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A century, and several decades later...
The Boy with the Staff did not know how many years had gone by since that fateful night in the cabin he eventually called home, but he knew the moment days turned into weeks, which turned to months, and then years. Many years in fact.
The Boy knew that he was long dead, and all he was, simply a ghost of whatever life he had lived. Granted, the days following his rise from that cold pond, he had his suspicions. Why did people go through him? Why did no one notice him?
What held him back from realizing and accepting the truth of his predicament, was denial. Plain and simple denial.
To think it took, who knows how many years had gone by, for me to accept it. The Boy thought bitterly, as he sat on a branch of a tree overlooking a small, but rapidly growing town that was once the same settler's village he'd come upon.
Burgess, was what the people living there eventually called it, named after the man who first settled there. The Boy smiled emptily, he didn't know, but something in the back of his... mind, if ghosts can have that human apparatus, made him stay here. Maybe the Voice might come to him instead of him searching aimlessly.
Regardless, he remembered years and years before. Of how he first experimented his powers of what he then concluded to be controlling the winter season itself, the irony could not be any more bittersweet.
But what really amazed him, was that he can call upon that same, strange gust of wind to his aid, the same wind that guided him to Burgess that night. The Boy was not sure if he directly controls the wind, or if the wind had a life of its own.
If it did, then the wind might as well have been the first and only friend he had made. But regardless, this wind not only guided him, but also could lift him up in the air and make him float.
Which led to him sitting on such a high branch. He could recall flying in the air, flying outside of Burgess, exploring the vast land. He saw thriving cities that made the small village that he was accustomed to pale in comparison.
But in exploring these cities and different towns, he also saw conflict. He saw different people fighting each other, with varying weapons and with some that he knew he saw from somewhere.
The Boy shuddered at the memories before deciding to head into the town and give the townspeople an early snow day, which was another thing he could do with his powers. It was a few weeks into Fall, but a little cold didn't hurt anybody.
I may not know why I'm here, but it's best to make some people here happy in the least. He thought, swishing his staff to and fro as snowflakes shot out. The Boy looked around and saw evidence that whoever he used to be, he was from a time long gone.
The buildings and roads contrasted to the simple wooden cabins of before, the clothes that some passers-by wore were different.
The Boy then saw a couple of children just outside of the town near a familiar pond, some were playing in the water, while others pretended to fish with some twigs and sticks.
He smiled before he told the wind to set him down as he conjured some snowflakes in his hand, each twirling around his fingers before whisking them away towards the children, which they then saw.
It was there, when the children played with the dancing snowflakes as a couple even landed on some of their noses, that the Boy saw something in them that he knew he could never have.
Fun.
The Boy winced when he saw a child run through him, like the specter that he was, and sighed. He could not fault that one, but chuckled at the mirth he could feel from them as they played on the pond.
The Boy watched from the roof of one of Burgess' many buildings, as the sun setting behind the clouds and making way for another moonless, cloud-filled night. And much like the other moonless, cloud-filled nights, his mind was as full of thoughts surrounding his existence as there were clouds in the night sky.
As he pondered, golden sand caught his eye as he watched the brightly colored particles fly in the sky and smiled, he had heard of such a being from the stories being told around. At first, when he heard one iteration of this "Sandman", he was rightly terrified at the prospect of a being who would throw sand in the eyes of children and as a result, said eyes would fall out and while normally, it was just a story, the things he did were beyond stories and the fact that he had seen such sand during his first night as a ghost, he felt somewhat paranoid and lucky in a way.
But as he watched the sand reach the window of a house and surrounded a sleeping child, images of knights of old prancing about atop horses were conjured above the child's head, the Boy could not help but recall one iteration of the Sandman, written by someone called Hans in some far off place called Denmark.
And in said iteration, it portrayed the being as someone who would grant dreams to children when they were asleep, and the Boy felt that this Sandman was that being or at least someone as close to it.
I wonder if this Sandman is capable of granting nightmares to naughty children? The Boy asked himself, but before he could entertain such a thought, he saw a glimpse of the moon shining through and he could feel it again, that tug in the back of his mind, beckoning him.
Calling him.
Could it be? The Boy thought, before he felt a gentle breeze pass him by before it pushed him, towards somewhere.
"East..." The Boy's head spun around and pointed his staff in a direction, suddenly alert at the sound of a whispering voice...?!
"Go East..." He sharply turned again, accidentally shooting a burst of frost from his staff and freezing a part of a chimney.
"Who's there?!" The Boy called out, hearing the whisper again, it sounded hoarse and weak, as if in pain or dying.
When the Voice didn't reply, the Boy sighed in frustration before running a hand through his hair. East? Go East? The Boy had heard that going east leads to Europe, a continent where vast nations and empires thrive, where places like "Great Britain" and "France" and even Denmark to name a few that he heard from the people here, were all in Europe.
"Going east, huh?" The Boy muttered under his breath as he looked to the sky and at the moon peeking through the clouds before turning away.
