Inky's Collection of Shorts

Ghost: Aftermath -- Part 1

If you're here because you found my first book, stared at my pretty drawings for a while, and went Huh, there's no way that's it, then I'm very sorry to inform you that you're wrong.

Or at least, that's what I'd like to say. Just that one journal is enough to put my life — and the structural integrity of our world — at risk.

So then, I'm sure you're asking, why would you go and write another one, you absolute idiot?

This one'll be different. In my last journal, I focused on my rise to being a Ghost — which, as you're already well aware, was an entire ordeal. That sort of thing only happens to a person once every three lifetimes, if they're lucky. If you thought that there'd be more messed up stuff in my life to write about, then congratulations, you have a good grasp of how my life works.

But no. I'll focus more on the aftermath of our Hunt, because even with our world being focused on death and fighting and gore (thanks to a certain psychopathic god above), there's still more to everything than just that.

Before I begin, let me properly introduce myself — you know, just in case you accidentally picked up this book and have no idea who I am. You're probably wondering what this other journal I keep mentioning is about. If you check the third house in the second cul-de-sac, Cyan Street, in the little wooden box hidden beneath one of the floorboards, you'll find nothing there, screw you. I'm not gonna hand out the key to my death in a neat little box to the first random stranger who reads this. I actually have a sense of personal well-being.

My name is Clyde. In the ten-tier ranking system of my world, I'm positioned at the second-highest: Ghost. Along with the ranks, there are Orders — factions, in a way, where individuals can coexist together for the most part. There are a couple big ones, with lesser Orders sprinkled here and there, although those usually get assimilated into the larger ones over time.

Acheron (that's the name of my world) isn't that large of a place, but it's still reasonably sized. There's definitely more out there that we haven't discovered, but it's also insanely dangerous to explore too far, so we've kept to the bubble around the enclosed forest of the Hunt. The bubble is slowly expanding in size as more and more pathways are created, but in comparison to the land we haven't explored yet, it's nothing.

Calling it a "world" is probably a little generous. A world suggests a planet, which I'm pretty sure isn't what's happening here. Acheron is more like... an enclosed space, separated from everything else, a little patch of earth in which the psychopathic god could watch us claw at each other's throats.

In Greek mythology, the river Acheron is known as the "river of woe". Other times, it's referred to as the river of pain. Both are pretty accurate descriptors of my life.

But I'm sure you already know all that. I'm sure you'd rather be bored as I regale you with tales of my daily life than be bored by descriptions of a world that you're already familiar with. So let's get to it.

***

It's strange how the mundane things seem so incredible to you after staring death right in the face.

I stared at the small caterpillar as it wobbled its way across the log in front of me. It looked funny, with two large dots at the top of its green body, shaped like giant, startled eyes. I'd probably walked right past the same caterpillar a million times before, never once noticing the speck of green next to my feet. Most likely, I'd accidentally stepped on a couple already. I'd never once noticed them, and yet there I was, completely entranced by the sight before me, watching as a tiny russet sphere — the true head, maybe? — shuffled around.

"You're very weird," I told it affectionately.

The caterpillar did not respond. To my chagrin, someone else did.