As the summary says, this is a re-make of A Christmas Carol, re-written with characters from Kingdom Hearts. The writing is different, and this has been beta'ed by three different people, and myself. So I know that if you run into a grammar mistake, it isn't right; it's just a different writing style. Also, there are no conjunctions, and the characters speak differently. As in olden language.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts characters, nor do I own Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

Finally, before you read, this is for one of my best friends, Fire. I have no clue how to say this without sounding mushy... but here it goes anyway. Fire, you were the very first friend I made online and one of the closest, and I've never held a friend so long without losing them. I just wanted to give you something really special this Christmas, so this is for you. Merry Christmas, Fire! You deserve a lot more than this story, but I don't know how to give something more. Please like it… Now go and read, shoo!

Sora's Ghost

Sora was dead, to begin with. Let no one ever doubt this. His wooden cradle was buried six feet under, tears had been wept, the minister had signed the registration, and his personal items had been swept away into the arms of his many friends and family.

Sora has about as much of a pulse as there was sanity in a room of screaming rabid fan girls. A very small room.

Of course, many would say that fan girls do, in fact, have some sanity left inside of them. But those who say this, I digress, are fan girls themselves and would rather jump off a cliff then see their favorite character get hurtled into a raging stampede of cattle. So therefore, Sora has as much of a pulse as said fan girls' had sanity.

Did Riku know he was dead? Of course he did! Riku had a solid head on his shoulders and a good mind in his head and many thoughts in his mind. And they all pointed to one thing: Sora was dead. Of course, any best friend would notice when their counterpart stopped breathing, face stony cold as their life trickled out in thin rivets of red blood that seeped from the corner of his mouth, freezing and crystallizing in the snow covered street as the carriage driver frantically called for help.

Speaking of the incident that, of course, remained etched in Riku's mind like stone and haunted his restless sleep at night, I do declare, thusly, that Sora is dead. I swear upon it. And so would Riku who, on the outside, could not have cared less for mourning a good friend as much as a business partner. But on the inside, lay curled in the depths of his frozen heart, lay a broken warmth that just would not go away.

Riku had never painted over his deceased comrade's name, nor cleaned out the desk or taken down the nameplate that read Sora Jinto off of the now dusty desk. Papers were still sloppily placed everywhere where the brunet had been, but Riku didn't mind too much. He always had given them a disgruntled look… when Sora was alive. But now, he just looked at them with a solemn, slightly wistful, gaze.

Riku never let out just how much he missed his best friend. Seldom few even thought he cared. Actually, let me clarify that. No one knew how Riku felt on the inside; all they saw was his frosty cold demeanor and left it at that. Plain and simple.

Oh! but if they only knew. If they knew that his heart was not as frozen solid as they deemed it, and that his hardened gaze did once become soft and secure. His silver hair was not that color because it matched his icy expressions and attitude. His cold green eyes were not hardened by his behavior. His pale skin was not borne from Satan itself, and his brute strength did not point to the fact that he spent most of his time in an alley and beating anyone up who had come to pass.

Riku had only done that once. And they had deserved it that time.

The bitter cold nipped at his pale skin that was as pale as a ghost, face illuminated every now and then by the snow-covered lamp lights that stood tall on their solid black pillars. He passed by happy couples, squealing children, dogs dancing merrily and tumbling through the thick blankets of snow. Windows, lit only by the gentle light of a candle, were blown out one by one and the men in their proper white aprons came to flip the sign hanging on the banister in front of their stores from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSE'.

Hushed whispers exchanged between good friends as they giggled, glancing in Riku's directions, blushing softly. Old music crooned through open windows, the sultry voices blending in with ringing bells and laughter that cascaded through the air.

Riku hated it.

No one stopped by to get from him the news, not even the time of day. Perhaps they were afraid that Riku would not give it? Or perhaps they had never tried. No one asked him how things were going with the family because, for one, Riku had no family, and second, no one bothered to care.

But Riku did not care. He may have cared before, before the death of his partner. But not now. All he liked to do now was run his small business down the street, where he was headed for now, read the evening paper, drink his coffee, and go to bed.

