These are but wild and whirling words

Stan weaved through the trees, swatting away the hanging branches that obstructed his view. He didn't know where he was running, but something inside beckoned him forward, pulling him towards the center of the thicket. The faint moonlight illuminated the trees' outlines, drenching them in thick shadows that spread across the underbrush. He stopped to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees. Aching pain crawled up his calves and settled behind his kneecaps as he breathed heavily.

"Stop," Stan panted, "I can't run anymore."

"What did they tell you?"

"Huh?"

"What did they tell you about how I died?" Kenny's ghostly image stood among the trees, staring at Stan with dull, pale blue eyes.

"Kenny, what are you doing he-"

"Answer the question Stan." Kenny took a few hovering steps towards Stan, who lurched back in response. Kenny continued walking toward him. "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." Kenny placed two translucent hands on Stan's shoulders. Stan shuddered, the cold burning through his jacket and arms. Who knew that a ghost's grip could be so strong.

"K-ken..." Tears pooled in the corner of Stan's eyes as he stared up at his friend. "You're back." Stan's face broke into a shaking smile.

"Just for now," Kenny smiled, his features softening. "I think you need to know something." He stared down at Stan, dull eyes panning over his face. "When I died, what did they tell you?"

"They said you fell off the dock at Stark's Pond. Hit your head on a rock."

"Clever." Kenny smiled, a playful edge in his voice. "I didn't fall and hit my head. Someone bashed my head with a rock before tossing my body into Stark's Pond."

"Oh my god." Stan gaped at Kenny's unfaltering expression. "You- you were murdered?" Kenny nodded. "Why would anyone want to murder you?"

Kenny shrugged. "Jealousy? Popularity? Bebe? You take your pick."

"It was..." Stan choked on the caustic realization that that unwillingly lodged itself in his throat, drowning out his ability to speak.

"Who else would?"

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because Stan, I need you to help me."

Kyle wandered around the edge of the trees, straining his eyes to see a glimpse of his best friend. The sun was beginning to rise, dusting the trees in a thin orange glow. He heard something snap among the knotted branches, followed by giggling.

"Stan? You there?" He called.

"Kyle!" Stan stumbled out of the trees and tossed his arms around Kyle's neck. "I know what I have to do now." He backed away from Kyle, grinning brightly.

Kyle stared at his friend, eyes travelling down to his hands. One hand brandished the pocket knife Kenny had given him, while his other hand was slicked with blood.

"What happened to your hand Stan?"

Stan shrugged. "Nothing really. Best way to make a promise is with your own blood, right?" He held the bloodied hand up, showing the linear slit across his palm.

"Promise for what? Stan, what did Kenny say?"

"I just have to help him with a little something, that's all."

"Help him with what?"

"Shh!" Stan hissed, covering Kyle's mouth with his non-bloodied hand. "I can't tell you but you have to understand, only I can do this. You... I just might need you to help me, go along with it, okay?"

"Stan, you aren't making sense." Kyle's voice was muffled by Stan's hand.

"Things have changed. I'm the only one who can fix it. Only I can set it right. I should..." he trailed off, lifting his eyes to the rising sun, orange light reflecting in his pupils. "No, never mind, we should go, it's early."

Author's Note

Surprisingly, this all came together really quick. There was so much more I could have written, especially in the first scene. However, I decided to leave it up to the imagination, for now. Review if you wish, and thank you for reading.

~A.P.