It seemed like an eternity

Crying is good

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"YOU ARE 458 YEARS OLD?" He said, and passed out again. Well, i can't say that i didn't expect that from him. I stood up, and looked outside the window. Why do i always, always have to pay? I said to myself, looking at the moon rising up from behind the trees.

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Now:

"No."

I said, and smiled.

"Timothy stop it." I said, and started laughing.

We were sitting in front of his house. The date was June, 1795.

I have always been frozen from the day i got turned by my sister, so i looked like a 15 year old.

Timothy was 10 years at that time. We were ultimate best friends, and he didn't really care that i was older than him.

We did everything together.

"Timothy?" I said to him, and he turned his head towards me.

"What is it Chath?" He asked, and looked at me.

He was way smarter than the average 10 year old, and quickly understood that something was wrong.

"I have to go away for some time." I said, looking at the grass.

"Why. Where are you going?" He asked, and got a sad look on his face.

"I am going on a holiday with my family, and i dont think i'll be back in some years."

I said, still not wanting to look at his sad face. I heard that he was crying, and i turned around.

"Can i at least get a goodbye hug?" I asked him, and he gave me a long hug.

I felt my shoulder getting wet from the tears, and i got a little sad too.

"Bye best friend." I said.

That was the last thing i said to him for 4 years.

(The date is 1799.) I knocked on the door, and waited for a while.

"Hold on." I heard a voice saying from inside, and i heard the sound of the lock getting turned around.

"Hi." I said, and Timothy stared at me.

"Where the HELL have you been?" He asked. He always asked that, even when i were late for school.

"Im sorry, the holiday lasted a while." I said, hoping he didn't realise i looked exactly the same.

He continued staring at me, and gave me a hug.

"Oh my god Chatherine. I have missed you so much." I heard him say, and i knew he was crying a bit.

Timothy had always been the emotional type.

I liked the fact that he wasn't ashamed of crying in front of a girl.

Editors note: The year is now 2016 again

I was getting bored. The moon was going down, and the horrible, painful sun was coming back up.

Timothy was still laying on the floor, and Laura had gone to bed.

"Oh, shit!" I heard from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something breaking.

I sighed, and stood up.

When i opened the door, George was standing in the middle of the floor, with pieces of broken glass surrounding him.

"Hi, Chath." He said, and tried walking over the glass, without stepping on it.

I smiled, and tried really hard not to burst out laughing.

George was a ghost from the 1800s, wearing a kitchen apron and oven mittens.

Also, he was surrounded by pieces of broken glass, and lasagna.

"W-wh-hat a-are you doin-ng?" I managed to say inbetween the waves of laughter.

He looked at me the way a puppy looks like when it wants food, and started laughing.

"I was trying to make lasagna for your friend, because the only chef in the house is passed out cold on the floor."

He said, and i started laughing too. George stepped over the glass, and walked over to me.

"Are you okay?" He asked me, with a serious look on his face.