Ghost

Peace at a Cost

Danny stared up at the ceiling in his room, the glow in the dark stars blurring and spinning before him. He was nothing. Nothing for fourteen years. Then he died. The end. Lab accident. It's over. But it wasn't. And it took dying for Danny to be someone. To be a hero. And red blood slowly seeped and poured from the wound on the side of his stomach. It was staining his clothes and bed.

He was calm. Abnormally calm. He was no one for fourteen years. Then he was a hero. He protected and saved enough. Every part of him was okay with this. He got caught. Okay. He floated home and laid down.

So now he was just going to lay down and finally sleep. Because, god, it's been a while since he's slept. So he'll just close his eyes and sleep. Yes, that sounds nice. A nap. Sleeping.

The stars grew hazy and his vision was overtaken by black. He heard a ear-splitting scream, and he was gone.

He sat in a café, his normal coffee in hand, in his ghost form. He stared at the empty chalk bored on the other side of the bar. The café was empty besides him, and on the coffee cup in the name place it read no one.

He felt a wedge of peace as everything faded black and blurred. He closed his eyes.