It's been exactly one week since Danny had woken up in a hospital bed, feeling his insides slowly reforming, with a tube down his throat and an oxygen mask secured over his face. One week since his weird dream about a creature called Ayla. One week since he was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital, but miraculously recovered from supposedly fatal injuries.
He's been home for three days, and he'd like to say that everything's gone back to normal.
Things, however, have been anything but.
Since waking up in the hospital, he's been seeing things. Apparitions made of light and shadow, strange creatures darting around at the edges of his vision… there was also the unnerving feeling of being watched all the time, and above all, the way he sometimes sees things change shape. Like a vending machine shimmering and becoming a humming portal of inky blackness just long enough for some strange creature to slink in or out. Danny initially thought it was some weird side effect of the oxycodone he'd had to take, but after a few minutes of research, it turns out that oxycodone doesn't cause hallucinations. Not to mention, he hasn't needed the pain meds since the day after he woke up.
In short, Danny's nerves are absolutely shot and he's not sure what the hell he's supposed to do.
As he sits against his bedroom wall, right under the window with the hood of his sweater pulled up and his knees drawn to his chest, he pointedly ignores the eerie white glow drifting lazily about. He bites at the inside of his lip until he tastes copper, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the screen of his phone.
His avoidance tactic seems to have worked for the past three hours he's been sitting here, but eventually, the strange glow drifts closer. Danny feels a shudder run through his body and his momentary distraction earns him a swift 'GAME OVER' screen. But even then, he doesn't look up. He starts a new game.
What are you playing?
The voice invades his head, forcing its way to the forefront of his consciousness and resonating in his skull like a ping-pong ball. Danny winces, pursing his lips and trying to regulate his breathing as he keeps ignoring the apparition.
You're still afraid, aren't you?
Danny tries to ignore it, but the apparition drifts close enough for an icy chill to blow over Danny's skin. A shiver runs through his body, from fear or from the cold, he's not sure. Whatever it is, he's hoping that if he ignores it long enough, it'll go away.
The apparition moves, then floats lower to hover closely to Danny's right side, as though it's trying to sit beside him and watch him play his game.
I shouldn't have followed you from the hospital, but I never imagined a human would ever be able to properly see me again. I've been dead for a while, that's for certain. Death sure is lonely.
Danny's character loses their last life, and the Game Over screen taunts him again.
I assumed that because I believed in God, death would mean peace. And it is peaceful, in a way.
Danny starts a new round.
But it's depressing to wander around without being able to do anything.
Danny loses a life.
Games sure have come a long way since I was alive. Phones, too. I never imagined phones would have such neat touchscreens.
GAME OVER.
For all his attempts to ignore the apparition, its shy, lonely chatter and the morose air it gives off seems to hit Danny right in the chest. He almost slams his head back against the wall in another pointless attempt to knock the crazy out of his brain, but catches himself with a deep breath through his nose. After listening for the telltale sounds of his parents long enough to determine that he's the only one home, Danny swallows and starts a new game.
"Phones break a lot easier, and they're a lot more expensive," he says in a voice still hoarse from disuse.
The sad aura- for lack of a better word- that the apparition gives off almost immediately flares bright and warm like a sunbeam, sending a strange, unfamiliar sense of contentment and joy shooting through Danny's skin and straight into his bones. He knows the feeling certainly isn't his own, but he can't help the way his tense muscles and clenched jaw loosen a bit.
Damn, you're talking to me! I'm so glad!
"Nobody's home to be all 'Danny, who are you talking to?' or 'Danny, what are you looking at, there's nothing there', so as long as you don't… I don't know, what do you do? Possess people? I can talk to you for a bit." Danny says in a tiny, rather pathetic voice.
As he clears his throat, the apparition lets out a grating sound that's probably meant to be laughter.
No, no, ghosts don't possess people. We cause some weird stuff to happen when we're bored, but the malicious stuff is done by spirits. I'm not gonna possess you.
"Oh, thank God for that."
I mean thank him if you want to, but judging by my own experience with death, I'm not sure if the guy cares enough to interfere.