Before I waste your time and continue the rant, let us start this fairy tale. At the risk of being cliché…

Once upon a time, on this very Christmas Eve, Riku sat at his desk, eyes half lidded, one hand cupping his cheek, elbow resting firmly on the desk for support. His quill scratched back and forth across the parchment, numbers, letters, blurring into a fascinating arrangements of shapes in his mind. But there were no shapes. Just plain old mathematical accounting.

The door to the small counting shop was slightly ajar, and Riku didn't bother himself in closing it. The coldness nibbled at the silver-haired man's nose, and made the roaring fire in the heater hiss and spit, crackling the wood that it burned. The windows creaked as the howling winds of winter barreled into them. But the windows of the old building stood their place, not giving into their bombarding attacks.

And then, the bell above the door jingled (Riku often had the urge to rip the cursed thing from it's hook), alerting him of the presence of a newcomer.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Riku!" the newcomer said gaily, a wide smile over his boyish face, cheeks cutely tinged with pink and ears looking like pieces of raw meat from the blistering cold. He had on an overly fluffy woolen scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, green, and a pair of bright red mittens on his hands. His blue eyes shone with a brilliant light, and his mussed blond hair was sprouting in every direction from the wind.

When Riku didn't respond, Tidus' face fell a bit. However, a moment later, it was back and brighter then ever. "Merry Christmas Eve!" he quipped, as if Riku hadn't heard him the first time.

"Whatever," Riku sniffed, not bothering to look up at the other employee.

Not at all affected by his boss' behavior, Tidus bustled in, stamping his feet so that snow slid off of his worn brown boots and soaking into the wicker mat on the floor by the threshold.

"Oh come now, Riku!" Tidus said. "Lighten up a bit! It is Christmas Eve! A reason to be merry, not sulk in here by yourself!"

"And what reason have you to be merry, eh?" Riku scoffed, still not looking up; he was busy copying lines in his tiny, neat scrawl. "You and your family are poor, so how can you possibly be happy?"

"Now, now, Riku, do not say that!" Tidus laughed. "It is not the wealth of the family that matters during Christmas! It is the love!" He grinned, eyes dancing with mirth. "And if wealth matters, then you should be joyous on this fine Christmas! You are rich enough!"

"Whatever," Riku repeated sternly, eyes flicking up to send a cross glare at the young man.

"Oh do not be so cold!" Tidus reprimanded.

"How can I not be cold?" Riku snapped, finally looking up. "With all of this Christmas trash lining the streets, crowded stores, everyone getting in the way just to say 'Merry Christmas'! Ha! I say curse it all, and get it all out of my way." The ink at the end of Riku's quill was starting to dry, but the owner took no notice of it. "I say keep your holiday; I have no need of it."

"But everybody loves Christmas!" Tidus insisted. His voice was slightly muffled by the thick, hand-knitted sweater that twined around his slim neck. Tugging it down a bit so he could speak more clearly, he said, "Why not let yourself enjoy the holiday? Me and my wife would be glad to have you!"

"Whatever," Riku said nonchalantly. He went back to scribbling on his paper, numbers forming long lists that were useless, to be forgotten by the clerk in the morning.

"I am serious!" Tidus said, chuckling. "Me and Selphie want you to come and have dinner with us!"

"I don't want to have dinner with you or your wife," Riku hissed. With a sigh, he asked, in a heavy voice, "Why did you have to go and get married to that woman, anyway?"

Not at all affected by those cold words, the blond replied, "Because I fell in love, Riku!"

"Hmph, love!" Riku snorted. Giving up on working on his papers tonight, Riku gently licked the end of the quill before rubbing it on a ink-splattered handkerchief on his desk, cleaning it as best as he could before screwing the lid back onto the inkwell and returning the two items to their proper stations. Only when this task was accomplished did he speak again. "I have no time for your merry 'spirit', Tidus. Now go back to your poor family and let me be."

"What could you possibly be doing tomorrow?" Tidus exclaimed. "It is Christmas time, Riku! A time you once held just as dear as I! A time to spend time with your loved ones and friends!"

