A man stood over a still body, looking down at it with wary eyes. The body itself wasn't much to look at. Just a tall lanky guy in a red suit and a weird blonde hairdo. A pair of sunglasses lay on the floor a few inches from the man's face, smashed to pieces. And the guy wasn't breathing, at least the man was pretty sure he wasn't, since he was almost 100% sure that this was a corpse. To add to that, he was pretty sure this was his corpse.
So, looking down at your own corpse was certainly a way to start an evening. At least, he was pretty sure this was his corpse. I mean, there weren't any other dead bodies laying around waiting to be claimed. There was the possibility of a body being buried among the piles of trash that surrounded the area, but this body seemed to be the freshest(there was certainly enough fresh blood coating a nearby bag and the corpse itself to suggest that) and it didn't really make any sense to the newly developed ghost for this body to not be his. His ghostly form was currently tethered to the buckle of a brown work bag, which sat uselessly next to the corpse. It probably belonged to him and was dropped when he kicked the bucket. He figured that the bag was just the first thing his soul latched onto when it died so that just added up to the corpse being his.
Somehow, that wasn't even the most interesting bit of what was going on. On top of a corpse, there was about to be a second and the new ghost was about to watch it be created.
A woman with bright red fiery hair stood behind his body, cornered by a fence. Her yellow trench coat hiding a short, zipper up, deep blue dress and what the ghost assumed was some type of badge, along with a belt. She also wore knee high boots that were almost as bright as her hair. The ghost didn't recognize her in the slightest.
Across from her, on the other side of his body was a man with frankly the most flashy weapon the ghost had ever seen in his life(well, death( he also assumed this since he also couldn't remember if he had ever seen anything this ridiculous)). A golden shotgun. Like come on, how vain could a person be? The gunman(because there was no way he wasn't) wore a dark suit and a fedora that covered up any recognizable facial features.
With the gun pointed at the woman's face, the man smirked. "So long sister," he said as his finger moved toward the trigger, the woman's eyes narrowing in both disgust and fear.
The ghost stood there and watched as the man's index finger went and made itself comfortable on the trigger. As much as he wanted to help this poor woman, who probably stumbled upon his corpse or even witnessed his murder, he couldn't. He was dead. There wasn't really anything he could do about it.
"This is no time to be lolling around dead! You're the only one who can save her!" screamed a voice, startling the ghost from his staring at the inevitable. At his startle, the world suddenly turned red and froze. The woman and the gunman's outlines went orange and random white spots filled the area. His corpse's outline turned blue as well and strange energy radiated off of it with startling power.
"Wh-what the-?!" the ghost cried in surprise, form spinning around in surprise. "The whole world just changed!" he thought, eyes wide behind his sunglasses.
"Welcome to the Ghost World, the land of the dead!" the voice said with such a fake cheerful voice that it almost made the ghost cringe. He spun around again, looking for the source of the voice, but finding nothing. The voice, it wasn't speaking out loud, not like a normal person. It felt more like it was speaking right into his head!
"Wh-who are you?!" he asked, still looking around wildly.
"No time for introductions now!" the voice replied briskly. "You have to save her! I know you can do it! All you have to do is use your powers."
"Wha?" was the only response he could think of. Him? Save her? How exactly? He was kind of dead, and it wasn't like he could physically touch anything like this, much less save her.
Almost like the voice could read his thoughts (maybe it could), it said, "Take a good look at the bag your soul is attached to." The ghost did so and for the first time noticed how whatever he was attached to had a similar white glowy spot on it. "That's a core," the voice continued. "A lot of nonliving objects have these and well…" the voice trailed off. "Man, this is a lot harder to explain than I thought," it huffed, sounding almost childish. It hummed for a moment before it sighed. "You know what, it's a lot easier if you just try yourself."
"Try what!?" the ghost asked, frustration slowly growing.
The voice didn't say anything for a moment. "Well, firstly get rid of that form you've created." The ghost blinked in confusion.
"What?"
The voice sighed. "I'm far too old for this," it grumbled almost too quietly for the ghost to catch. The voice gave a fake cough before it actually explained something useful. "That form you have right now, that isn't your actual ghostly body, that's just a projection. Your soul isn't in the projection, it's in the core you're attached to, so if you want to do anything, I suggest you get back into your actual soul."
