I watch it. I watch it as it seems to breathe, as it seems to stagger from standing there for so long. It leans against the wall momentarily, then stands upright once again, distorting its figure as the shadow of leaves do.135Please respect copyright.PENANAEvrRidRokC
"It's okay," I hear myself say. I move towards the end of my bed, very much aware of the camera sitting on my bookshelf, showing this whole scene to my mother should she choose to look at the footage.
The figure seems to hesitate, jerking, before making a slow and steady stride towards me. It doesn't take that long to get from my closet to my bed, but this figure seems to move slow, as I would imagine a sad ghost would, floating through every object in it's path, slowly moving in a straight line. Maybe that's what this figure is.
The figure makes it to my bed, and I can see it better as it distorts itself. Part of it's body seems to disconnect itself, interlocking with a different piece, then realizing it's mistake and attempts to fix it. The head of the figure does, in fact, have features-- a face. A human face. This figure, this creature, is human. Or was, at some point.
It puts its right arm out, slowly moving towards my face. I tense, unsure of what was going to happen, but I had this feeling it wouldn't hurt me. It gently stroked my face, a solemn look on its face.
"Help," I hear. The mouth didn't move, but I know I heard it. Then, I realized. I realized who it was.
"Elijah?" I whisper, tears filling my eyes. He was dead. He had been dead for 2 years, a victim to suicide.
He smiled slowly, his features suddenly becoming brighter. His rose colored lips curled into a soft smile, his cheeks were light pink, his long, bright green hair getting caught in the distortion of the rest of the body. His piercing dark green eyes were soft and pleading.135Please respect copyright.PENANAppGuIcvPxa
"Elijah," I muttered once again. "Elijah, is it really you?"135Please respect copyright.PENANA5l5vmmP1DA
He nodded, his face slowly darkening once again and getting caught in the distortion. "No," I cried. "Please!" I tried grabbing him, but the distorted, broken figure had vanished.
ns 172.68.245.91da2