Unique perspective
"Oh, Cinnamon Stroodel!" Vlad cursed at his newly found failure. He had hoped to find more items like the Ring of Rage (preferably one that didn't have to work in conjunction with another object...like, say a dead king's crown), but every path had lead him to a dead end, and this was no different.
In his hands, he held what was supposed to be a magic wand that would grant insurmountable power to its user.
It didn't work.
"Of course," he sighed, "there's no point in just leaving it here. Perhaps I can unlock it's secrets in the future." And with that, he turned and floated back through the green and black void that made up the Ghost Zone.
After almost an hour of flying, he recognized the green, swirling vortex of his home portal, and floated inside, shutting it off behind him by pounding his fist into the controls on the side. At least something works, he thought to himself as the yellow and black door slammed shut behind him. It had taken him months to rebuild the porthole that allowed him access to the Ghost Zone, and he had to admit, he was rather proud of it.
He stood there for several seconds, just staring at the stick that now laid on his black-gloved hands before putting it carefully with the rest of his most recent collection...none of which worked in any way. Then he turned, as two black rings formed around his lower chest, and moved in opposing directions, transforming his white suit and cape into a dark blue, Armani suit and his black, spiked hair to stark white that had been slicked back and into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. Most noticeably, his eyes changed from glowing red, to a bright blue...well the color was bright. His eyes, however, looked nothing short of dull.
"Yet another road block," he sighed and turned to walk up the stairs of his mansion. That's when he noticed the girl sitting on his desk, watching him intently. She looked to be about 20, with blue-grey eyes, long, dark blond hair, and a large, friendly smile. He didn't smile back.
She had on a pair of geans, and a long, black, form-fitting t-shirt, that basically covered everything from her neck to her thighs. It could have been a short dress, if she weren't wearing pants beneath it, and if it didn't have a big, white, winking smilie face across the front. She also wore some fairly nice, black boots, that almost fooled him into thinking they were real velvet...almost. They did have a fake look to them, he scoffed. He could tell, of course, being around the real thing (as well as far more expensive materials) every day of his life.
"Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
She simply smiled. "I'm Anne...spelled with an 'e' of course. I always wanted to say that." she winked at him, and then simply sat there, waiting for a response.
"How did you get in here?" he asked.
She sniggered, obviously enjoying his barely apparent discomfort.
"Actually," she cocked her head, "I don't like seeing people uncomfortable. I was just laughing at the irony of it all."
"Irony of what all?" He liked less and less where this was going.
"Oh, the situation," she grinned, and shifted her position, crossing her legs and leaning forward with her palms now resting on the edge of the desk.
He folded his arms, glaring. Had this girl seen him transform? How did she get in here after all?
"I'm not a ghost," she shrugged, as if reading his thoughts. He simply glared at her, not willing any discomfort to show. "But then again, you knew that, didn't you. Your ghost sense didn't go off..." He felt his eyes widen, as his face darkened to red. How did she know his secret?
Again she laughed. "Of course I know your secret, and I know Danny's secret. Actually," she looked up thoughtfully, "I know a lot about everyone here. Many people do."
The two black rings reappeared around his stomach again, and his ghost half now stood there, looking as menacing as ever, and completely ready to do whatever he felt was nessicary to this "Anne".
"Good glare," she grinned and hopped off the desk. "You should use that one on Danny...although it won't help any."
"What does this have to do with Daniel? What do you want?" He growled. This girl had him at a disadvantage...he didn't like being at a disadvantage.
"I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine," she shrugged, now fascinated with the objects he'd collected. "This is really very cool," she smiled at him over her shoulder.
"How did you get in here!" he asked again, beginning to loose his patience.
She shrugged. "It's kind of difficult to explain."
"So you can phase through things?" he asked.
She shrugged again. "More or less. I guess I could if I wanted to... here. That's what I love about this place." Her smile now held a mischievous touch to it as she continued looking around the room, obviously unaware of the danger he posed.
"Actually," she turned around, "You pose no danger to me. Not unless I want you to."
"Tell me who you are!" he roared.
She sighed. "I already told you. I'm Anne. Anne spelled with an 'e'. Although, you can really just describe me as someone with a unique perspective."
"What are you then?" he growled.
"I'm a human," she blinked. "No more, no less. Just an imperfect being striving to live and be good."
"How quaint," he muttered, and noticed with some satisfaction that her smile disappeared.
"You do know," she said, her voice a little harder, "that being good is so much more of a challenge than being bad...or evil. But it is also far more rewarding, and it always will be."
At this he couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. "Being good is a sign of being weak!" he retorted, still grinning cruelly.
"Oh, really?" she asked. "How often do you give into temptation? How often do you give yourself the luxury of pleasure?"
"I'm a Billionaire," he pointed out. "And pleasure is what everyone on Earth and in the Ghost Zone strives for."
She sighed and shook her head. "Not me." She turned away from him and began pacing slowly again, as if she had all the time in the world. "I'm striving for happiness."
"Isn't that the same thing as 'pleasure'?" he sneered.
"No," she answered simply. "Pleasure and comfort are often mistaken for happiness and joy, when in actuality they are all very different."
"Then, by all means," he yawned, hoping she'd catch the sarcasm in his voice, "enlighten me."
She nodded curtly, still looking away from him. He realized he could shoot her now if he wanted to, but she amused him, so he decided to keep this up for a while longer. Until she bored him at least (although from the looks of things, that could be very soon, he realized).
