25

A Ghost Of The Past

Jack

Snow crunches beneath me as I plant my feet on the ground, my toes digging into the earth, and I find that the town is buzzing with life this late afternoon.
People mill around the square, shuffling in and out of the rows of shops and buildings that line the streets before exiting and becoming once again absorbed into the constant flowing river of traffic that runs along the pavement and weaves through the tall structures that tower above them.
There is a light breeze in the air, the wind carrying the scents of the salty ocean, the pine trees in the forest and many more delectable aromas that waft through the streets of Arendelle.

The town is alive with energy and movement as the citizens go about their lives.
Each person completely oblivious of the lives that had once thrived here many centuries ago.
Of the ancient scent of history that, although faint, still wafts through the air and surfs the wind.
Of the stories that had been written here.
Of the ghosts that still linger here.

It boils my blood to see these strangers tromping through the roads of her home.
To see them mowing down everything in their path as if they own the world.
Own her, and everything she was.

It feels trespassed upon.
Like an intrusion.
An Invasion.

They have no idea.
No clue as to what life occurred here over the years.
They're too young.
Too careless to understand.
To grasp the meaning of what this place means to me.

I see her in the streets, standing out from everyone else in the midst of the ocean of people.
I hear her harmonic voice and laughter bouncing off the buildings surrounding me on all ends.
I watch as her glistening blue skirts bleed out onto the pavement before vanishing in between the brick buildings.
I gaze at her eyes when the endless blue follows me in the glass windows of the bakery as I pass by.
I see her lingering on the edges of forgotten places, where the memories of her still remain fresh and pure in the areas in which we have left our fingerprints behind.

I flinch as my eyes scan the memories of the past, sweeping over the town, the streets, the buildings, the palace, her figure, her eyes, her smile. Each memory reopening old wounds that I had worked hard to stitch back up and bury deep in the back of my mind, leaving them to heal in the silhouetted corners of untouched thoughts, where they have lain long and silently. Where I was able to forget them.
Forget her.

I avert my eyes from her ghost and continue on my path to my desired destination.
Through the paved roads where the river of pedestrians overflows.
Past the palace that was once her home.
Into the royal garden that has long been sapped of life and wilts with sorrow over these long years.
And finally, along the blanket of snow covering the ground, I stand before a plot of ground with the fading words engraved in the stone boring though me as I gaze upon her final resting place.
Where I last left her, all that she was and everything we were together.
Where I buried the memories and left the ghosts to linger.
Where I forgot her.

I sink to my knees, my eyes stinging as they remain on the etched words in the stone where they fade with age and time, as the snow melts beneath me an soaks through my pants and onto the patch of skin over my knees.
My hand lifts and hovers over the stone as my fingers trace the words, outlining each letter until I reach the end, and then, I start over.

It is not as if I feel her presence more strongly here than anywhere else, in fact, the times feel her closest to me are when I least expect them.
In the sky.
In the moon.
In the stars.
In the dreams.
In the laughter of children.
In the first snow of the year.

I see her everywhere.
I feel her everywhere.
She never leaves me.

But I feel this plot is the only place we can be alone together.
Free from shackles or prying eyes.
From distractions and interruptions.
From the constant and unwavering bustle and movement of life.

I wave my hand over the soft sheet of snow at the foot of her headstone, where an ice flower sprouts from the earth and blooms in the thick of winter.
My eyes close as a small and content smile tugs at my lips as I breathe in the winds of winter.

"Hey El,"

I lose myself to the memory of the first out of the few times I called her that, the day still clear and fresh in my mind.

"Jack no! Stop!" She giggled, her cheeks burning a rosy red as she struggled to escape my arms.

I tightened my grip around her waist.
The feeling of her body pressed against mine with the skin on her neck inches from my lips sending my mind in a daze and my heart pounding in my chest and ears. I have to shake my head a little to clear my senses and ignore the sudden and dizzying urge to plant a kiss against the patch of soft skin revealed to me.

She elbows me lightly in the ribs, causing my arms to fall loose around her, and she takes this opportunity to break free.
My eyes follow her as she stumbles away, breathless with her efforts and laughter as she gasps for air.

I become mesmerized with the twinkle in her eyes, the light in them rare and easily extinguished. But tonight, it burns brighter than the sun ever could.
Her smooth hair sits in a fluffy tangle upon the crown of her head with several blond strands slipping loose from her braid. She almost looks as if she wears a cloud over her head.

My eyes trail her delicate hand as she reaches up and tucks a dangling strand behind her ear.
I don't even try to contain the grin that spread in my feature as I inch toward her, my eyes losing in hers.

"Jack, no. Someone is going to hear us." She tells me as her fingers tangle themselves into her braid.

I smirk at her, closing the distance between us. "Aw, come on El," I say to her as my fingers entangle themselves with hers within her hair.

She smiles a little, trying to fight the tug in her lips as if she isn't sure if it's safe to smile.

