Chapter 2:

Bram waited in his room, absentmindedly rolling a piece of chalk across his desk. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't he just play his music? What did his father have against playing the music he created? He fell back into his chair, pulling at the stitches on his arms. He skimmed the walls, lined with posters of Bach and Beethoven (which reminded him, he still hadn't gotten that call back from Mozart) and shelves of rejected, or otherwise forgotten, sheet music that Bram had neglected to notice or organize. Scattered pieces of paper, bone quills, and a jar of squid ink sat on his desk, surrounded by balls of crumpled paper on the floor.

He tugged at his stitches. Zero yapped at him, putting his head under the boy's hand.

"What's wrong with me, Zero?"

Zero whimpered, floated onto the chair, and nuzzled into Bram's chest.

"I mean, I'm 1,699 years old. I should know what I should be doing in my afterlife, not mess around like I'm 110. But, why can't I just get that feeling out of my head?" Zero cocked his head to one side. Bram shook his head. "I'm talking to a dog. At least I can tell you things without you cackling them to Dad."

His door knocked. "Bram, honey?"

"I'm not in the mood, Mom."

Sally peeked into her son's room, a look of concern sewn on her face. "Bram, we're not angry with you. You just had everyone worried."

He sighed. "Mom, I know. But, I can't help myself. Whenever I get these ambitions, my hands run away with my head."

His mother sat down beside him on the bed, ruffling his shaggy, black and red patched hair. "I know. I was just like you around your age, restlessness and impatience. It doesn't go away. You can go out whenever you want, but you have to tell us first."

Bram nodded, annoyed.

"You caused quite a panic in town, today."

It hit him! "Crap! I was supposed to help Dad with the Halloween party, wasn't I?" He groaned before his mother could reply. "What is wrong with me?!"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Stitches," Sally assured. "You're just so much like your father."

Bram stood up, leaning against his windowsill. The town below him was bustling, clamoring as Jack stood in the town square to assess the situation. He then looked up beyond the gate, the cemetery, Spiral Hill, gazing at the forest on the horizon. It was so close, but...he turned back to the town.

"I should probably go down there and apologize, shouldn't I?"

Sally hugged her son and nodded. He sighed and headed towards the door.

"Remember, pumpkin. Make your decision the right decision."