"I have no family, nor loved ones, nor friends!" Riku spat heatedly, standing up at last; he stood a good head above Tidus. But this didn't matter, seeing as Tidus was standing several yards away from the man. "And I don't need to share with you and yours!"

"We could be friends, Riku," Tidus offered. "And my family would welcome you, you know that!"

"Whatever," Riku growled. Licking his fingers, he clamped the over the wick of a burning candle. The flame hissed, flickered, and then died with only a trail of dwindling smoke as a clue as to the flame's existence. "I do not like Christmas, what makes you think I'd like to spend it with you? Your family is poor, without a silver bit to it's name! I do not even understand how you can possibly enjoy it!"

Chest puffing out indignantly, Tidus drew a deep breath before speaking. "Christmas time is not a season to spend counting your quarters, judging what you have and others don't, or what others have that you don't! It is a humble time in which we all forgive each other and may make peace with each other, cherishing our happy times and the happy times to come! It brings us all together, Riku! It is not about presents or tinsel, holly or wealth! It is a time of love and peace, and for all those who take part in these holidays, and God bless them! And when our Christmas time rolls around, to remind us of the things we have and the warmth we feel, then God bless it!"

A clerk, who Riku had forgotten was there (his room was in a small room attached to the main counting quarters) burst into applause, still in his seat, face bright in encouragement and merriment. Tidus beamed at him just as brightly, laughing. But with a quick glance at the icy look on Riku's face, the clerk quieted, coughing a bit before going about his closing duties.

"Enough of this frivolous foolishness," Riku commanded, tone better. "Go, go about your day, Tidus. Spend your day on that God blessed holiday; enjoy that feeling of warmth, until you receive a cold slap of reality the next morning. And I will not be here to bandage your burning cheek for you! Go!"

"I shall!" Tidus said, smile never faltering as if Riku had not just predicted a most treacherous outcome of the holiday spirit. "Merry Christmas, Riku!"

"Good night."

"And a Happy New Year!"

"Good night!"

And with a swift tilt of his head, a twinkling laugh, a swoosh of battered cloak, Tidus was gone.

Riku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he could feel a headache coming on. Perfect.

The man was just making plans that included sleeping through the entire Christmas day when a short man walked up to him; the clerk.

"I suppose you would like the entire day off tomorrow, wouldn't you?" Riku muttered, glowering at him. The look didn't have much bite in it, though, his resolve slipping away due to fatigue.

"If it is convenient, sir," the clerk replied with a small bow.

"It is not convenient," Riku said. "But I suppose you can have the day off… no one shall be coming to the bank on Christmas day."

"Thank you, sir. 'Tis most generous of you." Another bow, deeper this time and a small smile playing on the shorter, but older, man's lips.

"Just come in that much earlier the day after," Riku said.

"I will, sir." The clerk looked like he was about to say something else, mouth hanging open slightly, but he shut it again. With a small grunt, as if it could excuse the notion, the clerk swept past, keeping his eyes on the coat rack and not meeting the sea-green eyes that were bearing into his back. Swinging a heavy, worn coat over his shoulder, pressing a hat onto his balding head, and picking up a cane leaning on the wall, the old clerk hobbled from Riku's sight and out into the frosty night.

Riku was just about to leave himself when the door jangled open for the second time that night. Looking up wearily, Riku watched as two more people came in, a man and a woman. The man had flaming red hair that stuck up, but unlike Tidus', it stuck up in only one direction. He had on a dark brown coat with matching scarf, a packet of parchment tucked under his arm and a fountain pen in hand. The woman standing nest to him had black hair that was cropped short, just below her earlobe, and thick earmuffs covering her ears; her dark eyes danced merrily with mischief as she beamed at Riku.

"Hello, Mr. Riku!" she chirped happily, shifting from foot to foot with her arms folded behind her back as she grinned deviously at him. "Looking as handsome as always, hm?"

"Yuffie, shush for a moment, ya?" the redhead asked, mahogany eyes shining sympathetically at Riku. "Hey. Long time no see."

