The Island of the Slaughtered | TDI AU

Dreams

I walked slowly as I noticed the sun would soon start to slowly rise above the trees, creating a melon-like color I've seen repeatedly my entire life. I play with the corners of the book I was holding as I nervously pay attention to everything around me...

The sounds of a morning forest, the soft breeze against my skin. I could smell the waters of the sea I was approaching. I smiled when I saw him again.

Staring at me, white-eyed, was Noah. He peeked his head out of the water to see me walking faster towards the sand. He slowly started to approach me, but of course, he couldn't leave the water. It was just his spirit after all... he sat with a slight smile on his face, tucking his knees into his chest as he held them loosely.

I've been visiting Noah's ghost for a few days now. I was wondering if his body washed up when I saw him wandering the water. At first, I was shocked, especially since he can't talk back. Now, I tell him everything, and he just sits and listens, occasionally nodding his head or smiling. He looks just like his dead body, but I've been finding the beauty in it. His wet hair hangs tightly against his neck and blood is stained permanently to his tan body. I started bringing books with me, since I know he probably misses them. Plus, it gives us something else to talk about.

I flipped open to a random page as I sat as close to the beach as possible, I saw the title "Spirits of the Dead", by Edgar Allan Poe. I honestly can't understand a lick of what it's saying, but I prefer it over the short stories Noah was reading from the other book. They're all jumbled messes... none of them connect. What's the point of having it in the same book if they're not even similar?

"Thy soul shall find itself alone..."

I glanced up from the book to get a second look at Noah. His face was very numb... I kept reading:

"... 'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

"Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In dea-"

I paused when I felt a cold breeze on my face. I looked up to see Noah's face inches from mine, his eyebrows furrowed. My face went red with embarrassment as I realized he must have been trying to get my attention for a while. He put his arm down as he slowly shook his head, half playful, half serious.

"Oh... sorry." I smiled awkwardly. He started to smile, but quickly stopped himself. He's silly like that, "Too soon, huh?" He nodded as I flipped the page, "How about Poe's 1875 Alone?" He didn't have a reaction, so I assumed that was a yes. I started to read...

"From childhood's hour I have not been

 As others were; I have not seen 

As others saw, I could not bring 

My passions from a common spring. 

From the same source I have not taken 

My sorrow; I could not awaken 

My heart to joy at the same tone; 

And all I loved, I loved alone. 

Then- in my childhood, in the dawn 

Of a most stormy life- was drawn 

From every depth of good and ill 

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled