The beginning of an end.

Well, I've been writing this story about people.

It's taken me quite long, and I've been told not to type it and I've been told to give up and I've been told to burn the book.

It's a short story, it's a blunt story, and I'm posting the first half.

I haven't typed the second, but this is what I have.

But I'll make the cast easier.

Mr. Morbid - The sun.

Miss Kelsey Whynot - The moon, Kelsey, or ZOOMrocks as you might know her, is the inspiration for Miss Whynot.

Miss Alexandra Outoftime - Myself. The first person, but not the main charactor. A bystander of something unlikely.

Miss Sarah Simplicity - x.Bleachie. Sarah. My friend. Lives near us ; family.

Miss Brittany Murder - Trainwreck. Not the Demi Lovato song. brittany She's there too.

And that's all you need to know for the beginning, and there's more new people in the second half.

So with this one or it's successor, if you look close enough, you might stumble across yourself.

.On a grey street called Freemont,

Four houses sit in a line,

Where live Mr. Juvenile, Miss Simplicity, Miss Murder,

And Alexandra Outoftime.

 

And so sat we,

Beneath the tree,

Where we’d be staying for a while,

Miss Murder and me,

Mr. Morbid and Miss Simplicity,

All of our ghosts, and Mr. Juvenile.

 

Mr. Morbid was the first on Freemont,

Though the reason’s quite simple, really,

Our dear Mr. Morbid is the sun.

 

The shafts of sunlight, when cast right, make the shape of a man, and though we’ve fraught, he’s replaced by Miss Whynot,

The moon, who comes every now and then.

 

And the dark tree cast shade that would pass through Mr. Morbid, golden light, But he needn’t move, for time he would lose, because either way he’d be gone by night.

 

And so we sat as the ever-grey afternoon crashed around us. Mr. Morbid, nothing but light and a soul, he’s brilliantly gold, and the only colour we saw. The neighborhood around us was nothing more than a street, with four houses on one side, trees on the other, and a hill where the road ends. And on that hill is a tree, and under the tree is where we sat every afternoon to see Mr. Morbid off.

 

Gathered below the tree we sat, in the dry grass, Mr. morbid crossing his head and leaning up against the grayish tree, resting his head, the bare branches above him casting shadowed slits into him like prison bars.

 

“Mr. Morbid, you’re fading.” Said Miss Murder, sounding worried. He sighed.

“The day’s almost over and I’m in no hurry.”

 

And as fading sunlight he sat,

His yellow suit, yellow hat,

Yellow face, golden hair,

Amber eyes with an amber stare.

 

“So, Mr. Juvenile, we’ve been taking classes at the hospital.” Said Miss Simplicity.

“Oh?” He asked, raising his brow.

Mr. Juvenile was forever wearing a black mourning suit and always looked unhappy.

Not as if we all didn’t.

Miss Sarah wore a black dress that fell halfway down her legs. It had white ruffles coming from below the skirt and above the form-fitting torso, making the shirt puff out as though it were dancing around her knees. Her hair was straight and her eyes were rimmed and she was beautiful.

Miss Brittany Murder was the youngest, most innocent of us. She had a grey dress with a thin, wispy flower design across it. She had light brown hair and dark eyes.

I wore a simple white dress. It had a black ribbon and bow about the waist and sleeves. My hair was curly, messy, and often got into my eyes.

 

“Look.” Said Mr. Morbid, gazing out over the hill, past the trees, over the fading sky, and to the soft moon.

“You see, I can see her, and I know she isn’t looking. But, in the time that she’s here, in this spot, I’ll be gone.” He said.

 

“You can’t see her, can you? I mean, I can’t.” Said Mr. Juvenile. Mr. Morbid sighed.

 

“I know, but I can dream.

I can dream but I can’t sleep.

I can close my eyes, but I’m still forced to see.

I can listen to music, but you can never find me singing.

I can hope, whether or not it’ll be true.”

 

That’s rather irrational, isn’t it?” I asked him.

 

“Well, Miss Outoftime,” he said, now nothing more than a pale, warm glow., “I may light the sky every day, I may not be human, I may bring day to the world, I may be able to promise that if the world ends today, there will still be a tomorrow, but still, I’m only a man.”

And with that, he dimmed, and as he tipped his hat to us, the sun set.

