Off Danny Phantom By ImperfectIsPerfect
Disclaimer: Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman.
Daniel Fenton.
He truly was an enigma.
He was not reclusive, no, he and his friends had become very social, on the off-chance you could catch them.
But no-one could stand to ask the questions they would kill for the answers to.
You're probably wondering why and thinking "If Danny and his friends are nice, why can't anyone ask any questions?" Well, it had nothing to do with how they acted, they were certainly odd, but not scary, no.
There was just something off-putting about them, the jokes they made about life and death, the carelessness of the actions they took that would have daredevils peeing their pants, as though nothing could hurt them, the way their unusually colored eyes seemed to burn right through you with a glare that would have seasoned war soldiers running for the hills should you invoke their anger, and the unnerving feeling when any other emotion overtook them, the emotion would be clear as day, but beyond that it was like trying to see through a brick wall.
The uncanny ability to sit perfectly still, not making sound or movements, to the point where you weren't really sure if they were breathing or not.
Their toned bodies, a clear sign that they were exercising on a near daily bases, yet no-one ever saw them anywhere near a gym, and the scars, oh god the scars! White and reddish-pink lines littered Sam, Tucker and Jazz, while Danny was covered in green tined ones, like a horrific Jackson Pollock painting, spiderwebbed across their skin. Burned into the minds of those unlucky enough to see them.
Are you still considering just asking them yourself? Don't. On the off-chance they do answer your questions you'll never want to sleep again, and it doesn't matter if they don't.
Those few who have dared to ask the quartet questions, and gotten answers in return, have all been admitted to various psychiatric wards, and won't speak of what they heard, they simply talk normally, like Danny and his friends, never answering questions and never being mean. It's only the nightmares that make them stay in the wards, every night they all have the same dream that wakes them up screaming bloody murder about ghosts and wastelands and battles and pain and halfa's.
Halfa's, I bet you've never heard that word before, I have.
Still thinking about asking them? Well ok, but call me from your padded room will you? So I can say I told you so.
Danny, Sam, Jazz and Tucker aren't normal, maybe not even human, everyone in Amity has accepted that and doesn't stick their nose where it doesn't belong. You should take a leaf out of their books.
Like I should have.
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I'm particularly proud of this story, since it's my first attempt at pseudo-horror, and I think I did fairly well. (I wrote Corpse after this one, but for some reason I posted that first) I literally forgot that I hadn't posted this story till yesterday, but I was busy, so here you go! Another thing, the few people that I've let read this say it seems like it leading to something, I don't have a sequel planned or written, but if you want one I'm happy to comply, review and let me know.