Red String

002

It was three in the morning and the only sounds that could be heard around Block K of the university hostels were that of gentle snores coming from the students sound asleep in their beds.

Jun was standing next to the window in one of the third floor rooms, sullenly watching the lump under the blanket heave up and down in a rhythmic pattern. A thin, red thread was peeking out from beneath the blanket, wriggling its way down the bed, along the floor and right past him—out through the open window and probably towards some hospital morgue. A pair of shiny, golden scissors hung limply from his right hand, glinting under the moonlight.

He had been trying to cut that damn string for a good two hours now but still it refused to snap. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at that ugly, red snake. It was mocking him, he was sure of it.

Jun let out a deep sigh and sank down onto Gemma's swivel chair, shoulders sagging despondently. He knew the appropriate thing to do now was to go back to headquarters and report the incident so that one of the senior faeries could come and solve this knotty problem, but his pride was stopping him from doing just that.

This is your first assignment, that little devil on his shoulder was whispering into his ear. If you go back now, everyone will brand you as a failure! You'll be relegated to the dusty storerooms winding up balls of string and the boss will never give you another assignment again.

He couldn't just go back like this.

At the very least he had to untie the string so that he could bring the card back to the assignments office and demand to know why they had given him a card with a dead man's name on it. Then, it wouldn't have been his fault—the blame would lie solely with the chaps at the assignments office.

Just when he was lost in his own thoughts, a white shadow and a chilly breeze floated past him. Jun instinctively looked up, and then he screamed and fell off the chair.

Standing in front of him was a translucent figure—he could see right through the guy to the League of Gods poster that was plastered on the wall. It was a ghost. He was actually looking at a blooming ghost.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" he yelled, covering his eyes with his hands. The temperature in the room had suddenly dropped a couple of notches and he couldn't tell whether he was shivering because of the cold or because he was about to wet his pants.

The ghost looked down at the cowering figure on the floor, tilting his head in bewilderment.

"You can see me?"

"Of course I can see you! Why else would I be talking to you?" Jun shrieked. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then opened some gaps between his fingers so that he could peek at the spirit. There was something familiar about the pale face that was staring down at him—the floppy fringe, angular jawline and almond-shaped eyes...

"Oh my bloody warthogs!" Jun exclaimed, leaping up to his feet. "It's you!"

"You know me?" the ghost asked quizzically.

"You're him! Hayden Chung!"

That was why he found the ghost so familiar. This was his ghost. The fellow that had been alive and kicking less than twelve hours ago until a reckless black Honda rammed him down right outside the university gates.

"Uhh I think you've got the wrong guy," the ghost replied. "Who are you and how is it you can see me? No one else seems to be able to."

"Of course no one can see you. You're a blooming ghost for goodness sakes. And if you're wondering why I can see you, that's because I'm a— Wait a minute, what did you just say?"