Don't ask me what is going on with this story. I really don't know, but I like it so I'm rolling with it!
Warning: Talk of suicide. Talk of going insane. More added as story is updated.
If you want to be kept up to date with any upcoming stories or want to ask me to write a story for you please follow me on Facebook or on Tumblr under SilverMidnight52! I own nothing.
Placing the book he was reading on the table Manfred reached back to scratch at his neck trying to get it rid of the itchy feeling that was there. For the first time since he had gotten to Midnight it was a quiet day. The type of day the meant relaxing at home doing nothing.
Of course that was not what he decided to do that day. No, instead he was at Home Cookin' reading something he grabbed from the trailer and working on his third cup of coffee since he got there. An hour previously.
With everything that had been happening in the town he thought it a good idea to read over some of the things that his ancestors wrote. It was always a good idea to go into battle with some knowledge under your belt.
Anyway he had been meaning to read them since he was a kid. The trailer was filled with so many books that it was practically a library at that point. Given a library filled with gypsy diaries and spell books and curses and everything in between, but still a lot of information.
At that point in time the information was telling him that he needed to learn a few more languages. He had the English and the French down path fairly well, but the Romanian was giving him a lot of trouble even with the translator he found.
Sometimes he couldn't help but curse his Grandmother. She had known that she wasn't going to be there for all of his life and she still hadn't given him the tools that he'd need to be the last Bernardo standing. That sounded like a bad game show.
When it came down to it he was the only living person that he knew of that could do what he did. No one else was there to help him along the way. He was stuck trying to figure it out on his own and hoping he didn't fuck it up.
Except he already was. Day in and day out it felt as if the world was crumbling around him. He had had no idea what he was getting into when he had decided that listening to the woman and going to Midnight was a good plan.
It seemed like every other day a new supernatural being was coming out of the woodwork to try to kill everyone. Then there was the group of complete strangers that for some reason decided to adopt him. It was more than he signed up for.
All he had wanted, all he had ever wanted, was a nice peaceful life. A normal life. Which he wasn't ever going to happen. He saw spirits. There was no way that he was ever going to be a normal person.
He always thought though that if he ever decided to settle down in one place it was going to be as far away from the supernatural as he could possibly get. Not in a town where three fourth of the people were supernatural themselves.
He had to admit though that it wasn't as if he had tried to get away once he realized what was going on. He did the one thing that he should have known better than to do. He got a little attached to the people in the town.
Never in his life had he been around so many odd people that weren't related to him. It was nice to not have to worry about whether they thought he was a freak or if they were thinking of ways to get him committed to a psych hospital again.
For the first time he was in a place where odd behavior was the norm. He could hold full conversations with a spirit and no one would think less of him. Not that he was ever going to do that, but the knowledge that he had the choice was more freeing than he had thought.
At least most of the time it felt that way. Other times he realized that he was still the weird one. Yes, Lem was a vampire and Fiji was a witch, but in the supernatural world those were fairly common. The Rev being a weretiger was a bit unusual, but that was the tiger part not the were part.
A psychic though. They were rare. Well, psychics like him were. There were some that could read auras and see spirit animals. Some could help clean a person's mind and soul. Others even had the abilities to see the ties that bound people to others.
Then there were the hundreds of fakes out there. The ones that had no idea what it meant to have the gift of sight. He would never understand why people pretended to be psychic. It wasn't as if it was a solid life plan.
Sure, the money was decent if you could find the right people, but it wasn't that simple. It wasn't just seeing the ghosts on demand and talking to them whenever he decided to. There was no control with seeing the dead.
It was days without sleep because your dreams were filled with others nightmares. It was getting damn good a meditation because if you didn't get away from the ghosts you would go insane. It was never letting your guard down in fear of being possessed.
When he was younger he had been enthralled with his family history. If generations before him had been able to handle the Bernardo family secret than they must have written down the answers to all his questions. He had wanted to learn everything he could to keep himself safe and sane.
That was when he had first started to read the books in the trailer. Well, they weren't so much books as they were diaries. It seemed as if most people in his family had written things down at least once in their lifetime.
A lot of them were in languages he couldn't read, but the few that he could understand were terrifying to a child to say the least. That was a lie. They weren't just terrifying to a child, but an adult as well.
It wasn't until he started to read through the diaries that he started to fear his powers. Nothing said 'have fun with your psychic powers' as finding out just how much pain and damage was done to pretty much everyone that had ever been cursed with said powers.
He had barely gotten through one full diary before he couldn't read anything else. It was so much darker than he ever could have imagined. Yes, he knew that seeing spirits wasn't exactly a happy thing, but he hadn't known.
After that first diary he had to started to flick through a few others looking for key words. Hoping that it was just a one time thing. No matter which one he went through though they all ended the same. Suicide.
It was shocking just how many of his ancestors had ended up killing themselves. Not just killing themselves either, but going completely mad before hand. It was like they finally gave into the ghosts. That was one of the scariest things that he could never forget about.
Ever since his powers had fully kicked in he had been taught to keep his guard up. That he had to be in control or the ghosts were going to do that for him. Every day he had to keep in mind just how dangerous the life he lead was.
If something happened then he was alone in the battle. It wasn't as if anyone else could see what was going on around him. He and he alone could had the ability to see the spirits all around them and he had to be careful
It was easy to forget that now that he was in Midnight. He was surrounded by people that cared about him and were willing to have his back in any fight. Somehow that made him feel weaker than when he had been alone. Almost as if all his walls were being lowered.
