87. Food
Night settled over Amity Park. Streetlights flickered to life, the sky was darkening, the first stars were making their appearance and Venus, the evening star, lit up brightly on the horizon. The cloudless sky turned a greenish purple, the warmth of the day already fading to a more comfortable temperature. People were coming out of their air conditioned houses to enjoy a nice evening, strolling down the busy streets. Restaurants full of people, more on terraces. There was a general air of enjoyment, of relaxation, the beginning of the weekend. Children were screaming in the park, their parents lax, forgetting their normally strict bed time rules.
Deeper in the park, away from the general, well used pathways that were lit by lanterns, under the trees that caught most of the sunlight, it was dark. People didn't venture there at night. First of all because there was no need, as the more commonly used and well lit pathways brought people where they wanted to be, but also because in Amity Park, darkness didn't just mean a lack of light.
It also meant ghosts.
They needn't fear the park though. No ghost had made an appearance for quite a while there now. In fact, the whole of Amity Park seemed almost peaceful. Sure, often enough, some ghost or other would show up and try and wreck havoc, but usually Danny Phantom showed up within minutes, making quick work of the disturbance. The ghost got sucked into the thermos more or less quickly, and the young ghost would disappear again in the blink of an eye. Ghosts had ceased to be an item in the news. The only people still worried about ghosts were the GIW, and they usually showed up only after Phantom was long gone.
The evening progressed, laughter became louder, several bars had people standing outside on the terraces, holding their beers and cigarettes. Children disappeared out of the park and from the streets, teenagers hanging around got sent away by the police, only to scatter and regroup in another place. The town seemed to overflow with energy.
The boy in the dark alley watched the activity, taking in the energy, using it, molding it to his liking before adding it to his own. Hungry blue eyes scanned the people passing by, touching them briefly, causing a shiver to run up their spine. It made them quicken their pace until they had passed the alley, and then had them wondering what had them spooked, looking over their shoulder to the entrance of the alley where nothing could be seen. Then they shrugged, and moved on. The boy smiled.
Slowly, he retreated further into the alley, moving soundlessly. The contrast with the bright world on the end of the alley was staggering. Out there, in the street, there was light. It was clean, full of happy people. Back in the alley, there was only darkness and despair. The boy didn't mind. He lived on despair.
The alley led into a less crowed street, and the boy emerged into it, eyes shooting from left to right, head down as not to be noticed. There were people here too, but they paid him no mind. There were street kids everywhere, this was just another skinny example with worn out clothes and too long hair, hanging in his face. If the boy wanted help, they reasoned, he would have to ask for it. He didn't. Instead, he moved down the street like a ghost, and disappeared into another alley.
Weaving his way through town, rarely coming out in the open where people could see him, he made his way to a particularly run down alleyway. Fire escapes were high above his head and he looked up briefly, stepping over the legs of some poor bum passed out with his back against the wall, an undefinable bottle wrapped in brown paper in his hand. Overflowing dumpsters spread an odor that would have had many people reeling. The boy didn't even wrinkle his nose, having long gotten used to the rotten smell. Back there, in the abandoned, boarded up house at the end of the street, he had made himself comfortable.
He looked back only once, making sure the bum was really passed out, and then phased through the wall. Inside, he sank down on the floor. Leaning against the wall, he wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes.
Despair.
Not his own. He was past that. No, all around him, above him, in the houses that were almost as decrepit as the one he had made his liar in, there were people. Squatters. Drunks. Junks. People renting a small apartment, trying to survive on minimum wages. Hungry people, using all the money they had to feed their children. Criminals, drug dealers, fearing the next day because it might be their last, planning on murdering their opponents so that they themselves would survive. Gang members, high on speed.
A rich mixture of emotions. The boy had long since given up wondering why these were the most potent of human emotions, contained the most energy, were the most satisfying. All he knew was that he needed them to keep going. He didn't need food any longer, in fact, hadn't eaten for at least a month, when he had stolen that apple. And the only reason he had stolen the apple was to feel the shopkeeper's anger.
It had tasted good though. The apple. Nice and fresh. Maybe he should try it again. The anger had been nice too.
While contemplating apples and anger, he noticed something else. A disturbance. A tremor in the pattern of emotions. Fear spiked. The boy licked his lips and waited, knowing what was to come. Moments later, something cold stirred inside of him, and a blue mist left his mouth.
His eyes shot open, glowing an emerald green. A bright flash lit up the room, momentarily showing a thin mattress in the corner with an old sleeping bag on top of it. Next to that, an old backpack. The ghost hovered for a moment, tilting his head, concentrating on where the nearby ghost causing the disturbance was located.
"Technus," he muttered.
He flew to his makeshift bed, opened the backpack and retrieved a battered thermos. A feral grin spread on his face as he felt both the fear of the nearby people rise and the increase of the blue mist that still escaped his mouth.
This was his hunting ground, his territory. Other ghosts had to keep away, and they knew it. They still tried though, but he didn't mind. It gave him something to do besides harvesting the emotions of his humans.
After all, Amity Park was his.
