Forgotten Time

A loud noise startled me out of my sleep and I twisted in my cocoon of blankets, groaning softly and trying to shift off the heavy weight that surrounded my mind. It fell away easily like the left over strands of a net and I sighed, going still as I relaxed in the comforting warmth again. The startling noise echoed again in the air around me and I pried my eyes open groggily, looking over at the tall grandfather-clock that was ringing off the hour. Its sound was almost remorseful, like the sad hooting of a lonely owl. I got up slowly and walked across the cool wooden floor to it, gazing up at its glass face. The blankets I left at the couch I had woken up on, the coldness of the dim house not bothering me as much as the snow outside had.

The clock was beautiful and old, older than maybe even the man named John. The minute and hour hands on the clock were made of a very dark, very delicate wood that stood out a lot on the smooth light-colored face. The numbers were all made of metal, each curve making them look almost like they were made of whipped cream laid out on a white cake. Tiny jewels sparkled along the edge of the face, each one seeming to almost wink at me playfully.

The clock was beautiful.

"…I think the clock must've waked her up." someone said quietly, their deep voice gently pulling me out of my still-foggy mind. I glanced over and saw that it was just the man called John and then looked back up at the clock, its beauty and complexity drawing away all of my attention.

I wanted to touch the clock. The urge was sudden and strong, and before I knew what I was doing I had reached up my hand and had touched my fingertips to the cage of the clock that held its swinging heart. A shock like sticking your finger in a wall socket blew through my hand and I yanked it back instinctively, looking down at the slight redness on my fingers that was already going away and then back up at the clock. It had shocked me. Why?

"It's Sealed so we don't accidently get pulled into it without knowing how to get back out. It didn't mean to hurt you." a soft voice murmured in my ear, tickling me. It sounded like the voice that had been in my head the night before; the voice of Glowing Eyes' friend.

I curled my fingers into my palm as if I could catch the slight pain I had felt, and then I turned my head away from where I knew the three of them were standing and looked out the window that overlooked the street, watching as more snow drifted softly down from the sky soundlessly. I blinked and I was standing at the window now, somehow there even though I didn't remember walking there at all. I watched the snow fall for a while, watching each star-shaped flake make its way down to rest among the others on the ground, remembering the coldness of them pooling at my feet as I stood watching the two uniformed men take my body away. I was dead now. Just a ghost. No could see me or hear me or touch me.

Wait. That wasn't true. The man John, Jack or Glowing Eyes, and the other Ghost, Max, could see and hear and touch me. I wasn't dead to them.

I frowned and turned around to face them, crossing my arms over my slightly-small chest and trying to think of what to say or do now. Finally, something came to me. "Who the heck are you?" I asked, knowing for a fact that they were not like other people.

One, they could clearly see me.

Two, they seemed to want to help me.

And three, one of them was dead but no one seemed to care much.

"How about you answer that question first, Little Miss." the slightly-see-through guy, Max, smirked, copying my pose. I scowled but didn't put my arms down self-consciously. I was not about to let him dictate what I do.

"How about your name first, okay? We can take this slow if you want." John said gently, taking a seat on the couch, and motioned for me to take a seat as well. The blankets of my cocoon were moved to make room.

I took a seat and flushed, not remembering. After a few seconds it came to me out of the fog in my head, and I calmed down a little bit again. "Emma Steele." I told him, and he smiled and nodded that I was doing great.

"Do you know how old you are, Emma?"

"… 16." I answered, not completely sure. It seemed like a good, familiar age, though.

"Okay. Now, this might be hard. Do you remember what you were doing before Jack found you?"

That memory brought tears to my eyes but I quickly wiped them away. No need to cry any more than I already had. "They were taking my body away in a car. I couldn't stop them."

"And were you with your body the whole time before they took it away?"

"Yeah."

"Jack says he found you standing outside in front of the morgue. Does that sound like the place you were?"

"Yeah. There was this older guy who took my stuff down in some basement or something. Everything was really clean."

"Took your stuff?"

That made me flush and I glared a little bit at him through more tears. "My heart. My lungs. My insides! He cut me up and took it all out and then sewed me back up again!" I snapped, and pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged them, swallowing a sob.

"I'm so sorry. That must have been hard for you." he murmured after a while, and I raised my head up a little bit and looked at him, my anger draining away to be replaced with a thick sadness.

"Not as hard as I thought it would be. And it's not like he was all Jack the Ripper about it." I shrugged, and a small smile pulled at his lips as he realized I was trying to smooth out my snappiness from earlier.

"I'm sure you have many questions, Emma, but please try to understand that there is a very limited amount of answers we can give you. You are more than welcome to ask as many questions as you like, but please be aware that not all of them are ones we can answer at the moment. Maybe later, but not now." he told me gently, and I nodded and carefully put my legs down, calming myself almost completely.

"What day is it?" I asked, feeling weak and very young as I looked up into his gray eyes. I didn't like feeling weak, but it wasn't as if I had much of a choice.

"It is January 12th, 2010." he answered, and I nodded and swallowed and looked away from him so he wouldn't see the tear that had ran down my cheek. January 12th. I might not have had any memories of my life before I died, but I knew that it sure wasn't January of 2010 when I died. Not even close. How much had I missed?

Chapter three is up and running!

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