The ghost blinked again, before his eyes went back down to the bag. Huh. Okay. It was easier than the ghost expected. He honestly hadn't even realized how much effort went into the projection until he just kind of… let go. He could still see the world around him like before but it was more enclosed and frankly claustrophobic. He was trapped inside the ice-cold gold buckle and it felt rather strange. He felt more physical than before, like if he really tried he could move the buckle and make the bag open.
The voice chuckled. "See? That wasn't so hard."
The ghost huffed. "Yeah, well I'm here now, so what do you want me to do?"
"Well, try reaching for the core that's next to you."
The ghost looked over toward the first glowy spot just about a foot or so away. The outline looked semi familiar. Like a crossing gate that was bent at an odd angle. It looked like someone had hit it. The ghost didn't really know how to reach for something without any limbs, but he tried anyway and to his surprise, a small tendril of energy shot out like an arm and attached itself to the glowy thing. It was like a bridge and the ghost wasted no time in crossing it. After entering the core, it was like whatever connection he had to the buckle snapped in half. He was fully connected to the crossing gate.
"Congratulations!" the voice cheered, though it sounded a bit sarcastic to the ghost. "Your soul has now possessed the crossing gate."
"So… What?" The ghost replied, mildly surprised but also confused. "Now I'm the crossing gate?"
The voice cleared its throat in response to the inquiry, like the answer was obvious. "Use it to save the woman!"
"What? But how?"
"In a moment, time will start to flow normally again. That will be your chance," the voice stated, matter of factly.
"Chance? Chance to do what," the ghost cried, growing more and more confused by the minute.
"Listen," the voice said, the sound stern and demanding absolute attention. "When the man pulls the trigger, the woman dies, right? So before that happens, you have to use your powers to stop it!"
"H-hey! Wait a second! I still don't know what you're talking about!" the ghost screamed. The world stuttered for just a moment and the red suddenly vanished, the world went back to how it normally was, bright and colorful and noise erupted forth like an orchestra. Things started to move again and all the ghost could see was the finger pulling the trigger.
Without even thinking, the ghost moved. With as much force as he could manage, he threw the body he was in upwards and much to his surprise, it responded. The crossing gate flung itself upwards, the bent metal end slamming into the barrel of the gun, ripping it from gunman's surprised hands, making it twirl through the air. The woman took the moment of surprise and shoved herself past the gunman, trying to make a break for it.
The gun fell and hit the floor with a clang. After getting shoved, the gunman was in the perfect position to quickly scoop up the gun, spin around and have the gun pointed at the woman's back. "HOLD IT!" he shouted, finger already on the trigger. The woman froze in her movement, clearly startled by how quick the gunman already had her at gunpoint again. She lifted her arms over her head and stood stock still.
"Well played," the voice said cheerfully. "Didn't think you would react that quickly."
"Uh, what just happened?" the ghost said, looking down at the new scene he now towered over.
"That was one of your powers at work, a "ghost trick" if you will," the voice replied. "You manipulated that object with the powers of the dead."
The ghost huffed in mild annoyance at both the explanation and the scene below him. "Yeah well, she still kind of has a gun pointed at her…"
The voice hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's not good, is it?" The voice perked up a bit as it said, "But at least now you're starting to figure out how to use your powers!"
"So," the ghost began. "I can enter the "ghost world" whenever I want and to do this "ghost trick," I have to be in the real world?"
The ghost could practically hear the shrug the voice did as it said, "Basically. Now, try doing that again!"
This time, when the world went red, the ghost initiated it intentionally. Now that he knew what it felt like, it was almost natural to do so. He looked above him and noticed two items, a wrecking ball and an old acoustic guitar. One was infinitely more useful than the other.
The ghost reached out toward the wrecking ball's core, reaching as far as he could, but he came up just short of the core. The ghost huffed in irritation as the energy snapped back to the crossing gates core. The wrecking ball would be so much easier and more efficient with dealing with the threat, so of course it wasn't going to work. He looked over toward the second, less useful core. He reached for this one and he quickly grabbed onto it and moved. The guitar didn't have much use, but maybe since the gunman was already on edge, maybe sound would be enough. Well, it was worth a shot.
The red bled away and the ghost forced the strings to move. The guitar, which was surprisingly in tune, strummed and the gunman startled. He turned toward the pile of trash the guitar sat on and pointed his gun. "Who's there?!" he yelled. Not even waiting for a response, he fired. With surprising accuracy, the bullet tore through the instrument, shattering it and making it fall and bounce off the ground. It landed uselessly next to the ghost's dead body. During all of this the women moved, but not far. The gunman was already pointing his gun at her. Again.