 

“so why, exactly, have you been taking classes at the hospital?” Mr. Juvenile asked.

“We’ve been learning to mend broken hearts.” Said Miss Simplicity.

There was a brief, stifling moment of awaiting silence .

“Ah.” Mr. Juvenile said, standing up. “Must be off. Business to attend to.” And he strode down the hill and out of our sight.

 

“Would you terribly mind if I spent the night at your house tonight?” I asked Miss Simplicity.

Nights spent at my home, the one between Mr. Juvenile’s and Miss Simplicity’s were most unpleasant. All of the ghosts of my past reside there, sometimes, and throw themselves about the house when they appear.

 

“Of course you can.” She said, looking at the half moon, “And Miss Brittany, I suppose you’re welcome as well.”

Miss Murder nodded.

 

Later that night, as we were sitting in the kitchen of Miss Simplicity’s house, it began to rain. Shouting and yelling emitted from the attic upstairs. One of Sarah’s ghosts.

“Quiet yourself, Bryant!” Sarah shouted.

Just then, a young man, who was translucent, almost clear, a thin, white, wispy colour, a dead, floated down from above the ceiling, lazily hovered downwards, stopped, sitting on the table that we were gathered around.

“I don’t want to.” Bryant pouted. Bryant, common in Sarah’s home, was a ghost that most of us were rather familiar with.

“Well, Mr. Bryant, I’ll let you join us down here if you’ll hush.” She said.

 

“Okay.” He said, delighted. He faded beneath the table and popped back up again in the chair between Miss Murder and I.

“So I got quite a lot accomplished today, Miss Sarah, while you were out and about.” Said Bryant, pretending to daintily sip tea.

“Oh?” She said, wondering. At times, Mr. Bryant’s plans could go… Askew.

“Well, I spoke to Alex’s cousin for a while, I ate some of the bats in your attic, I found some forever-old photographs, I tried making communications with a cat, I removed Miss Desiree’s heart, I mailed some letters-“ Mr. Bryant was cut off.

 

“You WHAT?” Sarah exclaimed.

“Mailed some letters?” Bryant asked, confused.

“You killed Miss Desiree?” I asked.

“Oh, that? Of course. Took her heart right out of her chest. It’s all warm and fluttery… Would you like to see?” he asked fondly.

Brittany fainted next to him.

 

“Bryant! What have I told you about this?” Sarah shouted.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I really am, but look!” He said, pulling out a small box. He opened it with his translucent hand. As soon as the box had the thinnest of openings, an earsplitting shriek issued from it.

“BRYANT!” it roared.

“Uh oh.” He muttered quickly, trying to squeeze it back closed, too late.

Exploding from the box was another ghost, a girl.

Desiree.

 

“Bryant, look what you’ve done!” She stormed, wagging the small, still-beating object in his face.

“Well, I’m sorry!” He said, offended.

“Oh, you will be!” She said, launching herself towards him. He sunk beneath the floor so she missed, flying through the wall on the opposite side. She gave another howl from the other room, and she stepped back through the wall to us, angrily composed.

“I’m staying here.” She said simply, not yet defeated. And she disappeared into the above ceiling.

“Is she gone?” Came a soft whisper from Bryant, who had just popped his head up from below the floor.

 

 

 

 

The next day,

We three girls sat around Sarah’s table that morning. We looked out the window, watching the summer wind blow, as the sunlight began forming. It had been a long night, but to Miss Simplicity’s delight, the loud noises above subsided. So as an agreement, we stepped onto Freemont, and began our journey to the hillside. Jordan had already been there quite long with Mr. Morbid, white light, new and strong.

 

“She never sees me!”

Cried Mr. Morbid, arms raised, with a wild, worn look on his face.

“She can’t see me and I can’t see her and I’ll never get out of this place!”

 

“I wonder.” Said Sarah, looking up at the newly golden sky, thin, white wisps of clouds floating lazily from one side of the world to the other.

“What do you wonder, Miss Simplicity?” Asked Brittany, looking up fondly beside her.

“Something’s got to happen. Something’s always got to happen.” Said Miss Simplicity, and she stood, and walked away, probably to be alone. Gone.

 

 

 

Later, we left. Brittany left, I left, Jordan left, but only after Mr. Morbid himself left, and darkness, slowly and quietly, engulfed Freemont along with all of us.

