1 Misery
By - Diamond Raider
He hasn't an enemy in the world - but all his friends hate him.
Eddie Cantor (1892 - 1964)
"Hmph." That is the sound a petulant child makes. Not the sound a demon-like creature straight from the underworld makes. Unless that demon-like creature straight from the underworld is Phantasmus. 'Cause, well, Phantasmus can do whatever he damn well pleases, whenever he damn well pleases, and he can do it how he damn well pleases. You didn't live long after you angered him, and you certainly didn't live well.
But let us get back to the reason Phantasmus was acting like a royal brat. That would be the wreaths hanging above all the doors in Amity Park. He couldn't get into Amity (Even after a year of trying, the ghost shield was still too strong for him.) But he could definitely see into Amity, and the cheerfulness surrounding the cities inhabitants was highly irking.
And he was a man filled entirely with pain, depression, anger, and most of all, vengeance. He wanted everyone who had ever wronged him to die. Well…at first he had. He hadn't gone after innocents unnecessarily. But then, just being innocent became a slight against him. Being able to smile, and have others smile back, just wasn't allowed. Especially when his smiles gave children nightmares. So everyone was removed. Permanently. But since Amity Park had ghost shields, they used them. And eventually advanced them to cover the entire town, so that it could be rebuilt. Lord, how he hated those people!
These mortals went on with Christmas, when he himself had always detested the dreadful holiday. And so, Phantasmus couldn't decide what to do. He was floating above a glowing green shield, staring down at a city that was progressing far faster than it should have, or would have if they had not been grouped so tightly together.
It was really annoying that he was inadvertently helping them.
And he did rule the world. He had many other cities, towns, and even countries to terrorize, but he always found himself drawn back to his home town. It was funny, in a way. The place he couldn't get away from fast enough when he was fourteen, drew him like the proverbial moth to the flame when he was but a year older.
A year older, but saying he had barely changed was a lie. When he was fourteen, he had a cheerful, slightly naive, disposition. His crooked smiles were enough to make his two best friends day, and his thoughts usually remained optimistic, even when there wasn't much hope.
Then, everyone died. Or, at least, everyone that mattered diedAnd it hurt. Oh Lord did it hurt! And Phantom now lived by the old saying, "Misery loves company."