"Pleasure is temporary happiness that leaves you emptier than when you went looking for it in the first place. Comfort is settling into a routine. Many people who are comfortable have settled into...not so good routines. People who want pleasure get comfortable where they are instead of confronting their pain and becoming happy."
"So," he sighed, already beginning to tire of her preachy attitude, "what is happiness?"
"Happiness is a state of being positive. It is, in actuality, an action. Joy, is a lasting state of happiness. It takes a lot of effort, and often responsibility to maintain this state, which is why many people settle for pleasure and comfort instead. It's sad...they don't know what they're missing really."
"And," Vlad yawned again, "you're saying that I'm in this 'diminished' state?"
She nodded and continued walking.
"Look," he said, changing the subject as he rose into the air, "I really don't care who you are, or what you think. You know too much. It's that simple. And you do realize that I cannot let you leave, and that if you try I'll be forced to incapacitate you...or even kill you."
"Psh," she rolled her eyes. "I'd like to see you try."
"Very well," he pointed his fist at her feet, and fired an ectoblast. It exploded directly on target, but not only did the blast phase through her, but every piece of rock that had been launched into the air and should have come in contact with her did as well.
Blinking, he shot again. She didn't even flinch as this ray also went directly through her. Growling, he readjusted his beam to hit someone intangible, but she "phased" through that as well.
She smiled.
He growled.
"How are you doing this?"
"Vlad, Vlad, Vlad," she shook her head, "you don't understand. When I'm here, I can be as powerful as I want to be. Kind of scary really, but true."
"How is that?" he asked slyly, hoping she would reveal some secret that would give him the advantage–or something at all.
Her smile turned sly. How he wished he could blast it right off of her face at this moment.
"Have you heard of beings from a higher plain of existence?" She asked.
He blinked, having studied such a concept in college. "But...that can't be right? You attained so much knowledge that you actually ascended to a higher existence?"
She waved her hand and her impossibly large grin widened. "Nah, it just sounded cool. I'm from...well...the real plain of existence."
"The real...I don't understand."
She laughed again, and it had really started to annoy him.
"Think of it this way," she began to walk slowly yet again. "Since you do so well with chess, this should help.
"You like to think of yourself in the position of the King, right? Always delegating what other people do and say, predicting their reactions and planning accordingly, right?" He didn't answer, and she continued. "Valerie is a pawn, Danny as well, or maybe a rook or a bishop. The Fright Knight is a knight–obviously–, etc and so forth. You control everything, right?"
He nodded warily, still glaring in her direction, and not sure where she was taking this.
"Well, you've forgotten one thing," at this she turned around and looked at him poignantly. "Who got the chess board out to begin with? Who set up the pieces? Who is actually playing?"
He looked at her, blinking. "So, are you saying you're some sort of...Goddess or something?"
"Me?" she shook her head. "Heavens no. You see, you're all basing your theories off of the assumption that this existence is REAL."
He couldn't help but stare at her for the longest time before shaking himself out of the stupor. "Real? Of course it's real!"
"No," she giggled. "This is an imaginary world...and I'm real. That's why I can do anything I want here. I can fly," she floated up towards him. "I can shift form," she changed from Danny to Maddie, to a beautiful creature with wings, to a griffon, to a giraffe and many other shapes in the blink of an eye. "I can duplicate my form..." she suddenly had at least 12 other girls standing around him before they disappeared. "And I can duplicate yours." Quite suddenly, he jumped back as he found himself staring himself in the face. Both halves. Human and Ghost, each looking as shocked as the next before they too disappeared. "I can do many things...I can even stop this from existing at this moment...like nothing ever happened by pressing a little button called the 'delete' key."
Suddenly realization dawned on his face.
"Imaginary...You mean...all of this..." he floated down and landed, leaning heavily on a glass case. "You wrote it...like an author? Of a story!"
"Not all of it," she sighed. "I borrowed it from someone. A genius really, named Butch Hartman. Great guy that one."
"Then..." he blinked. "None of this is real?"
"Nope," she sighed and floated over to him, patting him on the shoulder. "Now you're getting it! I knew you could."
"Well," he finally retorted, "how do you know that your plain of existence isn't imaginary too?"
She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't. But it's one step closer to real than yours." He had to admit she had a point there.
"So...what is the meaning of all of this?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "Well, despite the fact that this is an imaginary existence, it is still an existence...similar to imaginary numbers. They still exist, just barely in our comprehension. However, it's still in someone's mind, so therefore, it still exists.
"I just wanted you to know how it feels to be a pawn in someone's hands, so maybe you'll treat your...'pawns' more respectfully, and realize that they're not just pieces on a playing board. They're people, imaginary or not, and they deserve a chance, don't you agree?"
He couldn't seem to answer her, but stammered incoherently, still reeling from shock.
Once again, she patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, in the morning, you'll realize this was all a dream."
"In the morning–I–" he looked up, but she was gone. "Wait!" he called out and lunged forward...
Only to realize he'd just sat bolt upright in bed. Gasping, he looked around, searching for anything out of the ordinary. He found nothing. His large bed, his gigantic room, his sheets, and blankets, and bed curtains...everything seemed normal.
"Dreaming?" he asked himself. Was it only a dream? Had he just made up everything in his mind?
After several seconds of contemplation, he tried (unsuccessfully) to dismiss the thought, and laid back onto his pillow, unaware of the woman who watched him with a smile.
"No," she said, now completely out of his hearing range. "You didn't make it up...I did."