 

 

 

I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t, usually, but I didn’t tell the other. They’d worry.

 

So I stared out of the window and watched. And I though. Lately I’d been thinking a lot about Mr. Morbid and Miss Whynot, the moon. He said he’d been in love with her forever, and I knew he always would be.

 

If Mr. Morbid could sleep, I imagine that he’d dream, mostly about her.

She never knew anyone, I’d guess. She brought night, but mostly darkness, wherever she went, so while everyone in the world slept softly, soundly, she’d wander around, and not that I knew for sure, but I think she looked lost.

Lost.

And now as I looked outside of my window, I watched her pure, silvery light in the shape of a woman, a beautiful woman, being shone down from the sky, the only bright, diamond light amidst the darkness. She resembled a ghost, but there was something stronger about her, more brilliant about her, that made her the moon.

 

And she sat beneath the tree where Mr. Morbid sat, and I wondered if she knew that.

And I sat in my bed and watched her, being modestly, brilliantly beautiful, and I knew that if Mr. Morbid could, he would too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day came and went swiftly and slowly, with the obvious uncertainty hanging in the air like humidity, fogging my thoughts. Though these days you have to find middle grounds for everything, so I suppose the day was like every other, only completely, totally opposite.

 

Sarah had come to me that afternoon. I hadn’t left the house that morning due to the fact I was having an interesting conversation with my dead cousin Nicola, and nobody in particular wanted me outside anyway.

 

Bust Sarah came later that day, from the hospital, with news. It was not bad news because it brought understanding, but it was not good news because the reality of it was almost worse than not knowing anyway.

 

I had the horrible, incurable disease Cynicism, and I always had, and I always would.

 

 

So I sulked a while.

The ghosts tried to speak but I didn’t listen, most of them tried to get a hold of me, Sarah, Brittany, and even Mr. Morbid. But he can’t go in unless near a window. Jordan just watched their attempts lazily, doing nothing, and I think that is what most drove me to stay inside.

 

That night, again, I couldn’t sleep. An odd ghost called Samantha wouldn’t leave me alone, alone with her friend Michaela who sang in my ear, and besides, I was ill.

“Is it deadly?” I had asked Sarah, knowing that she would know.

“It came be.” She said solemnly, surely.

“Am I going to die?” I asked.

“No.” She said, surely. “Of course not.”

 

I turned over in my bed, away from the window. Miss Whynot was shining very brightly that night.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, I walked down the road until the very end, climbed the hill, and greeted Mr. morbid.

“Miss Simplicity has asked me to fill you in. But you’ll have to walk with me, talk with me.”

 

Nobody else was out beneath the tree yet, but Mr. Juvenile was stirring, so I went with him. We climbed down the other side, the side that did not face Freemont.

But that was the side that Mr. Morbid came from every morning, and Miss Whynot, every evening. It was almost like taking the day back, if only by a few seconds, with the way we were walking in the direction that the sun had come from, but instead we were only walking out of sight of Fremont, something we rarely did.

 

When we were in the woods, thick branches cast dark, jagged breaks through his back and face.

 

There were many trees in those woods, and a black, glassy-looking lake rolling below the eternity of sprawling skies that always seemed to follow us.

 

He slung his arm around my shoulder. The sun resting his arm on your back is a warm, happy feeling. Like home.

 

“So.” He stated as we both sat at the edge. “Mr. Juvenile.” He said, almost laughing, looking pleasantly intrigued, smiling in his own beautiful way, whether he knew he was beautiful or not.

“Yes?” I asked him, knowing what he would say.

“I suppose you recall his medical condition?” he said, staring up at where Miss Whynot could have been. Broken Hearts were not common, but not unheard of.

:Well, Miss Sarah has asked me to inform you that she would like you three girls to perform the procedure tonight.” And he stood up and walked back up the hill towards Jordan’s annoyed cried of why the sun was not present.

 

Whispers of us – me, Brittany, and Miss Sarah, especially, - grasped at me as I climbed the hill to meet them. When Jordan saw me, he gave me a look that expressed his desire to tell me to turn around and walk back into the dark woods from where I’d come.

 

Mr. Morbid turned towards the footsteps on the other side of the hill.

Sarah quietly asked me if I had been told and I said yes, whilst Jordan seemed not to notice or care about the exchange.

