The Bully

The boy ran down the street, his dirty blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, as he ran from something apparently invisible to all those around him. He was a tall, sturdy boy that, upon first glance, looked to be more of a man than a boy, but one only had to see the dull light of ignorance in his muddy, brown eyes or the splattering of acne of his chin to realize that he was a young teen or had simply reached his full stature early in life. A few people looked up at him as he ran, but no one said a word or attempted to assist him. He had really expected them to do anything, although this is one time he would have welcomed any and all help.

His feet pounded across the stone and dirt as he hurried on to his house, but he didn't really assume that he would be safe there. After all, that's the very place it was assumed he would run to, so he turned quickly and sprinted to the root cellar nestled in the small knoll. It was nearly hidden by some straggly trees, and it hadn't been used in years, which made it the perfect spot to hide.

The door protested loudly on its rusted hinges as opened it and ran inside, allowing the door to shut behind him with a bank. It was completely dark except for a few thin beams of light that filtered through the cracks in the door, and the smell was almost unbearably musty and mildew. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down heavily on the dirt floor.

"Oh, Frank," an eerily familiar voice called from somewhere behind him.

Frank jumped to his feet and spun around, only to trip and fall back to the ground. In the back of the cellar, he could see a figure plainly despite the dim light. It was that weird kid he used to tease, Sascha, but that was impossible.

Sascha was dead.

He had seen the body himself hanging from a tree before the family had a chance to take it down. In fact, he had thrown a few rocks at it in the early morning hours. He knew for a fact that the freak was dead, but somehow he was standing here in the cellar. Sascha even looked almost the same except for the strange, glowing eyes of two shades of green. The freak's eyes had been dark blue.

"Frank," Sascha called again, smiling brightly.

"What do you want?" Frank demanded, "You're dead! You shouldn't be here!" Tears filled his eyes for the first time in many years as he pleaded with what he could only assume to be the ghost of the boy he had teased and bullied so many times. "I'm sorry! You hear me? I'm sorry I was mean to you!"

Sascha's smile grew as did the odd glow about his body. His form was even clearer now as he undid the top buttons of his dress shirt and tilted his head sideways to reveal the scar of a robe burned deep into his slender neck. As Frank watched, Sascha's head lolled more and it became clear that his neck had been broken. Bright green eyes peered at him curiously from a head that now hung completely upside down, and Frank suddenly felt warm dampness spreading through is pants as his bladder gave.

Frank let out a terrified scream that sounded more animal than human as he managed to get to his feet and stumble from the cellar. The stench of voided urine hung behind as a reminder of his fright.

"Sascha," a warning voice said.

Turning, Sascha found himself looking up at the disapproving face of Rudgar. "Yes?" he asked innocently.

"You know you aren't supposed to terrorize the living," Rudgar admonished, "even if that boy was a bully to you in life."

"I wasn't trying to terrorize him,"Sascha replied, "I was just showing him there is an existence after death."

Rudgar stared at him silently, and it was clear he didn't believe the story, but he said nothing else as he created a portal. "Let's go," he said.

Sascha nodded, but when Rudgar's back was turned, he pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket and a pen. Carefully marking Frank's name off the list, he looked at the few other names remaining.

After all, Frank hadn't been the only one to bully him when he had been alive.