The Boy in the Photograph ↪ Brallon

Chapter 19; Razzmatazz

That night the two boys slept in entangled limbs. Wispy streams of breath painted each others neck invisibly. They clung to each other as best as a human could hold a tainted soul as he could. And Dallon was trying damn hard.

The same night however the two pronged thorn in Brendon's side grew larger. His fever dreams were nearly unbearable. Walls of fire could be seen as far as the eye. Human bones cackled menacingly They mocked and pointed fun at Brendon. Their words an undecipherable drone to his ears, and with no lips to read on their toothy skulls Brendon assumed the worst of their spewed sentences Word as meaningless as stale air. But presenter made Brendon uneasy.

In his dream he felt an aura. Not the usual human scented one. Not a calm alluring one like Dallon's. It was menacing, full of ill intent. Brendon felt all this energy directed point blank on his entire being. He spun left and right to find the body giving off these waves but no matter how far Brendon ran and searched there was no one. Just more skeletons and souls of the damned mocking him.

The ghost boy stirred uncomfortably in Dallon's arms. The shifting woke the taller boy up and he looked around to see what was wrong. He first saw the time, reading still digital numbers of 3:13AM Then he looked down to Brendon squirming.

"Bren!" He shook the boy's shoulder, his other arm still tucked under his waist. "Brenny wake up its just bad dream." Brendon still remained entrapped in his nightmare. "Brendon!" Dallon shouted this time maybe bit too loudly. The ghost boy shot up in their wrinkled bed with wide eyes. Brendon's horns throbbed rapidly and the tips were glowing a dull white shade, the bases extending and reaching a larger hight than the day before. His bangs appeared to be wet against his forehead but Dallon honestly couldn't be too sure.

"Bren, hey it's alright. It was just bad dream." Dallon scooted closer to Brendon, his shirt sometime through the night had been discarded but his pants remained as Brendon still radiated cold somehow.

"I'm right here." Dallon opened his arms for Brendon to climb back into. But the younger boy refused. Too shaken up he rose from the bed and looked down in shame putting his hands up and waved them back and forth in a gesture of refusal. He felt unfit for Dallon, a waste, useless in this form. Thoughts of uncertainty clouded his mind as he still tried to run from the invisible monster from his nightmare.

"I-I can't right now. I'm sorry Dallon." He floated more away from his love. "Just go to sleep without me, I'll be back later." He turned his back to Dallon.

"Promise?" He raised his head finally to meet Dallon's sorrow filled deep sea eyes.

"Promise." Brendon reassured. His eyes too equal as sunken.

Brendon left and decided his window would be the best place for him right now to clear his mind.

Dallon slumped down into his bed laying on his back. He starred at the ceiling for some time, wishing for sleep to overcome him.

In his windowsill Brendon waited for nothing. He just wanted these terrible thoughts and feelings to leave him. The growing pains on his forehead finally began to catch up with him and he just wanted to rip these stupid horns out of his head. Maybe then, he thought, these bad things would stop happening to him and Dallon.

Blaming his problems on his horns was indeed a silly thing to do but Brendon couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Brendon?" It was an old voice. A frail female spoke to him.

"Hello?" He responded, unsure if he was still dreaming yet again. No physical form could be seen anywhere that contained the voice.

"This is Sarah." This of course meant nothing to him. He didn't know who Sarah was, but soon enough he would never be able to forget her. "I'm a friend of Dallon's." She said happily.

"Oh, thats nice I guess." Brendon shrugged still not sure how he was speaking to this woman but continued nonetheless.

"I have a present for you." She said, malice creaked into her words.

"How do you even know about me?" Brendon's blood was beginning to boil.

"I have magical powers...of some sort." Sarah said strangely.

"Okay? What is it? If you know about me you know I'm a ghost, and they can't exactly touch or grab anything." Brendon spoke more slowly to try and calm himself down.

"Don't worry, I kept that in mind. Its specially made just for you Brendon. All you have to do is get your apartment door open and I will bring it in for you." Sarah smiled wickedly to no one in particular.

"Uh-mm, I think I can do that..." Brendon got up from his spot rested comfortably on the windowsill and floated to the door. He rose his hands in front of him, closing his eyes Brendon concentrated heavily on the task in front of him. He felt his head and the horns growing on top of it throbbing horribly. His finger nails grew and his skin darkened on his arms to his elbows and he felt his shoulders begin to burn in places they had never hurt before.

The door swung open with a loud bang, the handle making a hole in the plaster behind it. Sarah came in swiftly and starting speaking what Brendon could only identify as Latin, or some other ancient language, certain words drove him more to Latin but he had other things to worry about. The wicked witch carried a book in front of her, weathered and worn much like herself.

Dallon had never gone back to sleep after Brendon had woken him up. He had layed there nearly asleep but he heard Brendon's voice just as he was slipping into sleep and his ghost boys voice kept him awake. And now that his front door had been opened forcefully He was out of bed and dressed in a dirty shirt quicker than a puddle of water on a hot southern country road evaporating in pure summer heat. He bounded into the living room and the sight in front of him made the tall boy week to his knees.

Brendon was on the ground writhing in only what Dallon could amuse was pain. He screamed and his limbs contorted, strange lumps were poking from his white shirt. But the worst part was his face, it was elongated and certain parts of his skin were raised into strange tribal patterns long fangs made their way out of his mouth and tears were soaking him to the bone. Brendon's horns were a tremendous size now and Dallon felt his chest starting to get tight, harder and harder to breath. Better yet, Sarah could be seen in front of the distressed ghost boy seemingly conducting the whole puppet show.

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