 

“You know, I’m troubled.” He said, as though he were speaking to an audience. “I’d like to stay here, just one night. One night couldn’t hurt the alignment of the universe, but it seems as through the world is ripping me away.”

 

And just like every night, the world would pull Mr. Morbid away from us again, but until then, we sat, and we forgot about the unpleasant things then, if only for a little while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That night I went home to find a ghostly girl in my front room with a bloody axe sticking out from the back other head. I sighed.

“Hello, Alison.” I said. She smiled.

“I saw you jump that time.” She said. I sighed again. It had been her death’s purpose to scare me, but I’d really come to like her.

I'm typing the rest soon, if the notebook doesn't miraculously catch fire.

But that's what I have now.

<3 I love it Even though i die i do love it :] <3 You have a talent there i tried doing a book once but it turned out bad x.x <3 I love you

Love it, Alex. It's great.

I love it ^_^

I really like to read the rest of it.

Half two.

“You must’ve been imagining it.” I said, walking across the room.

“Well, did I surprise you at all?” She asked, looking disappointed.

“You know it’s always a pleasant surprise to see you.” I said. Alison looked crestfallen.

She sank through the wall to the other side where I was going.

 

I was greeted by the sight of a host of ghosts gathered around my kitchen table, sitting, talking. There was Diva, a girl with a noose around her neck, Vivienne, a large dagger of some sort sticking out form where her heart would be, Michaela, holding hands with a gun and a bullet in head, Tori, with gashes across her neck, Skyler, who’d died of drowning and shrieked every time water was put near her, and Emma, who had a large, thick gash across her back that I thought impolite to ask about.

 

In truth, I was happy to see them, I was always happy to see them. It can be rather unpleasant meeting new ghosts, because most of them carry their cause around with them and are rather proud about it. (“Isn’t it horrible?” Alison had said to be when I first met her, grinning, showing me the large axe wound.) But whether they talk about it or not, it can be rather unnerving the first few times they pop into your bedroom. But I was used to it, very used to it, and I was happy to see them.

Emma saw me first, and she grinned at me happily.

“Hi Alex.” She said, and everyone looked up.

I got an individual greeting from all of them, and a chain of hugs. Individually, one of them was almost always here, but every so often all of them would come at once. But of course they had other places to be – where, exactly, I have no idea, – but other places.

 

It’s interesting being hugged by a ghost. I’m not sure whether they can actually feel me or not, but I suppose it’s the general idea. They’re pleasantly cool and light, almost misty. Brittany seems rather frightened of the feeling, actually, but I’m quite fond of it.

 

“Everyone… Sarah’s going to be expecting me about midnight. I’m sorry.” I announced. There was a chorus of disappointed sounds. Most of them said they had to go later, but Alison and Diva could stay. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the upcoming Heart issue, but being surrounded by my friends, my family, people I felt like that I’d known for my entire life, even before then, axes, death and all, I was perfectly, wonderfully content.

 

Firs Emma had to leave, she began to fade, left us with her love, and the seat she’d been sitting in that her pale glowing body had previously lit darkened. The same happened with Michaela, so Samantha and Nicola replaced their seats.

 

And the large clock chimed midnight, though it felt like a big thud in the pit of my stomach. I stood from the table. “I love you”s and “I’ll miss you”s were exchanged, and I met Sarah out on Freemont so we could fix a broken heart.

 

To be short, we went up his stairs and to where he was sleeping, he had a dotted outline on his chest where his heart was, we all have one. We preformed the procedure like we had been told. With a needle and thread, Sarah stitched up the big, jagged gash in his heart where all the over leaked out like blood. She stitched him back up, fixed him, and we left the house. It went fine. He still didn’t know what we had done.

 

When I came home and went to bed, I didn’t sleep. It must have been my illness. So I stared at Miss Whynot under Mr. Morbid’s tree.

 

Suddenly, a whitish-grey figure floated up beside me. Diva.

“How do you think it went?” She asked me. I shrugged, still lying on my back.

“I’m almost afraid to know.” I answered honestly. She smiled.

“If anything goes too wrong, you can always just stab him in the heart with something sharp again.”

I smiled too, and I vaguely recall Alison coming in and talking with Diva, them both leaving, and Miss Whynot looking over to Mr. Juvenile’s house, but some time that night, I slept.

