After It Ends {Closed}

[knightlite]

The sky was orange again today. All day. Just like it had been yesterday. Orange, with sickly yellow dust clouds stretching up into the stratosphere. The dust burned his eyes and stuck in his throat like liquid fire. He'd had to stop three times just this morning just to catch his breath. But at least he hadn't seen anyone today. And no one had seen him (he hoped). Matt learned all too quick early on that people these days were a whole lot worse than dust.


A few hours in, he found an old wooden house still standing near the old highway. He stopped in front of it, wondering. Worrying.


The door was slightly ajar.


"Wonder if anyone's home?" He whispered to himself.


Most of the windows were at least partially shattered, and the boards of the house were all sloping. But it looked sturdy enough for a night. That wasn't really what was worrying him. Slowly, carefully, he stepped up the front porch to the door and swung it open. More dust sprang up in his wake.


Coughing, he called, "Hello? Anyone there?"

 

[D i d o]

A plume of silver shimmered in the air, flitting briefly like a static radio signal among the dust mites and the orange haze before disappearing once more into the ether. Into the abyss. The nothing. The darkness stretched wide in welcome, offering to consume her. She slipped hesitantly into its gaping mouth. Floating, evaporating. Here she wasn’t anything. Not a person, not a girl, not Moira. Less and less by the second.  "Sans eyes, sans teeth, sans everything”, she thought absent-mindedly watching her translucent fingers fizz away in happy effervescent bubbles. It should have been easy, letting go. It was. But somewhere in Moira a warning sounded. It was too easy. And there was something wrong. Her fingers curled into her palm. She studied the gesture, frowning. The fizzing slowed. She could barely hear the soothing hiss anymore. There was something, something… Her eyes followed the meandering trail of life-fizz as it disolved into the abyss. So beautiful. So calm. The end. Surrender. Oh how, she wanted to surrender! Yearning tugged violently at her heart. She tried releasing her grip again, tried summoning the unravelling, but this time the darkness felt like oil. Instead of liberating her, breaking her down into air and sending her upwards, it clung oppressively to her skin, a thick, glutinous ooze. Moira tried to back away from it, fighting it as it made for her face but it was everywhere. In her mouth. In her nose. In her ears. She screamed in frustration. Still there was something, something she should remember! WHAT WAS IT!?


Far away, a door creaked open. 


The sound pierced the dark like a dagger. Moira launched herself into the opening before she could think twice about what she was doing. Blinding light broke across her body. She was flying through the air, tumbling forwards unable to control her momentum, hands outstretched before her, heading straight for-


Her eyes widened.


Moira collided with Marc. Or more accurately, she fell through him flat onto the ground around his feet. She was up in an instant, the echo of her scream still hanging in the air as she took a couple uneasy steps away from him. “What is it?!” She cried, disorientated. “What have I forgotten!?” She could still feel the oil-dark on her skin. Though it hadn’t come through with her, the memory sent chills down her spine. She hugged herself, her eyes imploring Marc to answer. Two arms. Two eyes. Not so sans stuff after all.

 

[knightlite]

Matt was still on the ground when Moira started screaming. Her touch--it wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before. A kind of burning chill that ran deep into the spine--like holding dry ice in the palm of his hand. It hurt.


"Ouch!" He called out instinctively, recoiling his arm from the figure now standing several feet before him. Except she wasn't standing exactly--her feet were raised ever so slightly above the floor, dangling in mid-air. She was floating. Matt had to blink twice. All of her figure seemed wrapped in a glowing blue hue. It bordered the edges of her skin and clothes and tinted over everything. But the worst part--and the weirdest--was that he could see through her. There was the dilapidated dining room, siting just behind her. He felt like he could pass a hand right through her middle.


"What is it?" The girl cried, frantically searching him for an answer he didn't have. "What have I forgotten?" She hugged herself, her troubled gaze burning into his.


"I-" Matt began, trying to collect his thoughts. How do you answer that? Who was she? What was she?


He quickly picked himself up, almost stumbling over in the rush, and grabbed the baseball bat hanging from his pack. He raised it up and tried to keep his voice from breaking as he inched back little by little towards the door. "What are you talking about?" He asked angrily. "What--What are you?! Why are you like that?" 


Matt inched back a little more. Then the heel of his foot caught on an old beer can. He stumbled backwards, his back hitting the door and slamming it shut behind him. He gripped the bat tighter, almost dropping it. "Wha--What do you want?!"

