Lol, Ravyntree, looks like I cheated. xD Have this already-written piece of crap from dA.
000
The pale, drawn faces of fellow spirits lifted to the sky in fright, anger, sadness…sometimes hope.
But this human boy, who followed along almost as if he were as mindless as the rest, he showed next to nothing. A slight frown, maybe, but little emotion of his ordeal until a faint, phantom pain was felt. He rolled his shoulder, uncomfortable in this new form. But that was strange, the others didn't seem to be. The strong memory of a thin metal slicing through skin and bone and muscle made him wince as if it were happening all over again. It would, not, he knew over the irrational fear, as he could not be harmed in this state of being.
The spirit brought up a pale hand, that could not be seen through in this place, to his chest with one of the more common auras radiating from his person.
Anger.
'How dare he?' He had broken an unspoken rule, a contract signed in many battles' blood. The most important rule. He'd gone too far.
The boy sighed softly, closing his eyes, and continued to shuffle along with the rest of them. Even with his eyes shut tight against memories and the gray fog of this realm he noticed his ranks disappearing like the fine mist did behind. Only he noticed this, and vaguely wondered where they had been taken, or if he was made to go with them as he had here. At least it wouldn't be a surprise. The spirit looked down at his not-so-black-anymore boots as he followed the peripheral image of the wispy being in front of him. He doesn't open his eyes to see the numbers dwindle to a handful in just a few precious moments, or to watch the sad-looking grayish city buildings loom over the group like they might fall any moment upon them.
'But that wouldn't matter in the least, would it?' the boy thought wryly, trudging along the poorly tended, cracked pavement and not bothering to even try to breathe the smoggy air.
The scarce and unorganized group came to a halt in front of something that must be out of a horror movie. The small building was unassuming but for a feeling that if he went anywhere near it he would cease to exist. A terrifying feeling for a small soul to feel. Dying was one thing, but you existed for a reason.
A tall man dressed as though he had died during a very primitive era straightened his wizard-esque beard and stepped forward to address the souls. His mouth opens and he says a few words that the dead boy cannot understand in a scratchy voice that echoed across the way and back.
He pauses, eyes on the boy, and extends a hand.
"Dib," the old man called for him to come forward so he could begin a journey that would change many lives beyond his own lost one.