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up the next morning with a bright glare coming through the window. I rolled over. Mr. Morbid was hovering next to my upper-story window.

“Well, finally you’re up.” He said, sounding exhausted. “I’d knock on the window, but, you know…” He said, reaching his sunny arm through the pass and back. I groaned and sat up.

“What is it?”

 

“Miss Outoftime, we may have a problem.” He said. “Miss Simplicity and Miss Murder aren’t awake yet, but I think you’d better come see anyway.” He said.

 

So I met him at my front door as he led me up the hill.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” I asked.

“I think this is just one of the things you’ll have to see…” And he suddenly took a step back from me.

 

As I was still facing Mr. Morbid, I felt a rush of wind beside me and someone throw their arms around me. Someone noticeably taller smiles into my hair.

Jordan.

 

“Alex!” He exclaimed loudly, still hugging me, with the smile in his voice. “I was just telling Mr. Morbid how sorry I am for how terrible I’ve been.”

I just stood there in shock.

“Uh, are you, er, okay?” I asked, not wanting to upset him or excite him or anything because I wasn’t sure how he – whoever this was – would react.

“Okay?” He asked, laughing loudly, kissing me on top of the head like a little sister. “I feel great!” And he started running towards Brittany and Sarah’s house, and as he was running off, Mr. Morbid and I were standing back on the base of the hill, and I was still in shock.

“Frankly,” the sun said, with a quizzical look on his face “I’m a bit worried.”

 

Sarah came rushing towards us after he had moved from her house to Brittany’s. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly open, probably how I looked.

“He came in when I was eating and I though he was trying to strangle me because he found out what we’d done, but he was actually hugging me! He hugged me and laughed and told me thank you! It was really frightening, actually.”

 

We heard a surprised shriek come from Miss Murder’s house, followed by Jordan walking out with a smile on his face.

“I woke her.” He said.

 

“So… You’re not mad at us?” Sarah asked as she, Jordan, Mr. Morbid and I walked up the hill towards the tree.

“Angry?” He asked, sounding shocked. “Actually, I’m rather horrified that you would perform heart surgery on me without even telling me, but I’m terribly, terribly glad you did.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, that was strange, wasn’t it?” Allie laughed as I came home to find her on my front porch that night. I nodded, and stepped inside.

 

In my front room, I saw Corey and Stephanie, two ghosts that I saw on occasion, playing a baseball-like game with Stephanie’s severed heard and a large wooden stake that was usually protruding from Corey’s back.

“Hello.” I said, walking into the room. Corey greeted me, and so did Stephanie, but only after he tossed her head back and she popped it back on.

We sat down at the kitchen table for a while, talking. They told me about two ghosts, Bryant and Desiree, that they had encountered close by, that were in love.

“It’s quite sweet, actually.” Stephanie said.

“You really don’t see it that often.” Said Corey.

 

 

We spoke like that a while more. And, by the time I went to bed, Miss Whynot was already wandering outside on Freemont, and I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one thinking about the day that had passed, but, more importantly, the day to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The net morning I was awoken by thunderous laughter coming from atop the hill. As I came towards it, I saw Mr. Morbid and Mr. Juvenile talking and laughing, as though Mr. Morbid was truly entertained by the new Jordan.

 

“Alexandra.” Mr. Morbid said as I approached them.

Jordan said, “It’s a great day.”

 

And so it was.

 

 

 

 

Jordan smiled more than I’d ever seem him smile, Mr. Morbid laughed more than I’d ever seen him laugh, and Sarah seemed happy that all of us were happy, and that rubbed off on all of us. Sarah was happy to see us happy, we were happy to see Sarah happy, and the five of us sat in our own warm bliss, and for that afternoon, Jordan wasn’t angry, Miss Murder wasn’t confused, I wasn’t sick, Sarah wasn’t afraid, and Mr. Morbid was in love.

 

 

 

 

 

That night, I spoke to Miss Whynot. I told her the sun was in love with the moon and she told me she knew, and she told me that something had to happen, something always had to happen, and then she was gone.

It was a dream, but I’d like to think it wasn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day was happy. We, all of us, went out to the glassy lake in the forest behind Freemont. Mr. Morbid walked out to the middle of it, casting his brilliant early light on the ripples of the water, making it cause spectrums all over us. And the mirror-like lake reflected the entire odd, happy scene.