 

[D i d o]

Confusion flashed across Moira’s face as the boy stumbled away from her. Her mind was still whirling from the darkness she’d just escaped. She hadn’t even fully realised where she was yet. All her attention was fixed on the boy, the boy who’s arrival had drawn her from the abyss, the boy who might have the answers, the boy, the boy, the boy. The further he retreated, the further she followed, the laces of her boots dragging silently across the floor as she floated towards him. She didn’t even flinch when he grabbed the baseball bat, hardly even looking at the thing. It was meaningless. She was self-aware enough to know it couldn’t hurt her. It was only his voice, when he spoke, that gave her pause. 


What was she? Why was she like that… Like what? Moira’s expression morphed into one of doubt and she checked herself. Oh, right. Like that. She looked back up, as he tripped over a can and accidentally slammed the door shut behind him, blocking his own exit. But she did not stare at him for long. Her gaze slipped from his face to the door, then to the wall by the door, and the window a bit further to the left, the glass broken and jagged, slicing through the dust that blew in gently from the wasteland beyond. All the while, comprehension dawned slowly on her face. She was back. This was the rickety shack she’d been hiding out in, the one with the wooden floors and useless ceiling. She’d chanced upon it weeks ago after wandering aimlessly for days, unseen, unheard, unreal. After...


Her piercing blue eyes flicked back to the boy as he clutched the bat in terror, a tremor of excitement, of hope, stabbing at her chest. This boy, he heard her, though, right? He saw her? He was looking right at… “Oh…" Moira’s face fell. He saw her. The thing that she was. Translucent body, faint glow and all. With a sigh, she put her hands up in surrender. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t actually think I can.” She wriggled her translucent fingers in the air as if to make a point. “Dead, you see?”


She didn’t want to scare him off, after all. What if the darkness returned? Moira smiled, pushing down her unease. She could still sense it, lurking around behind her, waiting for an opening. “How is it you’re seeing me?" She pressed.

 

[knightlite]

Matt lowered the bat for a moment and looked her over before raising it back up into a defensive position. She had to be kidding, right? A ghost? What else could this wasteland cook up for him? It was all starting to get to his head. Well, more anyways. In a very bad way.


Her pale blue face shone serious and somber back at him, trembling. She wasn't kidding. And she looked...pained. Sorrowful.


Dead.


"I'm hallucinating." Matt said after a moment, the rest of the ghost's words barely registering. He lowered his bat, let it fall through his fingers onto the floor with a gentle clack. "Th--That's what it is I've gone crazy."


Matt could feel his heart fluttering at the thought of it. Ghosts. Death. His pulse quickened. He'd been in a cornucopia of both since the Big Flash, a string of bodies greeting him at every doorstep, always miles ahead of him. Dust. Bodies and dust and dust was all we returned to, that's what they said at funerals right? He was so tired of dust. He wanted to feel clean again.


Matt started pacing, his voice quickening and tone becoming more erratic as he spoke. He couldn't look her at anymore, he couldn't--and she looked so sad and scared and familiar, with a kind of sadness that didn't fit, not quite, with the stifling rain cloud that seemed to permeate everywhere these days, that he had almost numbed himself to--just a little longer. She was different. Matt turned away so he wouldn't have to face her anymore. "I'm crazy. I've swallowed too many dust clouds and now I'm seeing things and going crazy and I'm probably going to end up in a ditch somewhere with a bullet in my head and--and oh my god. I'm dead. I'm dead I'm I'm dead already. That's what it is."

 

[D i d o]

[SIZE=10.5pt]“Well, to be honest with you, things being as they are at the moment you probably are going to end up in a ditch somewhere with a bullet in your head.” She agreed, lowering her hands as he started to pace back and forth across the room but otherwise not moving an inch. The last thing she wanted to do was startle him. “Really, you’ve got to think of upgrading that arsenal of yours. I don’t think a baseball bat’s gonna cut it anymore. But, I’m dead right? So I won’t be offended if you don’t take my advice. I’m not exactly the leading expert on survival” Moira shrugged, smiling, trying to keep her tone light and friendly. She needed to keep talking, needed to calm him down. She couldn’t lose him. “As for crazy…” Moira continued, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling as an unnatural gust of air blew past her. “I’d say everyone’s a bit crazy nowada-” Her voice faltered. Moira shot a furtive glance over her shoulder. There, in the corner, the nothing. She could feel it, calling her, pulling her.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=10.5pt]Her eyes contained a desperate glint when she turned her gaze back to Matt. “I swear I’m real.” She almost pleaded, instinctively reaching for his arm to anchor herself against the tug of the abyss. “Look if this were you first delusion, it would only cover one sense.” She muttered hastily, casting another glance over her shoulder. “You don’t just have full scale delusions on your first go. These things take time, they’re illnesses, they accumulate in intensity, get steadily worse. So far you’ve seen, heard and felt me though, right? That’s three senses. It doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t be sick enough by your first display of mental illness to have such a detailed delusion.”[/SIZE]


