Red Was Always My Favorite Colour

Chapter 7: Conversations With Shadows

People say ghosts are just spirits with unfinished business, souls that are unable to move on from the living. But what happens when a ghost can't remember what they left behind, what if they forgot their life alive? Do they need to figure out how to live death on their own? Death is in itself very confusing, far more incomprehensible than the human mind can understand.

One goes from breathing and living and, suddenly, it's all darkness. It's cold. Their breath is taken away in a moment of despair as they try to fight the inevitable, Death. She comes for all; whether they be children or adults, seniors or pets, no one escapes her wrath. Everyone dies and yet, ironically, everyone fears dying. It's part of life: you're born, you live, you die. Some people are taken far too early, leaving them with too much guilt, too much regret, too much sorrow to ever move on. They come back as ghosts, however, still quite different from their alive counterparts.

Ghosts, whatever you want to believe they are, are separate from their alive-selves. They lived the same life, yes, but they don't suffer the same fate - a place between the living and dead, a place where the once alive resides: Limbo. Ghosts live their death freely, searching for their unfinished business while their alive counterparts suffer alone in whatever their limbo may be.

Some people share a limbo together, some people are just destined to be alone. However, that might not have been the case for Tommyinnit, who showed up surrounded by nothing but void. He called out, his breathing hitched as he stumbled around this new, unfamiliar place. Everywhere hurt - his arm, his face, his body, just everywhere. With a groan, he kept walking, limping from time to time but what was there to do other than sit and do nothing?

Fuzzy memories filled Tommy's mind as he grabbed a hold of his head. It was dripping blood, when did that happen? Wait, that's right, Dream. He was stuck in the prison with Dream and... and the Egg - the stupid fucked up Egg. It was a week perhaps, he had lost track of time in the cell due to there being no working clock. And then, everything went black. Death.

He had seen her in his flashbacks, his last moments alive. A tall woman with long, honey-brown hair and a long, black dress with purple accents. The woman, Death, wore a veil that matched her dress as well, it was long enough to cover her face. Tommy was dead, Death had brought him to whatever this strange place was. Limbo.

As Tommyinnit walked around this unfamiliar place, calling to whomever could hear him, he stopped in his tracks when there was something that caught his attention. Was this a figment of his imagination or did he truly see who he thought they saw? Was he just going mad from losing his precious lives that he wished he never had in the first place?

"W-wilbur...?" was what Tommy decided to say, but his voice was only as quiet as a mumble as he looked at the person standing before him - they looked exactly like his pseudo-brother, Wilbur. The figure turned and looked down at him, seemingly shocked yet sad to see Tommy there. He was taken away far too early too, just like the blonde who stood before him while trembling.

Wilbur walked closer to the teenager, tilting his head to the side as if he didn't believe what he saw. "Tommy?" Wilbur spoke, unsure of what he saw. Trembling in both confusion and fear, the blonde boy took a few steps back.

"What... what the fuck!?" Tommy managed to speak, but it came out as a shout unintentional. As he stepped back, a sharp pain ran through his head and caused the boy to stumble a bit. Stupid Dream. Stupid Death. Why did death need to hurt so much? It was unfair, but then again, life was always unfair so why did Tommy expect death to be any different.

"Woah, careful. It- it takes some time getting used to," Wilbur spoke calmly as he held onto Tommy to make sure he didn't fall over. Wilbur's touch was as light as a feather. With a sigh, the blonde looked at Wilbur and noticed a stab wound going through Wilbur's stomach - the blood staining his yellow sweater and brown trench coat - it sent a shiver down his spine.