Xylda had taught him that that was the worst thing he could do. If his guard was down than it was only a matter of time before he was dead. He had been forced to spend hours in the trailer learning that lesson. Keeping himself safe from the ghosts around him had to be his number one priority.
It was so odd to think about it that way. Neither him nor his Grandmother had ever taken good care of themselves. They ate horribly, barely slept through the night without pills, and drank more alcohol than water. He was surprised everyday he was still alive.
Even now he didn't take the best care of himself. It was more doing his best not to die. Sort of. Between not taking care of himself physically and being in the middle of pretty much ever supernatural fight… He lead a very confusing life. He wasn't sure he liked it.
"Good morning, Manfred," someone greeted walking into the backroom causing him to jump.
A soft chuckle came from the Reverend's throat as he held his hands up when the younger man looked at him. Shaking his head at his own jumpiness Manfred gave the man an embarrassed smile as he sat down.
He didn't know why he had been so surprised that the other man had shown up. It was something that he did every day around that time. Well, every day that didn't involve running from something that wanted to kill them. Reaching back he unconsciously scratched at his neck again.
"Light reading?" the Rev asked motioning towards the diary.
"I wouldn't call it that," the psychic offered shaking his head as he picked the book up once more, "More tragedy."
"Oh? I didn't take you as someone that read tragedies recreationally."
"I'm not… I mean it's not so much recreation as it is history."
The were looked confused at that. Not that Manfred could blame him. It was confusing. If he hadn't known about it for pretty much all of his life he wouldn't quite understand the Bernardo family history himself.
"April 6, 1894," Manfred started to read not questioning why he was doing so, "I had to cover the mirrors in my home with towels. I had to stop seeing… In all my years of seeing spirits I have never run into one like this. They have no face. At least not one that I have seen. I don't know if I'm grateful for that or not. For the first time I am starting to feel as insane as Hetty claimed I as when I told her of my gifts. I worry she will take my child from me. I don't know if I could stop her if she did. I feel as weak as a baby calf being turned out for slaughter. I am afraid. I am afraid for my child. I am afraid for myself. I am afraid for everyone that has ever stepped inside of my home. I fear that if there is a God he has turned his back on me. Though I also fear that I will be seeing him sooner than I like. I pray to every being I know that I am not greeted with flames when I die. I've always hated fire."
Placing the book down Manfred's hand moved to the back of his neck once more as he looked over at the Rev and saw the man staring at him. Which wasn't that surprising. It wasn't really the happiest entry in the diary.
"Interesting," the Rev said after a pregnant pause.
"I'm pretty sure that it was written by my great great aunt," Manfred shrugged dropping his hand to the table once more, "The family tree is still somewhere in the trailer."
"Do you have many diaries like that?"
"Oh yeah. The trailer is filled with everything that my family has ever touched over the centuries."
"It must be interesting to have such an in-depth history of your lineage."
"I'm not sure I'd use the word 'interesting'."
"What do you mean?"
Manfred opened his mouth to explain his meaning only to stop when he looked at the older man. It suddenly occurred to him what he was doing. The last thing that he should be doing was talking about his family history.
The Rev was watching him with those calm, understanding brown eyes though. As if he was more than willing to take on some of the load if he was asked to. If he had any doubt that the man was in the wrong kind of work it was gone with that look.
He has been taught that it was a good thing not to talk to others. All that lead to was too many questions that he didn't want to answer or couldn't answer.. It was just too difficult to explain his life to people that didn't have his powers.
A part of him didn't want to explain either. His life was pretty much a walking nightmare. While he was sure that the weretiger could relate he couldn't do that to the man. They might be friends, but some things were best kept secret.
"Can I ask you a question?" the psychic asked his nails digging into his neck.
"Of course," the Reverend responded with a smile.
"Do you like being called Reverend or Rev? Or would you rather be called by your name?"
The older man cocked his head to this side before an understanding smile came to his lips. Normally Manfred would hate being so see through, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. He needed to not be talking about his family anymore
"I will respond to either, but if you'd like I'd be okay with being called Emilio," the Rev offered after a moment.
"Alright," he nodded his head before clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Manfred, I will not force you to talk about anything you don't wish to. That is not my place. I am simply here because I consider you to be a friend and you looked as if you needed some company. Whether we talk about what is on your mind or anything else I do not care."
Smiling at the man's words Manfred felt himself relax a little. He had no idea why he was so afraid of talking right then, but he couldn't help but feel thankful towards the man for not questioning what was going on with him
"Sorry," he offered with a slight smile.
"It's alright," he smiled before motioning to the rest of the restaurant, "Everyone that comes to Midnight has secrets that they don't want to confront. It's not our job to judge, but be friends and family and be there if the past comes knocking."
"Is 'Reverend' a synonym for 'fortune cookie'"
"It is not the first time I've heard that."
"I'm shocked."
The older man shook his head a chuckle falling from his lips again causing Manfred to smile. After that the two men sat at the table not talking. It was surprisingly comfortable simply sitting there. More comfortable than he felt in awhile.
"I apologize, but I have to go," the older man finally said standing up, "I like being at the church in case anyone needs me."
"Good to know you're easy to find," Manfred smile with a nod of his head.
"It's a small town. There's no place to hide."
"From fortune cookie to ominous in five seconds flat. I'm impressed."
"I provide many services."
Snorting the younger man shook his head as the other man left. The smile didn't leave his lips as he grabbed the diary and started out of the restaurant himself his hand already reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.