Playing with Fire

Playing with Fire (ch. 4)

Chapter 4

What are you?

I’m walking down a long corridor; it seemed to be my high school. While I’m walking I peer at all the walls and see all the familiar posters displaying Kids Help Phone ads, and posters for this year’s school play- The Wizard of Oz. As I walk I also notice that I can’t seem to hear the tapping of my feet on the marble floors.

I look down and cry out into the dark. My body ended at my stomach; somehow I was floating in mid air. I grab at the air where my legs and feet should be, but all I feel is the cold, dry air. I look at the closest poster and grab at it to try and stop me from floating, but my hands go right through the poster. My body takes control of me and floats over to the basketball rack. It showed a bunch of trophies and pictures of all the teams from the past. My school- Western Collegiate Institute dates back to 1857. I peer at the first picture its date said 1912. I look at all the black and white team players, all were smiling except one; his mouth was formed in a line.

I squint my eyes to get a better look, and gasp. The boy looked strangely like Leo, but that was impossible. Leo was born the same year as I was- 1992. I could have mistaken him for maybe Leo’s great great great great- ok like fifty times great grandpa, but they looked identical. I laugh hysterically and look at the next photo, but there’s the same boy with the same expression. As I look at all the pictures I notice the same boy in every single one of them up until thirty years ago.

I suddenly feel very cold and I get the feeling someone’s watching me. I turn around and see a fairly small boy staring at me with big red eyes. I float down till I’m the same height he is.

“Who are you?” I ask unpleasantly. He grimaces and whispers in a voice with no emotion.

“My name, if that is what you were referring to, is Shiloh.”

I look down nervously at his gray translucent skin and touch his miniature hands. As our hands meet I flinch back with a yelp. His hands felt like icicles. His hair was as black as a crow and his clothes were white, stained with what looked like blood.

“What happened to you Shiloh?” I ask.

Shiloh sighs sadly and reaches his hand through the glass that was protecting the trophies and pictures. He picks up the first picture, and then points at the boy who looked like Leo.

“He killed me.” Shiloh says logically. “He was trying to kill a Daydreamer, but he mistook me as one and accidently killed me while I was coming back from my grandmother’s house.” His eyes seemed far off; remembering that day. I suddenly feel sympathetic and I get the need to hug him. That thought quickly fades away as I remember the temperature of his hands.

“What is a Daydreamer?” I ask hesitantly. Shiloh smiles and says.

“The spirits that laze around-not choosing to go to Heaven or Hell after they die, but to stay and haunt the living. Daydreamers are very envious of you humans.” My blood runs cold at the thought of ghosts and I start to tremble.

“What am I doing here?”

“Your here to find more about him.” He points at the boy in the picture again. “His name when he was born was Gabriel, but he calls himself Leo, after his father; the Angel Leo.” I start to feel tears run down my face. I look down and I’m about to apologize for crying on Shiloh, but I notice I’m not crying normal watery tears; I’m crying tears of blood. Shiloh sticks his tongue out and catches a tear on it. He shuts his mouth and smiles. I smile warily at him.