He wandered alone along the dark corridors of the castle.
Not even a lone Waddle Dee on its way to the dormitory felt his presence as he passed it. The creature tottered on, oblivious to his presence.
What was left of Holy Nightmare's salesman sort of paused and exhaled deeply in a weary kind of sadness. He carried on walking, not knowing what to do, not that he knew of doing anything from the start.
Reduced to a silent, invisible and formless ghost, all he could do now was walk.
His fingers passed through objects and people when he tried to touch them, and his voice was but a faint breeze to the ear. He could see himself as a faded version of what he once was, but nothing was there to those who looked in his direction. They saw right through him.
For Customer Service, this half life was a lonely feeling; an unwanted feeling of emptiness and being forgotten and unheard. He'd never felt unheard before. It made him feel like a hollow chasm was forming inside him and he was falling into it in turn. It was a feeling he didn't want.
So here he was, somewhere between life and death, somewhere beyond the living being's vision watching his murderers carry on with their lives.
He often wondered if this was a punishment in the form of some kind of torture, condemning him to a half-life of neglect for his previous one of sin and evil. Or was it some sort of pity-invoked 'second chance' of some sort. Whichever it was, he walked alone, watching the ones who killed him carry on with life like he'd never existed at all.
He watched children running around outside, playing and laughing in blissfulness, the events of the raid which he'd perished in forgotten to them. They would grow up and forget it all and live full lives while he stood there, never changing.
He watched some knights as they looked over the children, nodding to them. The warriors remembered the raid well and they would always. They'd have their pride and glory whilst he stood there, unknown to all.
No matter how hard he tried, his translucent fingers could never grasp anything to allow him to do something to announce his presence. He had to resent to walking through doors or walls which came in his way. He didn't like the feeling of doing so, because it made him feel like he was losing himself as a normal, living thing with a shape and matter. Even the residents of the castle walked right into him, sending chills up his spine as they carried on through, having not felt a thing.
Why was he here? Here, in Dreamland? A land foreign to him and full of enemies? Why was he now damned to wander this castle for what seemed like the rest of eternity?
He could've just died and disappeared forever, but no. The Holy Nightmare Fort was somewhere up there in space, having been blasted into a million pieces. His body had probably shared the same fate too.
Now all that was left of him was an essence, a faint, sickly paleness with his mind still intact.
He hated it. He could remember everything. He could remember the flames rising about him, their heat unbearable and still rising as he began to burn up. Falling rubble pinned him down and crushed his already weakened body. Distant explosions rang in his ears till he was deafened. Smoke forced its way into his lungs till he could no longer breathe, and his vision failed him. All that time, he heard screaming.
His own pitiful voice, screaming.
Screaming for help.
Screaming for an end.
An end to his suffering.
Revisiting those, sharp, painful memories made Customer Service shiver. He moved along in the darkness, not knowing where to go now.
Never knowing why.
No idea why this came. A picture of Customer Service just standing there, with everyone else around but not appearing to know he's there just came into my head, so I drank some Diet Coke and wrote away.
Perhaps he'd been possessed by Bokyaku, then something wonderfully strange turned him into ghost-like person?
