The Lost

The Lost (Chapter 7)

Okay scouts, I know it has been a bit of a wait (hold the bit part) but it is here, so I hope you all enjoy it. This chapter should answer some questions, while adding more to your noggin as well :)

This one goes out to Brian (aka codesweat). He has played a strong hand in encouraging my writing and I owe him oodles. So thank you my new friend. Also guys, please do listen to this last announcement... I would really appreciate it if you would read his stories, especially his current one 'Purgatorium'. I mean it when I say this guy has some serious writing skills and fresh, vivid plot lines. Really, it is a work of art. That said, I basically demand you read it.. He needs more recognition than he is currently receiving, and we all know how it was to start off here! (One hell of a large site)

Thanks guys for your patience, I have many legit reasons as to not uploading sooner, but really, who needs to hear them? It is now up.. so hopefully all is well :)

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Chapter 7

ARI

I told Kian, my mind finally starting to clear, "I think my killer tried to take my soul again."

As crazy as that sounds, I really think that's what he tried. What the hell he was, I have no idea, but he branded me. And with that brand came a weird knowing feeling. I could now feel the amount of humanity radiating off me; its waves were intense. It wasn't this noticeable before.

The only thing I could equate to my new humanity, to my new 'free-will' body, was that my killer had done something to me. Something besides branding me, something new was inside me.

He looked completely confused. Join the club.

I started from the beginning.. "Last night, well really I think it was this morning, I was kind of daydreaming, and realized I had teleported to my grave. I got this eerie feeling that someone was watching me again, and then I felt the most nerve-racking presence. I turned around to see Tom's ghost form staring me straight in the face. But really, it wasn't Tom; there is no way it could have been. The wounds that covered his body were not present in his ghost and his eyes shone like the fire pits of hell. There should have been no way that Tom could have been at the gravesite. I mean no ghost can wander, well besides me. Anyways, I just knew something wasn't right. He reeked of death, but not the death of a normal horror enriched ghost, but a dark hollowness that lacked a soul. I don't even know if he was a ghost." I stopped my rant there, gauging Kian's reaction. He looked perplexed, but only slightly so, like he was catching on.

Instead of waiting, I gave him the punch line; he could ask questions afterwards. "He spoke to me. Telling me he was not really Tom and that he was my killer. He told me that I would remember it in time, which I assume means my death. Then his form reached out and locked its dark wispy hand around my wavering wrist with a death grip. I was suddenly consumed in a burning, raging fire and then all there was, was darkness." I was silent for a second, trying to rein in the courage to say what I had to say next. Somehow, I assume, he knew not to speak, yet. He gave me that soundless second.

When I was ready I said, "Kian, I think I felt myself die, it was unclear most of it, but I know for certain that I was killed. I don't know how, and I don't even know why. Somehow through my death, I became this super ghost, and whoever, or whatever, is in Tom's ghost did it, I have no doubt."

I looked up at Kian then and his eyes shone in a hurt that I thought only I was feeling. The way that his eyes reflected how the pain in my soul felt, somehow relieved some of that pain. The sureness of that bond was felt through my hand that was still placed in his.

When he spoke, his voice had some kind of deep ringing of emotion that baffled me. It was so raw. This new change in throwing back our emotional veils should have unnerved me, but it didn't. It felt right.