Riku nodded at the newcomers, waiting impatiently for them to state the reason they were troubling him so late at night. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can!" Yuffie spoke excitedly. "You see, the orphanage down the street is not doing too hot and…"

"I'll take care of this, Yuffie," Wakka chuckled, evidently not willing to let Yuffie mess this up. "The orphanage down the street is having a bit of trouble and the government's going to close it down. It needs a lot of repairs, and it takes up too much money. So we are collecting contributions from people in the town, and since your business runs so well, we figured you'd have a healthy sum to give up to support the cause." With a friendly smile, Wakka asked, "What should I put you down for?"

Riku's eyebrow twitched. "Nothing."

"You wish to be anonymous?" Yuffie asked, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.

"No, I wish to be left alone," Riku replied frostily. "Put me down for nothing; I have nothing to contribute."

"But Riku!" Yuffie pleaded. "The orphanage needs the money!"

"And what has the orphanage ever done for me?" Riku snorted. "Leave here, gentleman and lady, I have nothing to give to you. Good day to you both."

"But…"

"Good day!"

Wakka and Yuffie quickly glanced at each other, silently agreeing that the case was a lost one. With a few muttered "Happy Holidays," they both walked out of the room, bells jangling with a wistful tune in their retreat.

An hour or so later, clock ticking away the dismal time as it rounded on 11 'o' clock, the sound of laughter and chatter absent from the cold air. Bells had stopped ringing, shop lights were extinguished; sloppily built snow men lined the roads, tinsel and holly twining around lamp posts that were planted by the cobblestone sidewalk that was covered in a thin layer of ice and powdery white. Dusty light from the lampposts bathed Riku and the snow in a warm glow, a perfect contrast to the bitter ice that incased the young man's heart.

The cold iron gate, which surrounded Riku's old house, was frigid and slippery with ice as his bare hands fumbled for the catch on the pole. Finding it, he flipped it up and pushed it open, the rusty metal swinging in its hinges and letting Riku walk the rest of the way up to his door. He did not bother to close and lock it; no one ever came within five yards of the house, anyway.

He had his keys half-drawn from their home in his pocket when he saw it. Now, as I've told you, Riku has a solid head on his shoulders and a good mind in his head and many thoughts in his mind. It was what these thoughts were telling him that made him second-doubt himself, though.

Instead of the usual door knocker upon the wreath-less woodened paneling, a doorknocker in the molding of a wolf with the knocker hanging from it's jaws, Riku saw Sora's face, staring at him with cold, bronze eyes. Spiky hair the way it always was, defying all laws of physics that Riku had ever cared to learn of from a book. Momentarily breathless, Riku stared until an involuntary blink shielded his gaze for a twinkle of a moment. But when he re-opened his eyes, there was no face of a deceased best friend; just the cold, bronze wolf, staring at him with sightless eyes and an unfeeling glare.

Panting slightly, sea-green eyes wide, cold breath billowing in thick spurts in front of his face as they condensed into clouds that hung over his brows, Riku blinked again. And again. But the doorknocker did not change a third time. The same old wolf, there from the time he had inherited it from his great grandfather.

"Urgh…" Riku groaned, running numb fingers through his mane of silver hair. Too little sleep, he decided. Fumbling with the keys in the bitter wind, Riku managed to insert one into the keyhole and turn it until the door sounded with a reassuring clink of bolts. Pulling the key out and returning it to the pocket of his long overcoat, Riku twisted the doorknob and pushed it open with a jolt, albeit harshly as he scurried inside.

Sora's face swimming in and out of his mind, clogging his senses, Riku carefully peered around through the darkness. He looked at the door before locking it shut for the night, a little part of his mind thinking he would see the rest of the brunet's body sticking out from the door. Riku made a mental note to himself to lock this part of his mind away in solitary confinement as soon as possible.

The house was dark and cold, and Riku was sure that if it dropped one or two more degrees in here, he would start seeing his own breath freezing before his very eyes. Riku felt for the box of matches that he always kept on the side table by the door and his cold hands grasped at it greedily, picking it up and sliding the casing open. After pulling out one of the thin wooden rods, he attempted to light it, striking it some five times against the box before realizing he was trying to light the wrong end. Grumbling something even he couldn't make sense of, Riku flipped it around and scraped it roughly along the side of the case. With a hiss and a spark, the end ignited in a small flame, it's wonderful warmth soothing Riku's frostbitten hands.

