Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Eternal ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Author's Note: I am so sorry this has taken so long. I had the idea for the Elementals story, and it sort of took over my mind. I'll try to balance out my time between the two stories from now on, but I feel like there is no excuse for waiting six months to get this chapter out. Anyway, here it is.

 

 

Eternal

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Chapter Two

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© 2010 Ohne Sie

 

Callie stared at the boy in shock for a moment before she realized that he expected an answer. “Oh, um…yes. I can see you,” she said. “Sorry. I've just never been in the presence of…” She paused, studying him. “You are a ghost, right, and not some stalker or burglar?”

The boy laughed softly, shaking his head. “Not exactly the reaction I expected from the first person who could see me. Yes, I am a ghost.” He frowned. “Have you seen others before?”

She shook her head. “Nope. You're the first.” Remembering that her family was asleep and how crazy the conversation she was having would probably look to them, she began to whisper. “But I've always wanted to meet a ghost.”

He was still frowning. “I don't understand.”

“What don't you understand?”

“A couple of things. First, why was your first reaction that I was a ghost, and not a burglar or something equally probable? And second…why would you want to meet me?” Subconsciously and unnecessarily, he had also begun to whisper.

“I don't know how to answer your first question. It was just my first thought. You don't look like a burglar.” She paused. “I've just always been kind of interested in ghosts. I think I saw a few when I was younger, but my parents tried to convince me that I imagined them. I don't think I did, though. I'm not imagining you, after all.”

“Unbelievable,” the ghost muttered. “The first person who can see me is absolutely insane.”

“What do you mean?” Callie said, offended. “What kind of thing is that to say to someone you just met?”

“I'm sorry, but it is true. What kind of girl goes around, looking for ghosts, and when she finds one, isn't afraid at all?”

“This kind of girl,” Callie said, pointing to herself. “If that makes me crazy, then so be it. You don't have to talk to me.”

He sighed. “Fine. Let's start over. Hello. My name is William Johnson. Friends called me Will, when I was alive. What is your name?”

“Callie Fox,” Callie said, smiling. “I'd offer you my hand, but I'm pretty sure it would go right through you.”

“It would,” he said. “I've tried it before.”

Callie frowned. “So...how long have you been...you know...dead?”

“I don't know. What year is it?”

“Two-thousand-seven,” she said.

“Eighty years.”

“Eighty years?” Callie asked, astonished. “You've been a ghost for eighty years?”

He nodded. “I was born in 1920. I died in 1927.”

Callie thought for a moment. She debated whether or not to ask the question she was wondering. Finally, she decided it needed to be asked, even if it wasn't very tactful. “How did it happen?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

“You don't?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn't be here right now,” he said bitterly.

“That makes sense,” Callie admitted. “According to the books I read and movies I've watched, spirits are usually anchored to the physical realm due to some unfinished business.”

“That's probably true,” Will said. “All I know is that one night, I went to bed, and the next thing I knew, I was standing downstairs, in the hall, wondering why my mother was weeping and why I couldn't reach out to comfort her.”

“I'm sorry,” Callie said softly. She thought of her own mother, and how she might react if something happened to her or Carrie. As much as she and her mother might disagree, she knew they both loved each other.

“They never even found my body,” Will said.

“Do you know where it is?”

He shook his head. “I know nothing more than the police and my family knew back then. They assumed I ran away.”

“Your parents thought you ran away?”

“No,” Will said. “My parents and brothers thought something awful had happened. They searched the creek behind the house for days, and then they moved the search to the pond, but nothing showed up. The police decided that I was a runaway.”

Callie leaned against the stair railing. “So there were no leads?”

“Apparently not.”

“And you think you're stuck here until someone finds out what happened to you?”

Will nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay,” Callie said, softly clapping her hands together and nodding. “I'll do it.”

Will frowned, confused. “Do...what, exactly?”

“I'll help you,” she said. “I'll solve your murder and let you rest in peace, finally.”

“How?”

“I don't know yet,” Callie said, grinning. “But I'm going to do it, or die trying.” She shrugged. “There must be a reason I can see and talk to you, when no one else can. This is probably my destiny or something.”

“What makes you think you can solve my murder, when the police couldn't? It's been eighty years. Everyone who could have been involved is dead.”

