The Ghost's Diary 👻 ✓

67. Forever Couldn't Break

My left hand touches the dewy grass, while the other clutches the pendant as the leaves swirl away.
Times passes. Knees still on the ground, only jolting to look back at the new coming visitors.

The low sun hides itself underneath the lake's surface as a girl and boy paddle towards the willow tree. The boy plays with a goofy smile while blindfolding the girl's joking grunts with his hands.

But it's not the sun completing reverting back its time that makes hope and nostalgia radiate from me:
It's the blue eyed girl and green eyed boy. Mum and Dad. Only a few years older than I am now.

"The hint for the fifth memory is not ours to give, Lindsey. The hint will reveal itself to you."

My knees straighten themselves and arms go to my skirts with a grin wider than I'd like to admit. Forgetting all the sorrows and woes for a second. Forgetting even the ashes and wounds.

Why am I even seeing the fifth memory without Dylan, Allie and Ethan...

The cheshire cat grin lowers itself, as the pendant waves about like a pendulum against my crack. The crack doesn't hurt. It's just there. Hollow.

"Leshy, I swear I'll put your head on a spike if you gift me something expensive," Mum grumbles-- Dad's hands still on her eyes.

He rolls his own and mimics,
"I know you'll do just that, sylph."

A small smile comes out because of their using of leshy and sylph.

A leshy's a green eyed forest deity in... Slavic mythology, I think.
Sylphs are air spirits.

"Thank goodness, but that still doesn't exempt you from one." Mum says-- her own hands on Dad's and the distance between them almost non-existent.

I look away for the sake of my parents' intimacy.

That sounded very weird...

Dad turns and glances at the willow tree.

A bouquet is hidden behind the willow tree, and the journal at the tree's front. No one paying attention to the latter.

Dad slowly removes his hands, while Mum blinks at her surroundings.

"Why are we at the hill at this hour? What if my parents woke up by all those pebbles you threw at my window?" Mum places her hands on her hips and turns to Dad. Who quickly averts his gaze from the bouquet. She squints her eyes at him with a jovial smile, but lets him cover his stuttering with a smirk.
"We both know your parents wouldn't wake up even if there was an air raid. Just like mine."

My fingers play with themselves, while Mum rolls her eyes.

They's so... different than what I'm used to yet... they're still the same...

What a paradox.

I shake my head at my own subconscious.

Mum... she's still like I remember but with a teenage touch that I have, too.

And Dad... he seems less...

I tilt my head.

... less broad shouldered but still with the same cardboard posture I have.

Though, his seems less stern and monitor-like than mine.

"Also... you once said there isn't a spot in London you haven't seen," Dad words shake my reverie and make Mum open her mouth. He beats her to it with an enormous wave of arms.
"But you'll see what I mean in a few minutes..."
His ears start reddening as soon as he finishes and Mum places a hand on her lips-- hiding away her snickers.