Cursed Tales 8 - "Ghost-Walker"

The Homeless.

Jonny was again on the bridge. For the fourth time, he stood there trying to figure out what was going on. The gothic bridge that seemed as if build from a different era was still standing, separating the city in different parts. He looked around but even if he had not, he knew there was something different about the whole ordeal, again. The snow was the same, how could it be different? The benches, lampposts, trash bins, even the cone shaped structure beside him were nearly identical. Only the sign was different. It was always the sign.
  "Could it be that I'm traveling through the same event in different aspects of it happening? Or am I reliving different events that only happen here?" - He asked himself and leaned back on the parapet.
He could see a pattern to this point. I mean, how could he not? It was always this location, with only the victim of whatever had happened to em, being there, looking for help before they die. The old granny, Mercury the cat and now Miley. Question is, did they have something in common or was this practically individuals with zero connections to one another? Jonny could not really wrap his mind around this idea. He exhaled exhausted from the efforts to piece everything together and decided to head home for now. Turning back to the cone shaped structure, the boy proceeded to walk ahead, crunching on the snow gathered around the ground. He looked at the lamps and saw how one of them quickly flickered for a second. Focused on the lamp, his memory gittered and he remembered the time when his mom and him would take afternoon strolls around the neighborhood park and stay until the lamps would light up and illuminate the way for all flying inspects. He would observe how the moths and all little flies gather around the light and make their best efforts to get inside. Those were good times, when school was only a distant future. A time where he did not need to worry this much. He smiled and looked back on the road. Interestingly enough, he saw a barely glowing light coming from behind a trash bin. Intrigued and simply curious, he rushed towards it. The more he gained on the light he knew that the light was either coming from a person, or someone had left some sort of device that produced small flames. As he got closer, he finally saw him. A small kid, probably younger than him, wearing very dirty and torn clothes with different layers on top one another to try to defend himself against the cold. It was sitting on the snowy ground, cross-legged, with the only source of warmth coming from the lighter he was holding as a torch. The flame was elegant and it might have given him enough of the warmth he needed but it was not the ideal thing for the young kid. His head was covered with a patched hood, with his face half covered by a scarf. At least he had some sort of coverage for the problem with the winter season. Jonny then glanced at the object in front of the boy. A small leather hat, as torn as everything else the boy was wearing. It had one coin in it, and it was not event fifty cents.
  -Hello... - said Jonny to introduce himself and not startle the boy.
The kid looked at him. His face was darker than his, which meant he was a gipsy. No big deal. His father had banned him from talking to those people, but he did not care as much. He was not here to stop him anyway.
  -How are you doing? - continued Jonny, looking at the boy with worry.
Even with the layers upon layers, he did not seem warm enough. The stranger looked up, his eyes almost done with life.
  -How do you reckon I am doing mate? - The gipsy returned the question, with a harsh tember.
Jonny felt a bit silly after asking a sitting in the snow person that particular question.
  -I am sorry if I am bothering you, I did not wish to do so. I only wanted to.... - he stopped and looked at the boy.
What did he really want? To help him, or maybe greet the sitting boy? Jonny struggled to think of a plausible explanation but he could not.
  -You wanted to humiliate me for begging in the middle of this bridge? - suggested the younger boy to which Jonny quickly shook his head.
  -Of course not! You have your reasons to be out here and doing what you are doing. Only a horrible person could mock you for that! - replied Jonny.
His mind instantly went to his father. He grunted by the very thought of it and kneeled to the boy. It was clear that the gipsy did not look him with disdain or any sort of resentment anymore. In fact, his eyes almost felt as if he was wildly surprised by the reaction of the elder boy. Jonny was going to give him all his spare pocket money; he had a lot and was willing to spend them wisely. The gipsy however stopped him.
  -No...I will not take your money. You are a good person. Only the bad should give me money for they do not really acknowledge the importance of it - said the gipsy, but this time his voice was clear and filled with hope.
Jonny was amazed by his words, hence why he nodded to his requests and stood up. As he looked down one more time before heading home though...he once again saw death. A distant car horn echoed around him, with the tires screeching piercingly. The boy nearly ducked, but when he looked at the gipsy, his insides almost wanted to throw whatever they had in them. The boy’s head was completely smashed, as if a big watermelon made of blood. Big chunks of brain matter had splattered all around, with tire-marks all around his clothes and ruggedly stiff body. Jonny screamed from the sight, as it happened so fast, that he tripped back, fell and nearly hit his head. Closing his eyes, he awaited for something to hurt, but when nothing happened, he looked up…and it was clear as day that something had changed again. He did not even have to bother at looking at the usual surroundings. His eyes fixated on the cone structure. This time, the sign noted:
    "In loving memory of the old lady, the cat, the girl and the lone boy. “