Carefully carrying the match, it's feeble light struggling to stay aflame, he lowered it into a glass case, the fire catching on a burnt wick. Once assured that his lamp was properly burning, Riku flicked his wrist until the match died out in a whip of air. Tossing it into the unlit furnace (Riku didn't bother lighting it, he did not mind the cold too much), he slowly made his way to the stairs that led to the upper floor of his house. His house, not his home. It had ceased being his home as soon as the last breath left Sora's body, and when the casket was lowered, leaving Riku alone in the house he had once shared with his best friend.

Ignoring the grumbling pain in his stomach, Riku sauntered up the steps, eyes drooping as he tried to suppress a large yawn. At the top of the stairs, there was a left and right. Down the left led to a room Riku hadn't entered in a long time… the room was Sora's, and Riku feared venturing into it. He had managed to gain some control over his bad memories, and he did not want to lose that control. So he went right, past the cold bathroom, past the cupboard, and into his own room.

His door was shut, but he pushed it open. The curtains were drawn tightly over the window and stayed like that both night and day. The hard wood floor was freezing and icy, hollow sounding as Riku stepped across it to his bed where he sat down with a soft plop, shrugging off his long overcoat before doing so and throwing it lazily over the chair. It missed by at least a foot, landing heavily on the rug in a crumpled heap. But Riku didn't bother to fix this. Instead, he kicked off his boots before lying down, softly closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose again. His mind flooded with the day's events; Tidus, the charity people, the door knocker, Sora… Sora's face… in the doorknocker.

With an aggravated sigh, Riku mumbled, "Whatever," to no one in particular before crawling under the sheets. He did not even bother to get changed into something more suitable for sleeping, drowsiness washing over his aching body and easing the steady pounding in his head. The day had been a long one, and for Riku, he was looking forward towards its closing. Maybe, if he was lucky, there would be a snowstorm tonight that would keep people inside of their houses and away from him. Riku's plans? To sleep the day away, and for once, not get haunted by the nightmares of his past.

The pounding in his ears was slowly returning, he found moments later, but more clearly defined. The pounding turned into scraping… a scraping sound? Now this was new. With a feral growl, Riku tossed and turned in his bed, stubbornly trying to get rid of the cursed racket. But it was no use. Groaning, he sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes in annoyance. But the scraping sound didn't stop. No, as a matter of fact, it grew louder. And louder. And terrifyingly closer.

Heart racing, breath quickening and eyes wide, Riku waited. Yes, it was definitely getting closer, and not in his own head. And… a whisper. Riku could hear whisperings. A soft, haunting melody that echoed deep within the house, rumbling and trembling as it entered the man's ears. His name. Someone was softly calling Riku's name.

Sitting up straighter, fingers unconsciously tugging the sheets closer to himself, a distant memory rang through his mind. The voice… sounded so much like Sora's. During thunderstorms, or any kind of storm, Sora would call Riku's name like that, asking to be let in, seeking comfort in the darkness from his best friend, frightened by the weather that billowed through the perilous night.

"Riku… Riku…"

Riku shook his head, scooting backwards a bit more. It sounded so much like Sora, but the brunet was long since dead! Riku would not believe it! He could not believe it!

The scraping noise stopped right outside Riku's door and the silver-haired man realized with a start that he had left in unlocked. And sure enough, he watched at the doorknob slowly turned, jiggling slightly, before the door slammed open, a warm air gusting through the room and washing over Riku's shaking form.

"Hey, Riku!"

Riku knew that voice, and he knew the man from whose mouth it flowed. Their stood Sora, bold as brass, beaming with a bright intensity that seemed to glow with the warmth that had suddenly spread throughout the room. Riku noticed that Sora's voice, although energetic as he remembered it, seemed to have a light echo in it, as if he were talking from very far away.

"Riku… don't you remember me?"

Shaking slightly, Riku slowly pushed the covers off of himself and softly swung his legs off of the mattress. Sora smiled, albeit sadly, as he watched Riku stand up on shaking legs, knees buckling a bit as he took in Sora's body. He could see… he could see right through it!