“It will be difficult,” Callie admitted. “But I'll do it.”

Will sighed, shaking his head. “You really are insane.”

“Maybe.” Callie smiled. “I'm also the only person who can help you. Plus, I have an advantage over the police who were investigating your disappearance. I actually know you weren't a runaway. And I have your word to work with.”

“Except that I don't remember anything.”

“Even so, it's better than nothing.” She yawned. “And I don't break my promises.”

“You should go to sleep,” Will said. “We can talk about this in the morning. Maybe you'll realize how ridiculous what you're saying is, then.”

Callie shook her head. “I couldn't possibly sleep now,” she said. “But talking in the hallway seems like a bad idea, too. My parents might wake up and wonder why I'm talking to myself.” She frowned. “You should come in my room. We can talk there.”

Will shook his head. “I can't.”

“Why not?” Callie asked, cocking her head. “Was this room yours or something? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it's nothing like that,” he said. “My room was actually the one your family isn't using as a bedroom.” He frowned. “It's just...it's not how I was raised.”

“But...you're a ghost.”

“I'm still a man...sort of. And you're a woman. It's not proper.”

Callie covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. When she was finally sure she wouldn't, she looked at him. “Seriously? You're the ghost of a seventeen-year-old boy who died eighty years ago, who speaks using modern slang for some reason, and you're concerned with what is proper?” The blank expression on his face made her shake her head. “Nobody would even know. It isn't like they'd see. And I'm not undressing in front of you, or anything.”

“I'd know,” he said stubbornly.

“Fine. I'm not going to bed, then.” She put her hands on her hips defiantly. “We're going to keep talking out here.”

“Fine,” he agreed with a sigh. “What did you want to talk about?”

Callie frowned. “I'm not sure,” she admitted. “Maybe...what was your family like?”

“My father was a doctor. He inherited a lot of money from his father, my grandfather, who had this house built when my father was a child. I think that my parents ended up losing almost all of their money during the Depression, but they moved out of this house before the stock market crashed.”

“That happened in 1929, right? They moved before you had been dead even two years?”

Will nodded. “They couldn't stand living here, with memories of me, not knowing what happened to me. My oldest brother, Sam, moved out only a few months after I died. Eddie, my younger brother, stayed longer, but he moved out, too, shortly before my parents did. Eddie was still trying to find out what happened to me up until the day he left. I'm not sure if he found anything, but I doubt it.”

“And your other brother? Did he search?”

“For a while. For about a month or two, he went out with Eddie and my father, but then he stopped. It led to a heated argument between him and Eddie and my father. He told them that it was pointless to keep searching, because it was obvious I'd run away. Eddie said that if I had run away, it was because of him.”

“Why is that?”

“That,” Will said, frowning, “Is not something I want to talk about.”

“But maybe it could help me find out what happened,” Callie said.

“It won't,” Will said sharply. “I'm not talking about it.”

“Sorry,” Callie mumbled. “Please continue.”

Will shook his head. “I'd rather not,” he said. “I haven't thought about it in so long...after a while, I stopped thinking about anything at all. I don't like thinking, after all this time.”

“So...you want to stop?” Callie said.

“Please.”

Callie sighed. “I guess I understand. It probably hurts to think about what happened.”

“I don't know if 'hurts' is the way I'd describe it. In order for something to hurt, you need to be able to feel pain.”

“And you can't?” she asked.

“How can I? I don't exactly have a body, anymore.”

Callie winced. “I'm so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It isn't your fault. I was just unlucky. I can't say I'm not used to it, by now.”

“No one should have to get used to an existence like that,” Callie said. “I'm even more sure now that I have to help you.” She yawned again.

“Go to sleep, Callie,” Will said. “I promise, I'll be here in the morning. I couldn't leave if I wanted to.”

Callie shook her head, but her eyes were beginning to close on their own. She lost her grip on the railing and almost fell.

“You won't be able to help me at all if you fall down those stairs and die because you were too tired to stand,” Will said.

Callie sighed. “Fine. But if I wake up and find out that this was just a dream, I will be very angry with you, William Johnson.”

“If you wake up and find out this is all a dream, I will be very relieved,” she heard him say just before she opened her door, walked over to her bed, and fell face-first into her pillow.