The absurdity of the response, coupled with the infectious euphoria the apparition- wait, no, it called itself a ghost- gives off in warm, soothing waves makes a quiet bark of laughter creep unbidden from his throat. Despite the fact that he still isn't quite ready to accept that this might be his new normal, Danny risks his sanity and looks at the ghost directly for the first time since he first encountered it one night in the hospital.
It looks surprisingly similar to the shitty CGI ghosts that you see in paranormal documentaries, but more refined and...gentle, in a way. Where the CGI is often shown as terrifying, empty-eyed husks of human souls, the real thing is in the shape of a glowing white human, its edges rippling slightly despite the lack of a breeze. Its eyes are solid white, but glimmer like polished opals, and a cheery smile creeps across its pale face.
This ghost looks like a young man in a flowing white hospital gown, with a nasal cannula winding from his nostrils around his ears and disappearing down the back of the gown. If he were alive, Danny would guess he's in his early twenties.
You looked at me! You really can see me!
"Hey, I thought I was pretty obvious with my whole 'maybe if I pretend it's not there, it'll go away' tactic," Danny quips wryly, finding it strangely easy to talk to the ghost despite the last dregs of nervousness that plague his mind.
That tactic doesn't work, kid. Trust me, I tried it with cancer, and look at me now.
The blunt admittance makes Danny flinch violently enough that his phone falls from his hands and clatters to the floor. The ghost reaches for the phone, but his hands phase right through it and he heaves an impression of a sigh.
Sorry, I suppose that was a little dark. I forget that not everyone enjoys dark humor.
With a sigh, Danny retrieves his phone and checks the screen for cracks. "Jeez, you really are out of touch. Have you heard of Gen Z humor?"
The ghost cocks an eyebrow. Gen Z?
"Kids my age. Dark humor, nonsensical memes, that kinda thing."
A look of uncertainty crosses his face.
M… memes?
"Not important," Danny says quickly with a wave of a hand before starting a new game. "Bottom line is that dark humor is 110% fine around people my age."
As Danny gets close to beating his high score, the ghost still giving off that bright, peaceful energy, his phone buzzes and a notification drops down from the top of the screen. His fingers sweep over the pause button, then tap on the notification from his group chat with Sam and Tucker.
Sam (12:20):
Hey Danny, how you doing?
Is that your friend?
"Yeah," Danny says as he tries to think of an acceptable response.
Why haven't you visited them? Or gone outside? You certainly can, you know.
He swallows hard.
Danny (12:22):
I'm okayish. Still seeing weird things.
Tucker (12:22):
lmao are u hallucinating paulina
Who's Paulina?
"Nobody important," Danny grits out as he aggressively shoots back a reply. "Just a girl."
Danny (12:23):
NO I AM NOT.
Sam (12:23):
dear god I hope not. I already cant stand seeing her at school, I can't imagine being forced to look at her 24/7
A classmate?
Tucker (12:24):
ahgscdjs do u remember when he spilled his bank account password and it was PaulinaFenton25? fuckin priceless
Sam (12:24):
Thank you, tucker, for once again bringing that repressed memory to the forefront of my brain.
Tucker (12:25):
No problem, that'll be 25 bucks
Danny (12:26):
Okay, can we drop it already? I'm already losing my mind enough without you guys bringing my stupid middle school memories back to haunt me.
Your friends are pretty funny, I have to say. It's a shame I can't talk to them. Oh, did you tell them about me?
With an exasperated sigh, Danny drags a hand through his greasy hair- he'd been too paranoid to shower while he had some ghost watching him all the time- and replies, "Yes. No. I don't know, they're pretty sure I'm just freaking out. Even though they saw what happened in the basement. Hell, if that whole 'Ayla' thing wasn't just some coma-induced dream, then one of them even got overshadowed by something paranormal!" He takes a moment to calm his mind. "I just don't want them to think I've gone nuts."
That's understandable, the ghost says thoughtfully, but they seem to care about you, so maybe you should let them know that you can see things you shouldn't be able to see.