It had to be a trick, Riku figured. Stomach and mind joining forces to give his darkest nightmare a tangible form that stood right before his eyes. Riku should have eaten something… or gotten more sleep… now he was being plagued by his memories. What had he done so wrong to deserve this on such a night?

"You… you don't believe in me, do you?" Sora whispered, cocking his head to the side sadly. "You do not think I am really here?"

"Well how can you be?" Riku asked reverently, eyes driving relentlessly into Sora's ghostly ones. "This is nothing but a trick on the eyes. Too little sleep, I presume…"

"Or lack of food!" Sora added helpfully. "You never did eat enough, Ri-ku! Heh heh…"

This confirmed it, at least in Riku's mind; this was just a dream. An illusion, if you will. Only Sora had ever said Riku's name like that, and it was only Sora that Riku would allow.

"I do not appreciate being taunted by my memories…" Riku murmured skeptically, eyeing Sora's ghost wearily. "Please, I just wish to sleep."

"Through the entire holiday, right?" At Riku's nod, Sora sighed. "You know, that's really part of the reason I am here…"

"Why, because I just want to sleep through this retched holiday?" Riku snorted.

Sora glared, face pulling into more of a stubborn pout then anything. "What's with you? You used to love Christmas… you used to love so many things…"

"Not anymore." Riku rolled his eyes. "Ghost, Sora, illusion, nightmare… if you would not mind, I'd like some sleep now. Please, plague another soul, for this one is too tired to deal with you right now."

At this, Sora really did look angry. He glared, and it was the first time Riku had seen his friend looking so angry. "Just listen to yourself! For one moment, think about the words that you speak! You have grown so world-weary, trying to desperately to hide the bonds that connected you with a happy life! You will not even admit to anything that has happened since my death, Riku! You hide it all underneath your mask, colder then I am now! And it is because of this you have not moved on! It is because of this that I am this way!"

"What rubbish do you speak of?" Riku snarled, eyes angry, but fright shining within their aqua depths. "It is not my fault you are like this! Never my fault!"

"So you believe? You believe that I am here?"

"Yes," Riku ground out through gritted teeth. "It can only be you, Sora, to come like this! Only you with your tone, only you with those eyes, your hair… but why do you haunt me now? What have I done to you to make you come to me like this?"

"I have been like this ever since I was buried," Sora whispered, tone dropping it's previous anger, and now filled with grief and sadness. "No one truly dies. Their spirit shall live on. But…" Sora sighed, "a spirit cannot move on until all those who have known it can accept the person's death. No spirit can leave this world until the ones who loved it most move on, until they accept the dead's fate. And you, Riku… because you've hidden it all, bottled all of your emotions upside of you… have never accepted my death. And I lay chained to this world until the day that you move on!"

"I know you are dead!" Riku snarled. "I was there, Sora! I saw your dead face, the blood leaking out of your veins, leaving you dry as death all that time ago on this very Christmas day!"

"You know I died, but you do not accept it!" Sora insisted. "And until that day, when you finally admit to my passing, I remain here!"

Riku watched in horror as Sora stepped into the room fully, passing through the threshold to stand face-to-face with his best friend. Looking down, Riku let out a startled gasp. There, chained and cuffed around Sora's ankle, was a metal shackle, a long cord of thick chain running down from it and trailing behind Sora and out the door. The chain was huge and thick, the cutlets of metal at least five times as large as Riku had ever seen them before.

"This is the chain I bear, Riku!" Sora cried, bending down to pick up the chain and hold it arms length, shaking it angrily. "This is the chain that binds me to this world until the day that you accept my death! The day you let down the walls you yourself created around your heart! The day you let warmth and love back into your soul!"

Riku was trembling fully now, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief as he slowly stepped away. But Sora followed, determined gaze stopping the live one in his tracks, freezing his feet to the ground.

"And I will help you."

At this, Riku regained some of his composure. "Help me?" he asked. "How so?"

Sora's gaze grew soft once again, smiling a bit up at the older man. "By returning the love of something you thought you'd lost one year ago," Sora replied. "To return your love for the holiday you once held so dearly in your heart. For if you continue on this way, Riku… I shall never move on. And your fate... your fate will be worse than my own."

