Royce's point of View

Today was the day. The day that chagned my life for the better and for the worst. Today, 50 years ago, was the day I died. I am Royce Clayton a.k.a The Torn Prince. I was a star athlete in my town back in 1951 but a carsh during a drag race ended it all. I live now in a glass house with 11 other spirits although there's talk of a 13th coming soon. The best part of the day I died was when my sweetheart accepted my pin. In fact she wore it to the race that claimed my lfe and now I sit here on the upturned muscle car in my glass prison. Elvis plays on my busted radio, which I never listen to but a day such as today is an exception. My fellow haunts look at me with interest, taking in my reaction to the song the black-haired crooner is belting. I stand in the middle of my cage, shoulders shaking remebering the last thing I saw, the last words I spoke to her.

Flashback

It was a warm day near the end of April when I asked her the question that had been circling my head for days on end. Her soft sweet voice answered me with a single word: 'yes'. A smile stretched across my face so wide I thought it would split in two. I whooped so loud the people around us jumped and I grabbed her and swung her up in my arm; intent on never having to let her go. Turns out that was sooner than I thought.

End Flashback

When I returned from my memories the song had changed. Then with horror I realized what song this was. I was too late to turn it to another station and completely furious at having to endure such bittersweet torture. I grabbed my bat and swung at the walls screaming at the tops of my lungs "Not this song! Not her song, no!" The others regarded my outbrust with more interest but no one spoke up until Jean Kriticos asked "Who's song is that Royce?", momentarily stunned I lowered my weapon and turned slowly to face the maternal spirit. My breath was heavy, almost gasping with the emotional pain I felt. Choked, I rasped out "No one has asked me that question in 50 years. It was my sweetheart's favorite song…and mine too." Everyone except the Jackal wore a look of understanding. His was more of a mixture of madness and contemplation.

Then he spoke, in a voice weak with disuse. In fact before this he only cackled insanly and I was unsure if his talking would be a relief but maybe under all that insanity he would be somewhat samrt. Hopefully. "So how exactly did you come to be seperated form your 'sweetheat'?" We all stared at him in shock. Not only had he spoke but he had asked an intelligent question. I blinked a couple times and began to pace. "I really don't like talking about this but since you asked politely I will tell you. 50 years ago today, April 12th*1951, was both the happiest and saddiest day of my life. That day my lovely sweetheart accepted my pin, which back then was a sign that we were 'going steady' as it were. Almost directly after that came the changllenge that would kill me. A local Greaser named Johnny was after my girl and he gave me an ultimatum: race him and if he wins my girl is his or if I win he backs off. I knew two things; 1. That racing was dangerous and 2. That he wouldn't keep his end of the deal. But my pride was my downfall and I warily accepted."

"I rememeber her tears and the promisies I made and I remember how the car, the same one in this accursed cell, hummed and purred when I started it up. The road wasn't bad until you got to this one spot. It had a curve that was extremely dangerous, kind of like a lesser-known deadman's curve. This particular curve had a steep ravine down below it. As the race began I glanced at my girl and blew her a kiss then I was off. Everything went fine until that dreaded curve! That damn Greaser had clipped my frieakin' bakes! I didn't know until it was too late. By the time I tried to turn the car was already slipping and tumbling downwrd. I remebered clearly my screams of terror and the heat of the fire (here the Jackal and The Withered Lover winced) as I was consumed. It took approxiamatly 10 minutes for me to die. I'm not sure how I lasted that long but I was greatfull my sweetheart didn't see it. Then the next thing I know I'm here in this cage and my girl isn't with me. Does that answer your question Ryan?"

The mangled man nodded and for once didn't cackled. He seemed almost sympathic. "I never had a 'sweetheart' as you say; I was too busy killing girls and then in Borehamwood the only women were the nurses. I did have a mother, albeit her 'occupation' wasn't the best and I hardly saw her for more than minutes at a time. And I do know what love is, contrary to popular belief. When I was in old Borehamwood, after they chucked me in that godforsaken hole in the basement, I thought I heard her voice, singing to me. But then again I was, and still am, insane so I probably heard her in my head; which for me was better than not at all. The day I died was my birthday, a cold day in December, I was 30. Someone on the floor above me set the fire and I decided to stay and face my sins, my demons. The last moment of my life as much torture as I deserve but I did hear faitnly the voice of my mother…singing to me. I died as peacefully as I could under the circusmtances."

Everyone had been mesmerized by this insane ghost, this dead crimminal. It was as if we all had thought he was just an insane ghost who had done horrendous things in lfe. He had but apperantly there was more to him than meets the eye. Just how much we never realy knew till now. Then the sound of the house turning and changing broke us form our separate thoughts and we all looked upward. We didn't have to wait long before the men who captured us came down to the basement and brought with them the 13th ghost. My eyes watered as I looked at this new spector. I was certain I knew this ghost. It was her.

*April 12th is my sister's b-day which is why i chose that for Royce's death date. oh and please take the poll on my profile or i won't put up the next chapter. thanks and review please