STALKER

Chapter 112 - 13th June

This chapter is more about me doing something nice for Ben than anything else.  But it does tie up some loose ends and frees Ben as much as a tethered ghost can be free.  The plot now comes together for the last little bit.

I haven't had so much fun in ages or laughed so hard, and it wasn't only me. Weirdo, who only knew half of what was going on was still bent over laughing as I narrated the goings on. As for Ben, his view of the world got turned on its head and he was catching up on centuries of good times.

.....

The fun and games started this morning with loud shrieks coming up the stairs and reaching me in the bedroom like some strange kind of squeaky siren. I woke up with a start, poor Weirdo must have thought that something terrible had happened when I jumped out of his arms, dragged my clothes on, and ran out of the room. If the yelling was anything to go by my offering ritual worked, I fist-pumped as I slid to a stop at the top of the stairs.

Ben was at the bottom of the staircase doing his happy dance/dying cockroach impersonation. When he spotted me he was up on his toes like a ballerina ready to take off. Dear God I wish I could video him, I felt like a proud parent. It wasn't a case of him being excited, he was positively manic. The boy had a set of lungs and he was using them. He let out the sort of high-pitched, ear-piercing squeals you'd hear at a boy band concert mosh pit.

He was a sight, wearing his new pale blue short-sleeve shirt, half-buttoned, and a pair of denim shorts that were a little too big and hung to his knees.  It looked like they were only being held up by the small button on the waistband. He obviously hadn't worked out how zippers worked. On his feet, he was wearing the white socks I'd bought him, pulled up as high as they would stretch, and a pair of fluffy kids' slippers. 

Ben was waving a dark blue Yankees cap at me, putting it on his head one way and then another. I noticed he used every one of the scrunchies I gave him on his ponytail, it looked like a long, fat multi-colored sausage on the back of his head.  "Which way does it look best?" He yelled up at me, unable to climb the stairs no matter how much he tried. 

 His face was pink, and he looked like an adorable redheaded muppet. He was so young and fragile looking, all gangly arms and legs, bony elbows and knees.  It was hard to believe he died when he was 16.  He looked much younger and verging on malnourished.  

I couldn't help but laugh at the excited smile on his face, the red teary eyes, and his obvious joy at having new clothes for the first time in centuries. Nana Ovia never performed an offering ritual for him in all the years he was with her, so this was a long time coming. 

He ran off and disappeared under the stairs and then came rushing back with a journal similar to mine and a box of pens. He hugged them to his chest. We had spoken several times about him recording all the magic knowledge he'd acquired over his time with the Troy witches, and I thought this would be a good way for him to do it.

Ben was an exceptionally smart boy and this could be his little project, something that would give him purpose, and let him use that sharp brain of his. There were so many memories and amazing bits of information in that head of his.

"I've already started." He opened the journal and as I came down the stairs I saw the beautiful neat handwriting. "Logically I should start with Alchemy, then  Antidotes but that won't be for a while. As you can imagine Alchemy has so many sections and subsections if you want to do the job properly. I think I will need another journal. Can I have another journal? Not that I'm not pleased with this journal but in the future...another journal would be nice. Can it be like this one, I like things to match." He went on babbling insanely.