Welcome back guys! I plan to update this regularly, but seeing as how I'm still in high school, time to actually write out my thoughts can be limited due to homework and or upcoming tests. But I promise to do my best~! And thank you for those who reviewed my first chapter. It was very much appreciated. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Now, on with the chapter~!

Chapter Two

There's No Such Thing

Finding the park was no problem seeing as how it stood alone in the crisp American evening. The roller coaster than had taken four lives while the park was still open, seemed to be clawing for the sky. Arthur would never understand why people liked them so much as he gazed up at the chained up gate that stood in his way. Here it was another thing he would never understand. Why must these yanks chain up everything? Did they assume that the chains would scare unwanted visitors away? Surely they knew better than that… All one had to do was climb over the gate and they'd be in the deserted park… That was precisely what Arthur did, showing off surprising strength for his lanky form. He landed on the other side of the fence smoothly, scowling to himself.

"What a bloody waste of time…" The English teenager muttered to himself as he dusted off invisible dirt.

"What's a waste of time…?" A voice asked hesitantly, startling Arthur out of his thoughts. He looked around, more than a little surprised to not see anyone. What kind of sick joke was this?

"Who's there?! I demand you show yourself you bloody wanker!" He demanded, glaring in every direction, his voice ringing in the once quiet park. He scared a few slumbering birds for all of his efforts, but no one came out.

"My name is Alfred, and there's really no reason to yell… It's just me." The faceless voice sounded gloomy, perfectly fitting into its surroundings. He'd certainly never heard this particular voice for sure, so he was almost positive it wasn't someone that went to his school. Who then, would be making fun of a tragic story such as Alfred's? Did the town's children find it amusing to play these games? "Why are you here? No one comes to visit this place anymore…" Arthur bit his pierced lip. He wasn't at all prepared for this.

"I'm here in search of something." He claimed.

"…Really? Maybe I can help!" Arthur shivered at the sudden cool breeze that hit him. He should have brought a coat… "…What's your name? You already know mine… Say, how do you feel about coasters? Have you been on The Soaring Eagle? It's my favorite!" The English student really didn't know what to think about this Alfred character… He was starting to wonder if it really was a trick anymore… They seemed to know about the American that died here…

"My name is Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland." He sighed, finally giving into the faceless voice. He'd humor it for the moment. After all, it's not like it really was a ghost, right? Ghosts didn't exist. Fairies maybe, but definitely not stupid American ghosts.

"Can I call ya Artie? I like Artie better." The voice giggled, sounding like it had moved somewhat closer. That in itself was odd; there was nowhere in front of him to hide behind. That is, unless of course, they were invisible or just excellent at blending into their surroundings… He'd never known anyone like that, but he figured they probably existed, considering how many people ignored him.

"No, you may not call me 'Artie' you bloody twat, my name is Arthur." He snapped, although he somehow doubted that the ghost would ever call him by his actual, more dignified, name. Americans were daft when it came to matters of the name, weren't they?

"Naw, I think Imma just call you Artie. If it makes you feel better, you can call me Alfie." The voice supplied, sounding more excited than he had when Arthur first got there. Who was this, and why did they seem so happy to see him? Where they blind or simply that stupid?

"That most certainly doesn't make me feel any better, idiot. But if you insist to make a right fool of yourself, have fun. Just leave my name out of it." Arthur snapped, walking forward somewhat and looking around for a face to go with the voice that was doing a horrid job of holding a decent conversation.

"Aww, come on, Artie, loosen' up! I don't mean ya any harm, I promise! I'm the hero after all!" The green eyed male rolled his eyes. He swore that all Americans had the same idiotic mindset… "Hey, I've been meanin' to ask, what are those things on your face? Are they caterpillars that got stuck there and died or what?"