"Okay, fine, but how am I going to prove to them that it's actually real and I'm not crazy?!"
Despite his obvious anger, the ghost lets out that strange, rattling chuckle again and watches him with a smile.
Leave that to me.
Leaving the house is something Danny's been reluctant to do ever since the drive home from the hospital, but not because he's tired or sore or traumatized, as his parents and sister seem to think. Well, he knows Jazz thinks this because she's tried to talk to him and Danny royally screwed that up by yelling at some paranormal thing he'd detected in the room. Mom and Dad… well, they've been too busy dealing with the destroyed lab to check in on him.
He shakes his head and pulls his hood down lower over his head despite the sun beating down on the sidewalk and making him sweat like mad. Beside him, the ghost drifts lazily and chatters nonsensically as a sort of distraction.
Yet even with the ghost making an effort to keep him calm and focused, Danny can't help but feel dozens of eyes burning into him like a campfire spark dancing across his skin. Weird pressure on his body and mind when something tries to figure out what he is. Hell, Danny's not even really sure what he is anymore.
Regardless, he keeps his eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of him and tries not to think about the countless things drifting past him, ogling him, whispering in his head, What are you? Who are you? Who is he? What is he?
Danny purses his lips and tries to hold down his flip-flopping stomach as he crosses the last road before Sam's house, where she and Tucker apparently are.
Will your friends be okay with you coming along without asking?
"Yeah, it's kind of… a Thing, I guess? Where we just turn up at each other's houses uninvited. I dunno, Sam and Tucker's families think my parents are… eccentric or something. They don't like my parents, but they're fine with me." He lets out a weak attempt at laughter as another creature brushes past his consciousness. "Maybe they think they can prevent me from turning out as crazy as my folks are. But I am waaay too far gone now."
What do you mean by that?
At the withering look Danny shoots him, the ghost laughs again, this time with a tinge of awkwardness.
Sorry kid, dumb question.
Danny kind of wants to shoot back a snarky reply, but chooses not to and lets out a long, slow breath instead as he walks up the steps to knock on the elaborately-carved wooden door at the front of the Manson house. After a few moments, there's the sound of someone shouting 'coming!' from inside and heavy footsteps racing closer. Before Danny can force his face into something vaguely resembling a smile, the door creaks open, revealing Sam in a baggy black sweater with an Ouija board planchette printed across the chest and dark grey sweatpants. Her black hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she doesn't have makeup on, which means it's probably a cold day in hell.
After blinking at him owlishly for a few seconds, Sam's eyes light up and she catches him in a headlock, dragging him forward and aggressively giving him a noogie. "Jeez, I thought you'd never get out of that house! Welcome back to the land of the liv- oh, gross, your hair's greasier than the Nasty Burger grills."
Her face scrunches up in disgust and she wipes her hand on her pants, which actually makes a smile creep across Danny's face. This seems to comfort his friend when she looks up, and she returns the smile with one of her own. "You look like hell."
"Thanks, I feel like it, too." Danny snorts as the tightly-wound nerves of the past few days gradually work themselves out and melt away.
As Sam closes the door, Danny lets his gaze flick to the side, briefly watching as the ghost passes through the door as though it's not even there. Sam doesn't notice his brief side-eye, which is good. Maybe. He doesn't really know. He just wants to get this whole 'I see dead people' crap off his chest in a way that his friends will believe.
God, this had better work.
From there, Danny kicks off his shoes and follows Sam through the impressive halls of the Manson house, winding down a route so familiar, Danny doesn't even really need to think about it at all. They reach the broad staircase leading down to the basement without issue, but as soon as Danny takes a step down the stairs, a familiar and unwelcome chill lances through his body, making him gasp in alarm as a burning cold presses into his bones. Sam cocks an eyebrow at him. "You okay, Danny? If you're still sore, we can call Tucker up and hang out on the main floor instead."
"N-no, no, I just-" Danny clears his throat to level his shaking voice, "-it's nothing."