"Are you trying to give me a nickname Jack Frost?" She whispers, her tone daring.

I feel the corner of my lips turn up as I whisper back, "Yes, is it working?"

"Why? Is my name too plain?" I can feel her smile as I tie her fingers with mine, her breath warm on my skin.

"Nonsense. I love your name. I don't want to cheat myself out of a single syllable."

I smile at the memory even now, when all that's left of her is the ghost of her lingering at the edges of her kingdom.
The ghost of her lips against mine.
The ghost of her fingers sliding into mine.
This plot and the entire world that she knew gone, buried beneath the earth with her.
The fragmented memories scattered from corner to corner in what was once her home.

I smile as those fragments come together piece by piece, reminding me of her, who she was, who we were and everything we knew.
They remind me of the story we wrote, of the places we saw and the lives we touched together.

"It's been awhile."

Jack

My palms grow slick with sweat in the pouch of my sweatshirt as I walk through the crowded streets, not even conscious of the icy chill that runs through me as wave after wave of people flow through me while night descends upon us, the moon arising from somewhere on the horizon as dusk settles in the sky.
It's all coming back to me now.

Everything comes flooding back to me.
The mornings we spent icing the ground beneath her window.
The afternoons we spent creating fun for the village children below.
The evenings we spent tracing shapes and figures in the condensation fogging over the glass.

She is nowhere, yet everywhere.
And then, out of nowhere, she is somewhere.

My feet come to a halt in the snow.
The world seems to become as still and as silent as the thick of night, yet it all seems to rush past me.
The world spins beneath me, sending my mind reeling faster than the winds can carry me.
The wind is knocked from my body, the air becoming thick with heat as it rises in my body, making me feel as dried up as a wilted flower.

There she stands in the midst of an ocean, standing out from every one else. From all the heads bobbing against the waves.
She is the only one I see.
Her skirts catch in the evening breeze and pool at her feet as she tries to grab the attention of the sea of people around us. Trying to be seen, heard and felt.
Eyes that will never be met. A voice that will never be heard. A hand that will never be held.
Her small, dainty hands tangling within each other as they fidget at her chest, just over her beating heart, which I'm sure is racing just as, if not faster than mine.
Her lips are full and pink with life as they quiver slightly.
Her braid rests on her left shoulder, the way she liked it, the thick, smooth strands folded over one another as it trails down her radiant skin that seems to emanate a faint glow around her figure.
Her eyes are bright and searching, the blue filling the orbs with its richness as I lose myself to them.

Her blue catches mine and I am absorbed into a universe colorful with possibility.
My mind is racing.
My blood boiling.
My heart pounding.
My breathing ceasing.
The color drains from my face as I watch her, frozen into place, unmoving, breath held.

She is here.
She is here.

Everything comes hurtling toward me, a force so great I can't catch my breath.
All the memories, every chapter, every word of what we wrote comes rushing at me as I remember.
I see her now, and I am nothing but completely alive.

"Elsa..."

Jack

I stumble through the crowd, my hands clawing at the waves of pedestrians as they hurl toward me, slamming against my body and tossing me every which way possible but toward her.
My mind is blank, yet scattered at the same time as I try to focus. Try to regain my senses.
I am desperate, gasping for air as if I am drowning.
Drowning in the warm bodies around me as the blood pumps through them and courses in their veins.
Drowning in the voices echoing off the surrounding buildings as they wash over my voice when I call her name.
Drowning in my own muddled thoughts as I try to process what my eyes are seeing.

But I can't think.
All I can do is allow my feet to carry me to her.
To let them sweep me away through this ocean thick with people in hopes of reaching her.
But no matter how much I fight the current, I don't seem to be getting any closer to her.

She is all I can see.
Every person around us, in the gap between us, evaporates even as they shove me backwards, widening the distance between us, and for a moment it seems as if we stand alone on these paved streets. Our bodies bobbing against the waves as we float there, alone as the two lonely and broken spirits we are.

I have to reach her.
I have to.

I dash through the water, darting through body after body until I have run through so many that I have lost count.
I don't care.
I don't care.

I need her.
She is my light.
The air I breathe.
The music I listen for.
The hand I reach for when I'm falling.
I need her.

I close the distance between us, my chest heaving, and I glance ahead to discover that she is gone.
Long disappeared with the current.
Carried away by the ripples.
Riding the waves to the unknown.
Leaving me to drown in darkness as I gasp for the air that isn't there and crane my neck to listen for the music I cannot hear while clawing for the hand of a ghost.

Thanks for the reviews everyone!
Hope you guys liked this chapter, let me know your thoughts if you can, always greatly appreciate the amazingly wonderful feedback!

And to BEASbeth: well I guess that's the beauty of it; you get to say whatever you want:) Though any feedback is appreciated, whether constructive or positive:) I am always working to improve as I writer.

More to come soon, stay tuned!
-birdywings