"They're not bloody caterpillars!" Arthur snapped, sneering at the direction where he'd heard the voice. Why did everyone have to say such rude things about his eyebrows? They'd been bushy ever since he could remember. Every person in his family had them except his mother, so he really didn't see what the bloody problem was. Perhaps they just wanted something to laugh at. As if he was the perfect candidate. Stupid yanks…

"Oh! Sorry man… No need to be upset. Please don't be mad at me… You're the first person I've seen in ages! No one has time for this park or me anymore; no one except for the birds that is. They live here though, and they're not very talkative. Unless squawking counts. Which I don't think it does because I can't understand it… Do you understand them?" Arthur sighed. Whoever this was didn't seem to get the hint that he really didn't want to talk to them. The only reason he was even here in this run down park in the first place, was to prove to the frog that ghosts didn't exist. The longer he was here however, talking to this voice, the more he started to doubt his original theory. The American accent sounded somewhat soothing, holding a slight echo to it that wasn't natural by human standards. Plus, where was the person to go with the voice? Was it disembodied? He sure hoped not…

"Of course don't speak bird. Are you a bloody idiot? No one can speak that. It's not even a language. I haven't the time to waste trying to decipher utter rubbish such as that." He scoffed, his tired gaze scanning the path in front of him. It looked relatively safe… If someone walked slow that is… One never knew for sure by looking.

"Oh… That sucks… Cuz I think they laugh at me. You don't laugh at me though… So you can't be too bad." The American mumbled. He sounded strangely closer. How was it moving forwards if he still couldn't see him? The Invisible Man wasn't real… "Promise you won't scream." He stated, causing Arthur to look around in confusion. Why would he have any reason to scream?

"What?" He asked, scolding himself internally for sounding stupid.

"Just promise me. Please… I don't want to lose another friend…" The expression in the voice was obvious, sadness so strong that it made Arthur's ears ring.

"I…I promise…" He murmured.

"Okay… Please don't run away either… I just- I just wanna be fair." Was all he said before Arthur was forced to turn away. Blinded by a bright blue light, he tried to make out the shape suddenly making itself known. This had to be some sort of trick. No living person could produce such a light out of thin air. "You can look now, Arthur." At that, the English seventeen year old turned. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. In front of him, was an American with bright blue eyes, and wheat blond hair. He was wearing a gentle smile, baggy jeans, and a hoodie that screamed American at him. Where had this boy come from, and why was he so breathtaking?

"…What? I don't- I don't understand." He confessed, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I welcome you to the best place on earth. Welcome, to the Great American Adventure. I'll be your guide throughout the duration of your stay. Can I interest you in any souvenirs?" He teased playfully, attempting to sound professional. He was bloody awful at it, but he couldn't say he minded. He still didn't understand though. He'd he get in front of him so quickly? He should have heard footsteps in the very least, or possibly seen Alfred trying to sneak up on him. This was so bloody confusing.

"Where were you hiding?" He demanded, glaring at the boy in front of him. The younger one of the two didn't even react to his glares! He just kept smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world. He probably didn't, seeing as how he was still hanging out in the theme park…

"I wasn't hiding anywhere, dude; I was invisible. I'm kinda dead and stuff… I thought you knew that. Everyone else who's been here recently knew that. They kept tryin' to get pictures of me… Talk about creepy, they didn't even ask for permission! You can't just randomly take pictures of someone you don't know! For real, it was really annoying…" Alfred sighed deeply, his smile drooping somewhat at the corners. "I really don't see what the big deal is… Before I died I was terrified of ghosts… Why try and get pictures? Why can't people just leave them alone, ya know? Let them go about their after lives in peace." Arthur gaped at him. He couldn't possibly be serious. This had to be some sick joke. He looked around wildly, scanning his surroundings, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. What the bloody hell was going on here, and why the hell did everyone seem in on it except for him? He hoped that no one was watching him…

"You must be joking." Arthur reprimanded, greatly hoping that this really was some sick joke and not reality. He wouldn't be able to handle ghosts being real. Fairies sure, but ghosts were an entirely different subject. The American in front of him looked hurt.

"You think I'm joking about my own death…? Why would I do something like that…?" Alfred teared up somewhat, making Arthur blink at him in shock. He hadn't meant to make the boy cry!

"I just- I'm sorry-" His apology fell on deaf ears when the boy was suddenly gone. He saw it with his own eyes this time. That meant that Alfred had been telling the truth, and he'd just insulted him. Splendid. He just made a ghost cry.