Disclaimer: I wish it was mine. =(
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I used to love following Sam around the town, going from place to place in search of gloom and depression. We'd go to the Haunted House on the north end of the city five times during Halloween. I'd help her pick out a bevy of clothing choices at the thrift store, (we'd found there to be more Gothic choices there, for some reason), we'd sit in Tucker's unfinished basement, down in the corner in the back, and wait until my ghost sense went off.
Or we'd kiss. But usually the Box Ghost or some other such nonsense would pop up, delaying that second choice.
But there is one thing that we do not do anymore. Not since the accident, (and I'm not referring to my ghost-powers-inducing one, either).
We don't go to the graveyard anymore. We used to go at least once a week, or twice a month if we were busy, because Sam loved to look at the names and ages of the dead people. And I love Sam, so I'd usually look too, making it a game of who could find the oldest or youngest person there. When people were at a grave, though, we'd go no where near it. They were like a shield for their loved one to the curious eye. I can understand why, now.
Tucker never came with us. Something about the 6-feet-under souls totally creeped him out. (And because he wasn't Goth or in love, he really had no reason to go there, anyway) Sam would laugh and tell him that soon he'd be right there with us. I wonder what would have happened if he had come with us, just once. Probably wouldn't have changed anything, but maybe it would have helped.
He's dead, by the way. Tucker, that is. It's unreal even admitting that. Like if I don't say it, (or in this case, write it,) it won't be totally true.
That's also why we don't go there anymore. Having someone in the ground that you know, that you were close to, that you grew up with, is unrealistically scary. And I fight ghosts for a living!
It was fast. I was fighting a ghost at the time, and couldn't get to his car fast enough. I'll never, ever, be able to get that mangled version of Tuck's flesh out of my head. That's all I can see whenever I close my eyes. Sam says that it's just as bad for her, she was there as it happened, while I only got there directly after, and it seems like there's nothing we can do to erase those horrific images.
Tucker! My best friend. The ghost boy is flying sporadically, like when I'm angry at the world for taking my buddy, I go out and fight ghosts like nothing else. No one can beat me then. But sometimes I have the sense that nothing really matters. Why would it? I think, It can be taken away so fast!
I've even worn black a few times since the funeral.
Ugh! The funeral. A horrible experience, if I do say so myself.
It was closed casket, good thing, too, but I still wished that I could have seen him one more time. Before he… well, was gone for good. The last thing we talked about was his socks. Isn't that pathetic? He was saying how he needed a different laundry detergent, because his socks always stank. I was about to tell him that I didn't think it had anything to do with the soap when my ghost sense went off.
Am I a cruddy friend or what?
So now what? I honestly don't know.
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Hey guys! I haven't done an angsty piece, so I thought I'd give this situation a crack. I thought of how usually, in stories, either Danny dies and becomes fully ghost, or Sam dies leaving Danny a wreck. I don't think I've ever seen one about a Tucker-death, so here you go! =)