~Disclaimer~
Whadda think I was rich or something? 'course I don't own Thirteen Ghosts,
your frikkin crazy *mutters to self* Me own Thirteen Ghosts, yeah
right.........
~A/N~ Ahem, this is a test of the fanfiction writers author's note test, this is only a test.
Okay, I just wanted to know if any of my chapters seem kinda choppy, I have a bad habit of being kinda ahead of myself while I wright...so that while I'm writing like, lessay, the 2nd paragraph I'm busy thinking about the 3rd, I don't mean to it's just how I am.
Okay, now back to our regulary scheduled program.
"Life" by a Ghost
Chapter Five: Cooperation
Well....lemme start out this little bit of chapter by saying - Raisin Cereal is NASTY. Remember when I said Cyrus was evil??? Well, he is worse than evil! He was frikkin inhuman. He forced me to eat Raisin Bran every single morning I was at his house, 'cause I didn't like to eat breakfast at home (My grandmother made this sick looking runny scrambled eggs) I guess he was playing it out to look like he actually cared about me. But, like, come on, nothing says "I am an evil psychotic man" like forcing a 14 year old kid to eat RAISINS in MILK with flaky cereal crap.
Okay, just wanted to make that clear. A little bit off topic but he proves how twisted his mind was. And, that is actually where this starts. I was eating (actually gagging down) that disgusting cereal when he plopped a whole load of papers down on the table next to me. I looked up at him with a sick look on my face.
"I'm full"
He gave me a skeptical look then told me to put my bowl in the sink, which I did gratefully and then sat back down at the table, staring at the papers a little strangly, they were nasty and crusty....and um, like, kinda yellow. Totally old. He picked up a stack that was held together with a rubber band and put them on my lap, I took the rubber band off and put it on the table. The papers were filled with writing......real tiny actually, I was having trouble reading it, which basically confirmed my need for glasses. Cyrus sighed and read them to me.
"First page Dennis, it's about psychic phenomonia, the whole stack is technical stuff. You might not understand it. If you searched through the other piles though, you will see old news clippings, and magazine articles about the subject but I wanted you to see this page first."
"It says here, that psychic abilities are very rarely herditary, but more often gotten from a strong emotional sequance or event in one's life. Yours would least likely be your mother's death, because it was not really impacted into your mind, but I would guess it would be the heavy amount of, er, teasing you go through in school. Now, Dennis, anyone can have psychic abilities. Most people do, however, when it's developed it's rarely recognized and often disappears before it gets dealt with. Your case however, is strong, and was recognized, and will be further developed. Your one of the lucky ones Dennis, people with your amount of psychic ability often go insane. You are very clearly strong. Take pride in that."
I stared at him. Me strong? I couldn't even beat this little munchkin in my class in arm wrestling.
"Now, in order to make sure your powers are developed succesfully, I will need your full cooperation. Understand."
"Yep"
"Okay then" he put the paper down. "Give me your hand."
I gulped, and shook my head. "No way."
"Dennis, cooperation."
I stared at him and slowly put my hand out, he grabbed it before I even realized what was happening.
Again with the pain. It hurt like hell, I was screaming and holding my head.....but with one hand, Cyrus wouldn't let go of the other one. I struggled, I didn't see anything for a few seconds, but then I was hit with like ten different images at once. I screamed louder, and Cyrus let go of my hand. I was shaking on the floor for like ten minutes. I didn't know how to handle it. He watched from a few feet away.
When I finally opened my eyes and looked at him he smiled. I felt like running over and kicking his ass, but, heh, that wouldn't do much to him more than it would to me now would it? He asked me what I had seen, I told him to shut the hell up. He didn't, he kept bugging me about it. I just wanted to be left alone. He told me to sort through the images in my mind. I finally gave in and thought about them.
I explained to him what I had seen.
"I um, I saw a kid, .... he's like......five or six? I dunno, he's young. He was playing with this other kid...the other kid, he had a bow and arrow...a real one, and they were playing and stuff. The second kid, he shot the arrow towards the first one. Damn!! He shot him. Right through his head..I...Oh my god....." I fell silent.
"That was one of the spirits I was talking to you about, you'll have to capture him one day."
It was kinda blunt, but then again, Cyrus was a blunt kinda guy. He showed me the pictures again and I saw The First Born Son for the second time, and I felt more connected to the picture. He made me work through those images for about a month. Until I finally was able to think about them clearly. It got easier and easier. He then made me sort through mind-killing pictures of The Torso, The Bound Woman, The Torn Prince,....so on.........each story got harder and more tragic. It went on like that until my 18th birthday. I knew each of the ghosts by heart and the images I saw where crystal clear. I graduated from school, but didn't go into colleage, I saw no point to it. I moved into an inner city apartment, and worked as a "pizza dude" for a while. It kinda sucked, but Cyrus helped me when I needed help and reminded me that I could always stay with him when I needed to. I thought of him as my only friend. He still trained me, and every day I was closer to helping Cyrus with his "ghosts". I was confident in my ability to do whatever I wanted. But it wasn't until I was 20 that he finally let me in on his operation, which was, he had hundreds of people working for him, they were just waiting for me. When the day came that I finally had to find my first ghost, I quickly agreed, I saw nothing wrong with helping him.......what the hell was I thinking?