The ghost huffed in annoyance as he let a physical form bleed out from the guitar. "That's gotta be some of the slowest "running away" I've ever seen." He sighed and put a hand to his chin, tilting his head to the side. He hummed. "Looks like I'm gonna have to come up with something more." He looked around, taking note of every single core that sat around him. None of them were useful. None of them were close enough to even be useful. The only core that was close enough to reach was…
"I guess all there is… is me," he said to himself with a smirk of satisfaction. Actually, why hadn't he thought of this before this would have made just jumping into random objects stupid, as well as probably freaking out the gunman which would have been a plus. Though he was kind of disgusted that he was going to use a bloody dead body to do anything, but eh, he didn't have time to be picky. He had a woman to save.
"I like your attitude," said the voice, startling the ghost out of his thoughts, which the voice most definitely just read. "It's admirable, truly, but…" the voice trailed off, an almost sad tone leaking into the words.
The ghost cocked his head to the side, looking toward the sky, toward wherever the voice was coming from. "But what? If I can manipulate objects, then I oughta be able to manipulate my own corpse, right?"
"Well…" the voice hesitated a second before sighing. "Tell you what. Why don't you just try it and see?"
That was good enough for him, so the ghost nodded to himself and returned to the guitar. He reached out and latched onto the core that radiated energy. It was like a boost of power soared through him as he flew into it. It felt rather strange, rather alien if you were to ask him, but at the moment, it didn't really matter. He had to move. Just like before he tried to move.
Nothing happened.
The ghost huffed in frustration and pulled.
Nothing happened.
The ghost growled and tried again.
Nothing happened.
He tried to move a finger, open his eyes, breathe, anything!
Nothing happened.
Why wasn't it working?!
"It's not working!" he cried, once again trying to move his damn corpse.
"Exactly. Sad but true, I'm afraid…" the voice stated, true regret in its voice. "You can only manipulate non-living things. Corpses, even if they aren't alive anymore, aren't really just ordinary 'things.'"
The ghost completely deflated. "You've gotta be kidding!" he groaned to himself. If he had his hands at the moment he would have put his head into them. Actually, wait a minute. "The woman!"
The ghost launched himself out of his corpse and he moved to look. Or, well he tried. When he tried to move more than five feet from his body, he stalled. He looked back and he realized that he was still attached to his corpse. He couldn't move.
"Well, sister. This is it." The ghost whipped around. The gunman's finger was on the trigger, hat still tipped over his eyes. The ghost could just barely see the back of the red haired lady's back. "Two things are looking pretty dim right now," the gunman stated. "My eyesight… and your future!"
"WAIT!" The ghost screamed, tugging uselessly at his connection, desperate to do… something! Instead the shot was fired and the world slowed. The girl's back arched as the bullet entered her body. Blood splattered as she started to fall forward, knees hitting the ground first. The ghost only caught a glimpse of her face as she fell forward, of this scared look of agony that would only be on her face for just a few seconds. The world sped up again as the woman hit the ground, far too close to the edge of the walkway they had all been on. An edge the ghost hadn't even noticed was there until this very second. Her arm lolled off the side for just a brief instant, waving from the movement of her body falling. The weight of its swings tugged her body over the edge and into the dark depths below.
The gunman didn't seem to care, just swinging his still smoking gun to his other hand and tipping his hat toward the blood pool that now stained the ground. The ghost could only stare at the stain on the ground. Before, he hadn't really cared about what the woman's fate might be, simply because he couldn't do anything about it. But now he understood he could do something, he had done something, but in the end he had just delayed the inevitable. And it somehow hurt. A lot.
A distant ring filled the area. The ring of a phone. The gunman lifted his head, in clear interest. He turned around and started walking back toward the original corpse. He walked past the ghost that just stood there, staring at the floor. He walked over to the ghost's corpse that still lay haphazardly in the middle of the path. The gunman huffed in obvious irritation. "Outta my way," he grumbled, and he kicked the body out of the way and down the edge of the walkway.
The ghost felt a tug, eyes instantly snapping over to his falling form. He let out a scream as he was suddenly tugged downward, following his corpse into the dark depths below.