It was late. And yet he sat there. One drop of blood. That was all it took. Kneeling on the grave with the red substance dripping from his pale finger. The thorned rose had fallen to the Earth, forgotten now as his glasz eyes stared directly ahead of him. He was entranced. The feel of death hounded in on him from every angle and yet he seemed not to notice.
The shrill darkness that was all around him broke the glowing pale light in front of him. The light gleamed from a figure, a figure the boy knew as a ghost. "Hello son," it spoke in a whispered hum. The voice was undoubtedly female. He did not reply but she seemed not to want him to. "Have I ever told you just how special you are?" He started to nod but realized she meant it in a different way than she had in life and shook his head instead. "Well, it is high time you knew. Tonight begins your life's true journey."
Still, the boy did not speak. His eyes remained fixed on the figure. The spirit's own eyes glowed brightly in the dark and he remembered how in life, they were the same as his own. That was how he had gotten his eyes. The spirit was his mother. The spirit was there to guide him.
A few moments of silence pressed in around them as he continued to kneel on the grave. The dark was a flashing light and he heard the beginnings of a rainstorm, knowing that soon, rain would begin to pour. The little bit of his mind not entranced by the experience cursed the threat of rain. It would ruin his hair. It would plaster his pale skin and it would soak his perfect clothes through to the bone. But still he did not move. He could not move.
"Do you see the dark?" the spirit asked. The boy nodded. "Do you feel the wind?" He nodded again. "Do you feel the presence?" Once more, the boy nodded. "Than you are ready my son. Open your eyes and embrace the world that has broken through the barrier. You have one mission my son."
The boy sat on in the darkness, eyes still locked on the spirit that he knew to be his mother. For a moment there was no exchange between either of them. Finally, the boy spoke, for the first time since the exchange had begun. For the first time since he had pricked his finger with the thorn on the rose that lay forgotten on his mother's grave. "What is the mission mother?" he asked. His high-pitched voice was like a delicate song, floating on the night air as it pierced the silence around them. She watched him for one moment more before allowing a small smile, one not very different from those the boy normally wore, to cross her delicate features.
"There is a boy son. He is one year your junior. His spirit is lost son. His body lays in a hospital in Westerville, Ohio. It is only kept alive by life support. His parents – well his mother – refuse to cut those lines. He clings to life but only barely. The only way that he can bring himself back to the world is for him to receive his spirit back into his broken body. But his spirit is lost son. His spirit does not know that it is a spirit." Here, his mother cut her words and waited for him to show his understanding. The boy nodded. "You are to find his spirit and bring him back to his body and when the boy rejoins the world of the living, you will be rewarded."
Those words were her last as thunder cracked the air. A blinding flash of light cracked across the sky and the darkness swelled in around him, pressing him on all sides until the rain began to fall. And then…the boy knew no more and his memory wiped to a clean black slate as he fell from consciousness.
A/N: Hi guys! Yes, I know this is a little bit of a short piece for me. But this is just a prologue and I promise, chapters beyond this will definitely be at least my normal length and style. I know I've got a lot going on but I had to get this down or I was going to go crazy. If you haven't guessed the premise of this story yet, I'm sure you'll get it soon. Klaine will be made, I promise but please review! They make me smile and keep me writing and I'm wondering what you might think of this story!