~A/N~ Ahem, this is a test of the fanfiction writers author's note test, this is only a test.
Okay, I just wanted to know if any of my chapters seem kinda choppy, I have a bad habit of being kinda ahead of myself while I wright...so that while I'm writing like, lessay, the 2nd paragraph I'm busy thinking about the 3rd, I don't mean to it's just how I am.
Okay, now back to our regulary scheduled program.
"Life" by a Ghost
Chapter Five: Cooperation
Well....lemme start out this little bit of chapter by saying - Raisin Cereal is NASTY. Remember when I said Cyrus was evil??? Well, he is worse than evil! He was frikkin inhuman. He forced me to eat Raisin Bran every single morning I was at his house, 'cause I didn't like to eat breakfast at home (My grandmother made this sick looking runny scrambled eggs) I guess he was playing it out to look like he actually cared about me. But, like, come on, nothing says "I am an evil psychotic man" like forcing a 14 year old kid to eat RAISINS in MILK with flaky cereal crap.
Okay, just wanted to make that clear. A little bit off topic but he proves how twisted his mind was. And, that is actually where this starts. I was eating (actually gagging down) that disgusting cereal when he plopped a whole load of papers down on the table next to me. I looked up at him with a sick look on my face.
"I'm full"
He gave me a skeptical look then told me to put my bowl in the sink, which I did gratefully and then sat back down at the table, staring at the papers a little strangly, they were nasty and crusty....and um, like, kinda yellow. Totally old. He picked up a stack that was held together with a rubber band and put them on my lap, I took the rubber band off and put it on the table. The papers were filled with writing......real tiny actually, I was having trouble reading it, which basically confirmed my need for glasses. Cyrus sighed and read them to me.
"First page Dennis, it's about psychic phenomonia, the whole stack is technical stuff. You might not understand it. If you searched through the other piles though, you will see old news clippings, and magazine articles about the subject but I wanted you to see this page first."
"It says here, that psychic abilities are very rarely herditary, but more often gotten from a strong emotional sequance or event in one's life. Yours would least likely be your mother's death, because it was not really impacted into your mind, but I would guess it would be the heavy amount of, er, teasing you go through in school. Now, Dennis, anyone can have psychic abilities. Most people do, however, when it's developed it's rarely recognized and often disappears before it gets dealt with. Your case however, is strong, and was recognized, and will be further developed. Your one of the lucky ones Dennis, people with your amount of psychic ability often go insane. You are very clearly strong. Take pride in that."
I stared at him. Me strong? I couldn't even beat this little munchkin in my class in arm wrestling.
"Now, in order to make sure your powers are developed succesfully, I will need your full cooperation. Understand."
"Yep"
"Okay then" he put the paper down. "Give me your hand."
I gulped, and shook my head. "No way."
"Dennis, cooperation."
I stared at him and slowly put my hand out, he grabbed it before I even realized what was happening.
Again with the pain. It hurt like hell, I was screaming and holding my head.....but with one hand, Cyrus wouldn't let go of the other one. I struggled, I didn't see anything for a few seconds, but then I was hit with like ten different images at once. I screamed louder, and Cyrus let go of my hand. I was shaking on the floor for like ten minutes. I didn't know how to handle it. He watched from a few feet away.
When I finally opened my eyes and looked at him he smiled. I felt like running over and kicking his ass, but, heh, that wouldn't do much to him more than it would to me now would it? He asked me what I had seen, I told him to shut the hell up. He didn't, he kept bugging me about it. I just wanted to be left alone. He told me to sort through the images in my mind. I finally gave in and thought about them.
I explained to him what I had seen.
"I um, I saw a kid, .... he's like......five or six? I dunno, he's young. He was playing with this other kid...the other kid, he had a bow and arrow...a real one, and they were playing and stuff. The second kid, he shot the arrow towards the first one. Damn!! He shot him. Right through his head..I...Oh my god....." I fell silent.
"That was one of the spirits I was talking to you about, you'll have to capture him one day."
It was kinda blunt, but then again, Cyrus was a blunt kinda guy. He showed me the pictures again and I saw The First Born Son for the second time, and I felt more connected to the picture. He made me work through those images for about a month. Until I finally was able to think about them clearly. It got easier and easier. He then made me sort through mind-killing pictures of The Torso, The Bound Woman, The Torn Prince,....so on.........each story got harder and more tragic. It went on like that until my 18th birthday. I knew each of the ghosts by heart and the images I saw where crystal clear. I graduated from school, but didn't go into colleage, I saw no point to it. I moved into an inner city apartment, and worked as a "pizza dude" for a while. It kinda sucked, but Cyrus helped me when I needed help and reminded me that I could always stay with him when I needed to. I thought of him as my only friend. He still trained me, and every day I was closer to helping Cyrus with his "ghosts". I was confident in my ability to do whatever I wanted. But it wasn't until I was 20 that he finally let me in on his operation, which was, he had hundreds of people working for him, they were just waiting for me. When the day came that I finally had to find my first ghost, I quickly agreed, I saw nothing wrong with helping him.......what the hell was I thinking?