The four of us, ankle-deep in the edge of the water, looking out to a man made of sunlight standing in the middle, the thick line of trees around us, and so many small spectrums that it looked as though it were raining brilliantly lit colours.

 

But early that evening we went back to the hill to greet the evening, just as we always did. We sat beneath the tree that had pinkish-white flowers occasionally floating down onto us. It was as though Freemont had been revived, and the colours around us had suddenly flickered to life, and it all looked so… Alive.

 

And we sat there a while, and we didn’t notice it at first. All of us – my family – spoke, and we hardly noticed the fact that Mr. Morbid was not fading. He grew to a pure, warm gold, undeterred by grey as he usually was this late in the evening.

“You should have been gone hours ago.” Miss Simplicity said, shock apparent in her voice. He nodded.

“Nothing’s pulling me.”

We looked at the sky. It was still bright, even though it was almost nighttime.

 

“Well… I suppose I should go.” He said. “But I’ll see you off, I guess.”

 

So as we walked back to out houses, Sarah, Brittany, Jordan and I, we came in front of my home when Sarah looked up, and we did too.

 

It was as though the sky was split in half, Mr. Morbid still standing on the hill, looking back at us.

Deep, purplish-black crept across the sky and slightly mingled with the sunsetty-pink that was Mr. Morbid’s sunset. Both colours grew stronger, deeper, the gold turning into a fiery amber, and the dark purple plunging into an indigo darkness. And where the two skies met, there was a bright light, a sparkly metallic that was neither gold nor silver, the diamond-ish glow that gave the illusion that you could see past the sky and to everything beyond it.

 

 

 

All of the ghosts began coming out of the houses, something that they hardly, if ever, have done. It was like a gathering congregation. Emma, Vivienne, Alison, Tori, Skyler, Stephanie, Corey, Nicola, Michaela, and Samantha all stood on top of my roof, staring at the clashing sky. At Brittany’s house, a man and a woman were standing on the corner, also on looking, along with three young girls on her from porch, with a cat playing in the yard. At Jordan’s house, there were more ghosts than I had ever seen before. I had rarely been inside his house, like Brittany and Sarah, and I had no idea that he had this many ghosts. Every inch of space was covered, women, men, children, and animals gathered in the yard, on the roof, and looking out of windows. The group of stony-faced people looked at the sky. In Sarah’s garden, there were people sitting, cross-legged among the flowers, and to my surprise, Bryant and Sarah were floating a few inches off the roof, holding hands.

 

 

And like us, all of us, we watched the sky as Mr. Morbid himself grew brighter.

 

 

And suddenly, simultaneously, it dawned upon all of us what was happening, what would happen.

 

“It’s an eclipse.” Jordan whispered.

 

An eclipse.

 

 

And it seemed as though the ghosts knew too, we knew, and maybe Mr. Morbid did too, but we weren’t sure.

 

And then we saw her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was dark an light outside at the same time, night and day, light, but stars still glittered across the sky as though they were watching too. Stretches of coloured light moved across the sky, echoing, but peaceful, changing, moving. And from where he stood, he saw her walk, almost float, up the hill towards him, her feet a few inches from the ground.

 

 

And she reached the top.

 

 

They stood only a few feet apart from each other, Mr. Morbid and Miss Whynot, the sun and the moon. It was like the shafts of light that were their bodies were the only light that Freemont saw. The sun and the moon in the sky grew closer, and with every step forward, Mr. Morbid and Miss Whynot grew brighter.

 

Sarah’s hand reached for Jordan’s, but she pulled it back. He bravely grabbed hers, then Brittany’s, and Sarah mine. And there we stood, Jordan, Brittany, Sarah and I, linked by the hands in a brave line as the sun and the moon met.

 

 

Mr. Morbid held a straight face, solid, but there was something in his eyes. He was looking at her deeply, fully. Looking at her face and her long, bright hair dancing around her back, and into her eyes, finally. At last.

 

 

And she looked at him.

And she wasn’t alone.

 

 

And at that moment, everyone witnessed something. The congregation of ghosts, me, Sarah, Jordan, Brittany, Miss Whynot, and Mr. Morbid, and even the bright stars that seemed to be watching, saw, in that moment, the sun and the moon falling in love.