"Worse then your own?" Riku repeated. "How can any fate be as horrible as this?"

Sora didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Heed my words, Riku. For the next three nights, you shall be visited by three spirits."

"For the next three nights? Can I not have them all at once and get it over with?"

"Expect the first spirit," Sora went on as if Riku had not uttered, "tomorrow, when the old church bell strikes one."

"This is madness," Riku murmured.

"Expect the second the next day at the same time."

"Sora, please!"

"And the third…" Sora finished, again as if Riku has not spoken, "shall pay you your last visit when the church bell chimes midnight of the third day."

"And what if I refuse?" Riku quipped. "What if I don't believe in this? This foolishness? What will happen then, Sora? If I do not get haunted by these spirits?"

"Then your fate shall be the same as my own," Sora replied.

"How so?"

"You are the one who binds me here, Riku! And if you do not learn to love, to care, to open your heart as these spirits shall teach you to do, then your fate shall be as my own! You, who binds me to this earth, shall forever forge the chain between us! And that chain shall keep! And with me chained down to this world, a lost and forgotten soul, you shall stay here to suffer with me!"

"Is this… is this my only choice, Sora?" Riku whispered, pulse quickening by the second.

"It is," Sora answered. "Heed my words, Riku! Three spirits, three nights, one chance to free yourself from the Hell you've locked yourself up into, and chained me to the door!"

At the last echo of a word, the curtains Riku kept so tightly bound over the window ripped open, as did the windowpanes. Cold winter air erupted through the window, billowing and twirling around Riku in a torrent of ghostly wails made by long lost souls that curled around his arms, legs, spinning around his head and drumming through his ears.

"This is your last chance, Riku!" Sora shouted in a unearthly echo, face etched with pain and grief and loneliness. "Abide by the spirits' teachings, and you shall not have to suffer this same fate!"

An erupt crack that almost shattered Riku's eardrums split the cold air like a whip and in the blink of an eye, Sora's ghostly feet were plucked from the ground as he was pulled out the window by an unseen force, heavy chain following him and twirling about him like a kite tail.

Riku rushed towards the window with a startled cry of, "SORA!" His hands grasped the windowsill as he stuck his head outside. And there, he saw, was the most beautiful and frightening thing he had ever seen.

Below him in a whirlpool of blues and grays, blacks and whites, were more spirits then Riku could count in a lifetime. Rope, chains, shackles, twisted together in a mad melody of a broken song, lyrics sung in mournful wails of blurred spirits. Small children, woman, old men, babies... all chained and shackled, spinning 'round and 'round in a never-ending cycle as they screamed and cried for deliverance. Their face whipped in and out of sight, faces contorted in pure agony.

With a choked sob, Riku forced his wide eyes to snap shut and he wrenched himself away from his window, the sill starting to shake. Or perhaps it was the trembling of his own fingers.

He stumbled backwards until his knees hit the bed, buckling before sending him down onto the hard mattress. The air was cold and torrential, screams and cries striking deep cords in Riku's heart that he had never known to exist. He closed his eyes tightly, fists clenched and teen gritted together as he tried to ignore the screams. The cries. The loud moans. Creaking and clanging of thick chains.

And then, panting heavily, not even laying in-between the sheets, consciousness gave him mercy as he slipped into a deep sleep, spirits dying out and rampaging through his dreams, turning them into nightmares as he slept Sora's memory away.

End

That's all. My almost non-existent ego took a critical blow when I re-read it and found all the clichés. And it took another blow when Digital pointed this out to me.

Any comments? Criticisms? If you would like me to change something, like bring back the conjunctions, then ask. But I won't change anything unless Fire asks me; it is, after all, her gift.

I hope you like it, Fire! The next few parts will be posted once a week until Christmas! I know this story isn't the greatest, or very creative, but I worked really, really hard on it! Hell, I took notes! NOTES! So even if you think it isn't too good, just know I tried, okay? Merry Christmas!

Lots of love from Wish, and a HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! And Merry Christmas, too XD.

WISH