[SIZE=10.5pt]She bit her lip, drawing some kind of strength from the live warmth radiating from around his body. “You’ve got to believe me!”[/SIZE]

 

[knightlite]

Matt looked at the ghost again while she talked. There was something in her voice--an urgency. Fear. And some sense too...maybe. He was willing to admit it. Or maybe she was just an illusion, but . . . 


Matt closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on breathing again. Just like he practiced. Breathe in, breathe out.


Memories. Fresh cut green grass on a summer's day. A glint of sun in his eyes. Blue skies. In, and out . . .


"Okay." He said, almost without knowing what he was agreeing to. He opened his eyes. Then he started thinking again.


"Okay. So let's just suppose, hypothetically, that I'm not dead. And I'm not sick. And you are dead, and I'm seeing you...how am I seeing you, exactly? No, wait, you already asked that. But seriously, is this like, normal for you? Wait, there aren't any other gh--uh, people with your condition here are there? Like, standing right behind me making funny faces or plotting to murder me or something? I mean, not to stereotype but every time I've seen this play out in movies it uh--it doesn't usually end up good for people in my situation."


OOC: sorry it's so short!

 

[D i d o]

[SIZE=10.5pt]While Matt breathed deep calming breaths, Moira floated a little closer, trying to put as much distance between her and the nothing as possible. Funny, the nearer she was to Matt, the weaker she felt its pull. The ghost was just beginning to puzzle over the fact when Matt opened his eyes and finally admitted to the possibility that she might actually exist. Moira breathed a sigh of relief. It was bad enough trying to be charming while death was trying to suck you into oblivion. At least now she had one less thing to worry about. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]


[SIZE=10.5pt]“No, not normal.” She shook her head, overwhelmingly grateful for the direction the conversation was going in. “Generally, people look right through me. People like you, that is. There are others with eh my condition, as you put it. They can see me but they don’t stick around long. Don’t worry, there’s no one else here at the moment.” She looked over her shoulder. The pull had reduced to a light prickling, like the dance of mild static across her skin, lessening further by the second. “Well there is something… More like a place… kind of…” She shivered. Memories of the ooze slammed into her mind, threatening to drown her in fear. Moira shook her head, having to make a conscious effort to force the images away. “Nothing that could do the living any harm, at any rate” She shrugged after a moment, shooting him as casual a smile as she could muster. “So… what brings you this way?”[/SIZE]


[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]


[SIZE=10.5pt]((Short is good ^^ No worries. I have no problem with short or long replies. What matters to me is quality not quantity))[/SIZE]

 

[knightlite]

"Okay. You're talking to a ghost. No big deal. You've done weirder stuff in the past few months. Well, maybe. Alright, maybe not that weird but still." Matt thought. Right! She was still waiting for a reply. "Uh, erm--life? Er, shit, sorry that was probably insensitive. Or was it? Nevermind. I just..."


Deep breaths again. In, and out.


"I was following the road." Matt said. It was true. The highway was one of the few marks of civilization still mostly intact, winding its way through the barren wasteland like an arrow, pointing him... somewhere. He wasn't quite sure. But it was all he could think to do. Just...move forward. On towards the road. It felt a little less lost than wandering. Marginally.


"I don't know." He said, thinking it over. He noticed his bat on the ground and tucked it back into his pack. "After the Big Flash...stuff's bad everywhere. I just try to keep moving these days. Especially with all the dust storms lately. I saw this house and... here I am." Matt shrugged.


"So uh, what brings you...here? To this plane, I guess? I've, uh--no offense, but I've never seen a dead person before. I mean, one that wasn't really dead." He sighed. "I mean--you know what I mean."


OOC: oh good bc I am very rusty at writing lol