 

Mr. morbid said something to her, and we couldn’t hear. We only saw her fall bravely into his arms. And he held her in a way that was keeping here there, almost protecting her. His face was still strong and sure, and he rested it atop her head. His eyes shut as they stood there.

 

But he put his head up, and he held her closer, and she closed the last space between them and the light where they touched was the strong, metallic glare like in the sky.

 

 

And the sun kissed the moon.

 

 

 

And even though the sky was dark, you could see the dark houses and trees, all of out ghosts, and you could probably see the four of us too, if you happened to be there at the time.

 

And as soon as their lips parted, there was a loud crack behind us.

 

We all turned. Mr. Morbid and Miss Whynot looked up, still in each others’ arms. All of the ghosts turned, and the four of us looked.

 

My front window had cracked.

 

 

 

I felt a pushing, a strong force, a pulling, something ripping me away, the only thing anchoring me being Sarah’s hand. And I took a last look at Mr. Morbid and Miss Whynot, the sun and the moon, all of Freemont, and my family, and I let go of Sarah’s hand.

 

 

 

I felt a rushing, a parting, and falling. And a hard thud of a landing. Everything was quiet then. I rolled over. I was lying on cold, light blue tile. My feet were under a sink and my head was propped against a wall and my hard was resting on the corner where the tile and the wall met. I saw what I was wearing. A dark-washed pair of jeans, a white t-shirt . Not my dress. I touched the lump on the back of my head where it hit the tile. My hair was the same tangled curls. I saw that I was in a bathroom, near a window where late-afternoon light was coming in.

 

 

 

 

 

And I remembered.

 

 

 

 

 

One afternoon – How long ago had it been? – I got angry, angry at my sister, Sam, and my mother. I went into the bathroom, slamming the door. I gripped the edge of the sink and looked up, expecting to look back into my own ridiculously angry face, but where the mirror should have been, there was a window. Struck by curiosity, I popped my head out. It was attached to a house I had never been to, in a place that I didn’t even know had existed. A place called Freemont.

 

So I climbed out of the window and I looked around, but I went back in, expecting to find myself back in my own bathroom, but I was in a bedroom of the house I had climbed out of. So for a long while, a climbed back and forth through the window, hoping to find myself back home.

 

But I never did.

So I stayed there.

 

A thought occurred to me, so I stood up and looked above the sink. There was no window. Just a large mirror with a large crack in it. And myself.

I looked the same.

 

How long had a been at Freemont? A month, a year, or a lifetime, I wasn’t sure. It must have been forever, right?

And the entire time I was there, though I thought nothing of it at the time, and apparently neither did anyone else, but none of us had aged.

There was a loud rap on the door.

 

My sister Samantha stepped in.

“Alex? Look, I know you’re mad, but mom told me to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

I just looked at her, shocked. Had no time passed?

Sam sighed.

“Fine, I’ll just tell her that you’re sick or something. You look like you need sleep.” And she stepped out.

 

I took one last look at myself, and walked back to my room. It was just as I had left it.

Nothing had changed.

 

 

I slept deeply that night.

 

 

I woke up so early the next morning that it was still dark out. I looked outside. There was a street, a bunch of houses, the people I didn’t know probably still in there sleeping, the man at the end of his street I didn’t know already mowing his lawn, cars in the driveways.

 

It must have all been a dream. I stumbled into the bathroom, still dizzy with sleep, thin morning light starting to come I through the window.

 

I gasped and staggered backwards.

 

 

 

Sitting up against my mirror was a small, grey envelope, with ‘Miss Outoftime’ written in script-like letters on the front.

 

I opened the letter, and there was a simple strong message.

 

 

 

“You are not alone.”

 

 

 

And I knew I wasn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes I still look out of my window in the evening, so I can see the sun set and the moon rise on opposite sides of the world.

And sometimes, I can still see Miss Whynot, the sun and the moon, dancing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End.

Wow. That's. Amazing. Wow. I love it.

Stunning.

I love the writing style, Alex. Old fashioned, but yet modern day.

I love your stories Alex.

I could use help on some of mine, if that doesn't bother you?

I really love that story, Alex.

Breathtaking.

Ahh Ahlex. I've already told you it was brilliant, but I feel the need to tell you again.