blinked in surprise as he almost floated through you from where he emerged from the floor. “You’re back already? Damn, the days seem to go by faster and faster, huh?”
“Yeah,” you said weakly, emotions battling between relief and anxiety. “I get what ya mean. How was your day?”
“It was fucking awesome!” Clark crowed, pumping his fist in the air. “I finally got one over on that Samurai bastard at the museum! He’s not gonna go calling me a hoodlum anymore, that’s for sure.”
You barely resisted the urge to facepalm. Clark had been involved in some kind of ridiculous (and entirely one-sided) feud with Yukimura ever since the man’s armor had been brought to the nearby history museum.
Yukimura was a much different type of ghost than Clark— he was attached to an object instead of a place, for one, and he also had common sense. Which Clark, unfortunately, didn’t have too much of. You tended to blame it on all of the head injuries— if someone actually got that many concussions when they were alive, it had to do something to them when they were dead.
As far as you were aware, the whole thing had started when Clark had been messing around with some of the other spirits at the museum (which he spent almost all of his time doing, since he apparently still had the same sense of humor as a middle-schooler), and Yukimura had stepped in.
You didn’t quite know all of the facts of what happened, seeing as all you had to go by was Clark’s many, many angry rants, but Yukimura had essentially called him a no-good punk and kicked him out of the museum.
Hence— feud.
Usually, you found this pretty amusing. You would be all for listening to how Clark gotten beaten up this time, but somehow you weren’t really in the mood today.
“Is… something wrong?” Clark asked cautiously, floating over a bit so that he could look at you face-to-face.
“Do you remember what day it is today?”
He bit his lip, eyes darting around as if your bedroom held the answer. “Not really… Sorry?”
You sighed, not having expected much. A ghost didn’t need to pay much attention to the passage of time. Still, though. It hurt, just a bit. Most ghosts ignored you. Everyone was busy with their own thing, even in the afterlife.
Clark was one of the first to really listen. He was callous and blunt and didn’t understand any kind of social cues, but he listened to you.
“Did I do something wrong?” he said, and his voice seemed very small in that moment. “I’m sorry, really. I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”
Suddenly, it occurred to you that maybe you were the only one who listened to him, too. He never talked about any friends— the only person he really talked about was Yukimura, and that was never in much of a complimentary light.
“No, it’s fine,” you shook your head, giving him a soft smile. “So what happened at the museum today? Did you finally get your revenge?”
“Fuck yeah I did!” Clark said enthusiastically, his whole body brightening up in a way no living person’s could. “See, I go in, he’s on me immediately, right? Starts telling me that my kind ain’t wanted there, calling me a ‘yakuza’ or some shit. And I’m like, fuck off bro I’ve been around here longer than you, and then he says—”
You let his rambling wash over you as you laid back on your bed. A quiet ‘woof’ caught your attention, and Goat’s head popped through the covers. You pulled him close to you, cuddling into the slight pressure his body held. It was a lot like what you imagined it would be like to hug a cloud.
“And then, he brings out his fucking sword—”
“Did you hit him with your baseball bat?” You asked sleepily, already able to tell how this confrontation went.
“I was going to, but I decided to be the bigger man,” Clark shrugged, looking very smug for someone who had definitely gotten his ass kicked and then fled in terror. “It doesn’t matter, really. I’ll always win in the end.”
“Oh?” You said amusedly.
“The others actually like me. They’re all petty bastards that I want nothing to do with, o’course, but at least they tolerate me. They all hate him. Think he’s too uptight or something, which is pretty rich coming from a bunch of old farts like them.”
You sat up, narrowing your eyes in thought. “He doesn’t have any friends? At all?”
“No,” and here, Clark looked a bit irritated. “What’s it matter? He’s my eternal rival, am I supposed to care if he’s by himself?”
“Next time, try talking to him,” you suggested, the beginning of a plan swirling around in your brain.
“What, why?” Clark asked, though he thankfully seemed more bewildered than hostile.
You shrugged, settling back down. “Everyone needs someone to talk to. Maybe that’s why he keeps fighting you. Besides, what could it hurt?”
“My inner organs,” he said dryly.
“You’re a ghost,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “Nothing he does actually hurts you.”
“It hurts my pride,” he grumbled, but you knew that tone of voice. He was giving in, just like you knew he would. Yukimura wasn’t the only one who could use someone else to talk to.
“That sounds like a personal problem,” you said airily.
Clark scowled at you, turning to float upside down. You only smiled serenely. Goat was licking your chin, your family wasn’t bothering you, and you were here harassing your best friend. What more could you need?
“Fine,” he said shortly, and you valiantly smothered the urge to start gloating. “But you’re coming with me.”
Now that caught you off guard. “What?”
“Come with me,” Clark said, and he was staring at you intently. The dead didn’t have to blink, but it was only in moments like this that you recalled that fact. Gray and misty, they seemed to pierce through you. “I want you to go.”
“I—” you swallowed compulsively, unsure of what to say. You’d known Clark for almost six years now, and he had never asked to really do anything with you. “Why?”
“Everyone needs someone to talk to,” he parroted, something almost gentle in his expression. “And everyone needs someone to listen, too. So will you come?”
You grinned, more happy right now than you had been all day. “Yes. I’d love to.”
–notes:
Well, that was fun! This is part of the ‘Caffeine Challenge’ by @caffeinewitchcraft (who is an amazing writer that you should follow if you don’t already), so I just jotted this whole thing down in the last hour. My first time doing this, but I definitely like what I came up with!! Hopefully I’ll be able to participate again next time. 😊
Umm I would LOVE to see a second part to this! I’m a huge fan in how you handled mood change in this piece, feeding us the atmosphere with the family and then slow change as the narrator moves through the house! (I hope that makes sense) I’m always a huge fan of “off screen” hints. Like Clark and Yukimura’s fight and the implications therein. PLEASE let me know if you continue this and thanks for gracing the challenge tag with this!
Emma's Blog 