An old man's voice hisses in his head and he tries to ignore the way it jabs at his brain like a child poking some dead creature on the sidewalk with a stick.
WHAT ARE YOU.
WHY ARE YOU IN MY DOMAIN.
"You're flinching a lot, dude."
"I am?" Danny replies as he forces a smile that he hopes looks somewhat convincing. "I dunno why, I'm not in pain at all."
Sam gives him a funny look- God damn it Fenton, that was supposed to be convincing- but just rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively. "Fine, but if you end up overworking yourself or whatever, I'm not helping you back up the stairs. Tuck can do that."
"I'm not overworking myself, I just-" something scratches the skin at the back of his neck painfully, making him jump with a yelp and slap a hand over the affected spot, "-okay, fine. Yeah, I came here because, um… " he can hear his 'friendly ghost' struggling with some angry, hissing creature behind them, "... I guess I've had a lot of weird stuff going on. Paranormal stuff."
Sam snorts. "This is gonna be good."
"I'm serious, Sam!" he snaps at the same moment two ghostly, disjointed voices rattle painfully in his head.
LEAVE MY DOMAIN. HALF-BREED. MONGREL. HYBRID. MISFIT. ABOMINATION.
Oh my GOD, old man! The kid's FINE!
Something in the way Danny snapped back at her must have been strange enough for her to realize he's not playing around, because her eyes glimmer with something like understanding and her teasing smile fades into something more serious. As the ghosts' heated struggle continues and the strange spirit continues hurling insults into Danny's brain- NOT helping my self-esteem, dude- he keeps his eyes trained on the steps in front of him. Sam takes a breath.
"Yeah, you seem a bit… off," she begins, reaching over to pull Danny's hand away from the back of his neck and stopping short. "You're bleeding."
"I am?" Danny brings his hand in front of him, and sure enough, a red stain is smudged across his palm.
They reach the bottom of the stairs then, and Sam turns Danny around to inspect the cut. "When did this happen? It looks brand-new!"
He swallows hard. "Um. It… it happened when I jumped. Something… I guess something… clawed me."
For a time, he avoids looking Sam in the eye. Even so, he can feel her watching him like he's a puzzle she can't figure out, like she's weighing her options and his words and the evidence before her. Finally, she places a hand on his shoulder and Danny turns to meet her eyes.
She's not smiling, but she's not looking at him like he's crazy. She… actually looks incredibly serious, and it's strangely reassuring.
"You have some explaining to do when we get to the theatre room."
Danny lets out an awkward laugh. "Y-yeah, I guess I do, huh?"
The rest of their walk is spent in silence- well, except for the howling apparition that only he can hear- but it's not uncomfortable. In fact, Danny's grateful for it. It gives him a chance to try planning out what to say in the least 'Crazy Fenton' way possible.
Because if he does this badly and Tucker doesn't believe him, ohhh boy. He's never going to hear the end of it.
They reach the door, and before Danny can completely steel himself for what's ahead, Sam unceremoniously kicks the doors open and shouts, "HEY TUCK, GUESS WHO'S HERE!"
Tucker lets out a cut-off shriek of alarm, whipping around fast enough to make himself wince. The grimace doesn't last long, however, when he realizes that Danny's standing in the doorway with an awkward smile on his face. He raises one hand in a halfhearted wave. "Hey, Tuck."
Tucker moves with more athleticism than Danny's ever seen, vaulting clumsily over the couch and slamming into Danny to clasp him in a tight hug. "Oh my God, man, you're not dead!"
Before he can think better of it, Danny barks out a laugh. "That's debatable."
Tucker stiffens suddenly, and Danny wonders if he's gone too far with the joke, but instead, Tucker backs away and aggressively turns Danny around. "What happened to your neck?"
"That's what he's gonna explain to us." Sam interjects, and a strange heaviness settles over the room.
With an awkward sigh, Danny rubs at his upper arms. "Yeah, uhh… it's a weird, crazy, stupid story, but I don't know who else will believe me."
