Freddie

George

George...

George sniffled and rolled over in his sleep.

George!

He sat up quickly and was immediately attacked with a pounding headache.

"What the hell?" he muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He gasped and scrambled backward as he saw his brother Fred smirking at him from the other side of the room. Too shocked to move, he sat, breathing heavily, against the headboard of his bed. Fred's image blew away like smoke in the wind. Shaking his head, George slumped back down under his thick blanket.

"Probably just another hallucination. Been having a lot of those lately," he reasoned with himself. He had been imagining these sorts of things more and more. It probably had something to do with the sheer amount of firewhisky he had been consuming lately. George reached under his bed and pulled out a flask of said firewhisky. He winced as it, true to its name, made its burning way down his throat. He got out of bed and pulled on a jumper and sneakers, careful not to disturb the girl in his bed. Kaci or Kadie or something, he couldn't remember. Quietly, he padded out to his balcony and inhaled a huge breath of the crisp night air. Dreams and visions of his brother had been haunting him for years, but in the last month, they had gotten significantly longer and more intense. George suddenly had an idea. A crazy idea, certainly, but an idea all the same.

"I must be mad," he whispered to himself. "Fred? Fred, are you here?" he yelled. He got no response other than the distant sound of sirens cutting through the silence of the night.

"I know this is probably insane, but I feel like you're here... That should be impossible since you're, well, you know, dead-" his voice cracked, "and no one in their right mind would choose to stay as a ghost, but you've never been one to do the boring thing, have you?" George sighed and rested his arms on the rail, making a gesture that was almost in prayer.

"Anyway, if you are here or you can hear me, please give me a sign. Anything! Please!" he yelled, growing desperate. Losing all control, George began to sob, shudders running through his body. He had known that it was a long shot and told himself not to get his hopes up, but he had done so all the same. He finally regained his composure and decided to stay outside for a while longer.

What could have been seconds, minutes, or hours later for all George knew, he felt arms wrap around his waist.

"Come back to bed," she whispered, warm air stirring the hair around his ear. George turned around to face the girl.

"Look," he said, "no offense, but I think its best if you go now-" he made a split-second decision, "Kristina."

"It's Katherine!" she exclaimed, obviously hurt.

"Right, Katherine," George said, mentally kicking himself.

"You arsehole!" the girl yelled, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. George sighed and flopped back into his bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He rapidly fell into an uneasy sleep, filled with memories that he would rather stay buried. On the balcony where he had been just moments earlier, a vase of flowers fell off of a table. George, of course, didn't hear this in his drink induced slumber. Somewhere, so close to where he was yet so far away, the Veil was lifting, and things were stirring that had been asleep for a long time.