Frankenstein and tea for eternity.

Tchaikovsky

"I'm here."

The storm battered at the window and darkness coated the old library, the moon sending small streaks of light through the gap in the ancient, yellowing curtains.

"I know."

Tchaikovsky played quietly from his pristine, golden gramophone.

He put his tea down on the coffee table and stood from his armchair, looking around the room for the ghost that visited him nightly.

It stood by the gramophone, staring down as the record spun round and round.

"I got you this record. In 1879."

The ghost looked up, now staring at the library man.

"It was your favourite piece and records were a new thing but I managed to get it. Especially for you." He smiled. "And here you are, in whatever you want to call this life after death, listening to it. I never realised how sad you were."

"Ghastly what do you want from me? Revenge? Company? An apology?"

Ghastly scoffed "Erskine, old friend, we're already dead. Revenge would be meaningless."

Erskine frowned.

"I want an explanation," Ghastly said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't have one." The floor suddenly appeared extremely interesting to Erskine. "You've heard everything I have to say and nothing is satisfying you. I have no other explanation, I'm sorry."

"Killing for no reason isn't what you do; it never was. You always had to have a strong reason or you refused, even during the war. So why now? Why me and Anton?"

He sighed "You were in my way."

"No. No, it's more than that."

"Ghastly, I don't know what you want me to say!" The thunder outside his ghostly house cracked as Erskine yelled, like an old film.

"I felt like what I was doing was right." He took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing. "I felt that the mortals needed us and so I tried to take action but you and Anton were never going to let me so I removed you from the equation."

Ghastly shook his head "You're not the man I thought you were. You're a coward, Erskine." he laughed a humourless laugh "I have a question for you."

It was Erskine's turn to scoff now, "Another?"

Ghastly sneered "What if it had been Valkyrie who was in your way? A teenage girl who adored you. What would you have done then, Erskine?"

Erskine stayed quiet, not wanting to answer.

"You would have killed her, wouldn't you?" Ghastly's ghostly hair flopped in his face as he shook his head again in disgust.

"I'm sorry, Erskine. Truly sorry."

Erskine's frown returned "Sorry for what?"

"That you'll never get to be human like the rest of us. That you spent 408 years living with no compassion, having to fake it to get anywhere."

Erskine wanted to cry now. He wanted to sob and scream and break down with apologies but it seemed that corpses didn't possess tears. He was dead physically and emotionally.

"I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore, I have to move on. Goodbye, Erskine."

Erskine turned his attention back to the man that was fading in front of him and smiled a sad smile.

"Goodbye, old friend."

He turned, not wanting to see his friend leave him, and returned to his armchair. The storm was clearing up now. The moon was slowly sinking unaware that it was just going to be replaced by another dead sun.

Dead.

Everything was dead.

And it was Erskine's fault.

He smiled again, amused.

Erskine had royally fucked up and now everything was dead.

He'd killed his friends, he'd killed a young girl's mind, he'd killed himself and now even this peaceful afterlife he'd imagined was dead.

But he was stuck here for eternity so he might as well try and enjoy it.

He picked up his tea and grabbed a book from the nearest shelf.

It was Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

How fitting.