As Sam returns to the couch where the boys sit, a bowl of chips in her hands, she finds herself glancing worriedly at Danny again. He's still flinching every few seconds, his neutral expression incredibly forced, and despite Tucker having bandaged up the slash on the back of his neck, Danny still rubs at it in intervals. Seeing this in her friend, who's only ever jumpy or withdrawn around Dash, is jarring.
Not to mention, his eyes are ringed with deep purple bruises, and his gaze flicks briefly around the room every once in a while, fixating on something she can't see. He's also jiggling one leg up and down, a habit that she and Tucker have come to associate with his bouts of anxiety.
Shaking herself to clear her head of distracting thoughts, she skirts around the couch and places the bowl down on the table before planting herself across from Danny and tossing a chip in her mouth. "Okay. Spill it."
Danny blinks absently as though he'd forgotten where he was. After a moment of confusion, his expression changes to recognition, and he heaves a sigh. "So… basically… "
He trails off and doesn't say anything for a long time. So long, in fact, that Sam's not entirely sure if Danny's going to share anything at all. She's just about to snap her fingers in front of his face to make sure he's still with them, when he drops his face in his hands and mumbles something so muffled, she can't make it out.
"Danny, you're gonna have to say that again. With less hand-in-your-mouth this time." Tucker quips.
After taking another moment to drag his hands through his hair, Danny repeats himself.
"I've been seeing dead people since I woke up in the hospital."
The silence that follows is stretched as tight as piano wire, ready to snap at the slightest touch of a blade. Time passes infinitely slow, but dizzyingly fast all at once, and Sam tries to count the minutes they remain like that. She uses her heartbeat as a gauge, but she still doesn't know how much time passes.
Eventually, Tucker takes a deep breath. "I think the Fenton Crazy really has rubbed off on you, man. I'm sorry, but dead people?"
"I'm not lying!" Danny snaps, but with less bite and more desperation than one would expect. "Ghosts are real. They're real, and they won't shut up!"
"Danny, take a breath-" Sam begins, but Danny's head snaps up and he glares at her.
"What will it take?"
"What?"
"What will it take to get you two to believe me?!"
Sam cocks an eyebrow. "I do believe you. I saw you get that cut out of thin air."
"Wait, what?" Tucker asks incredulously, looking between Sam and Danny in surprise. "You're kidding me, right? You guys are both crazy."
"Tucker," Danny says in a quiet voice, "I am currently listening to a ghost screaming at me in some eldritch-horror language and I am very close to losing my shit. Not on you, but I am actually losing my mind."
Tucker opens his mouth to say something in response, probably a snarky retort, but the lights and TV screen flicker for a solid five seconds before returning to normal. The door creaks open, then quickly slams shut. The bowl of chips shoots off the table and crashes to the floor, sending salt and vinegar shrapnel flying everywhere.
Neither Sam nor Tucker are speaking now. Danny is staring in shock at something in an empty corner of the room.
The silence lasts for almost a full minute before Danny slowly asks, "You… you guys saw that, right?"
"The stuff right out of Paranormal Activity? Yeah, I saw it," Tucker wheezes, lifting up his hat and wiping his sweat-soaked brow before replacing it crookedly.
"Was that a… a ghost?" Sam asks tentatively, and feels a thrill of both fear and excitement jolt through her from her head to her toes when her friend nods.
He slumps back into the couch, rubbing at his eyes in exasperation with a groan. "Yeah. It was a ghost."
"I think I'm gonna pass out," Tucker says, and Danny looks at him.
"The ghost is friendly. He's just… what." He glances back over at the empty corner of the room. "What? Was there a reason you needed to do that? I appreciate it, but the chips were an unnecessary mess."
Silence. Then, Danny tilts his head back to look at the ceiling and mutters, "He says he wanted to help me convince you, so he chased off the other ghost and came by to pull off a poltergeist. I guess."
With another horrified wheeze, Tucker says, "This is the nightmare scenario."
"Welcome to my world," Danny laughs, moments before the lights flicker again and he levels a glare over the back of the couch. "Knock it off."
This… is gonna be one hell of a thing to get used to.