"To think I was going to... go back to my cabin and sleep, if I can even sleep or, if I ever slept at all." He continued bitterly, pacing on the roof. "Now I'm supposed to "Go East", a-and do what exactly?!"
"Will I get the answers that I've waited... years for, or is it even more questions?!" The Boy spat quietly, glaring at the ground before sighing despondently.
Before he could say more, he was thrown off the roof by some unknown force, strong enough to send him flying into some trees...
THUD!
...before crashing into the leaf-covered ground.
Groaning, the Boy tried to get up, only for something to pin him down by the arm.
Said something had teeth as evident by the sharp pain he felt.
"Gah!" Yelled out the Boy, looking to his side, only to stare in surprise and fear.
It looked to be some sort of wolf, only that it was a little bigger, its fur was a mix between a dark gray and a pitch black shade, and its wild eyes were a sickly orange.
The wolf-like creature seemed to not do anything else other than biting his arm, pinning him down. With staff in his other, non-bitten arm, he was about to push the creature off when a foot stomped down on his wrist, eliciting another cry of pain from the Boy as he forcibly let go of his staff.
"So, this is who the fool decided to awaken?" A thick, accented voice asked as the Boy turned from his stomped wrist, only to face the edge of a blade leveled at his nose.
His eyes looked up to see the owner of said blade, but while the figure was shrouded in a cloak, he saw that this person was big and intimidating.
"Hang on just a moment." Another voice called out as another cloaked figure seemingly hopped towards the Boy and the other figure.
"Aren't you supposed to keep this one alive? Boss says so." The hopping figure spoke.
"Who are you people?" The Boy asked wearily, making the first figure turn back to him, making the blade draw closer.
"Quiet, boy." The figure sharply replied before turning back to their companion. "And you, fetch the sack."
"If you say so..." The second figure sighed, hopping off once again whilst mumbling curses under their breath.
Silence reigned and the tension between the first figure and the Boy with the Staff had not considerably gone down, what with the latter being held at bladepoint.
"I will be honest." The figure suddenly spoke. "You were hard to track down considering your efforts to remain hidden in the last hundred years."
Hundred years...
"A shock, is it not?" The figure asked, seeing the dreadful realization in the Boy's eyes.
"One hundred years or so, to not be seen or noticed, as if you're not there... as if you are a ghost." The figure then began to double down on his wrist, slowly but painfully crushing it.
The Boy groaned from the pain and tried to move, only for the wolf-like creature to bite down harder on his other arm, making him yell out from the pain of both his arms.
"At the same time, you could still feel pain, inside and out."
"What do you want from me?" The Boy groaned out, glaring at the figure who was seemingly mocking him.
The question seemed to relieve him of the immense pressure on his wrist.
"It is not my place to tell you, only the Master may disclose to you his and by extension, our intentions." The figure replied.
It didn't take long until the second figure arrived with a brown sack, the size of which is large enough to fit an entire person.
"Overheard your little chat. The Boss would be delighted to meet you, Winter Sprite." The second figure spoke, spitting out the nickname.
"You'll find that for one, I hate that name." The Boy then touched the first figure's foot, freezing their boot as a distraction as the blade was momentarily taken away from his face.
Taking the initiative, he called for his staff and shot a burst of frost at the wolf, making it whine and releasing his arm.
He quickly got up, ducking to avoid a swing from the first figure and a kick from the second and slammed his staff down, freezing the ground beneath them and subsequently freezing their boots a little.
Floating back to a safer distance, the Boy for probably the first time, felt a little more cocky.
"And two, you might have to catch me, again as it seems." He finished with a smirk as he flew away at high speeds.
He flew. Flew past Burgess, past Philadelphia and soon enough, he flew over open ocean, the wind howling against him as he spun around to look back at the land he heard a couple of people in Burgess and other towns call "America".
The Boy sighed before spinning back and urging the wind to speed up.
No turning back now. He thought before he felt water dripping on his clothes. His breath hitched as he looked up and felt raindrops touch his face.
It didn't take long before rain began to pick up in intensity, and the Boy with the Staff was facing a storm. He felt the winds pushing against him from all sides while raindrops and seawater from waves peppered him. He felt like he was being tossed around and it was like the Pond all over again but twice as intense.
Then he felt something press against his side and pushed him towards the water violently. He then heard nothing but his heartbeat as he opened his eyes and realized he was underwater, again.
He held back the urge to breathe in, for while he was just fine underwater, it felt uncomfortable having water inside his body. But as he tried to swim back up, he felt whatever pushed him underwater press against him again.
Not this time! He told himself as he turned with a blind swing of his staff and it froze something. As he opened his eyes, he faced what looked to be a horse-like creature dazed from the attack before it charged towards him with a muffled neigh.
"Uh oh." He managed to muffle out before trying to swim away from the charge only to be hit by its hooves and felt his vision blur before passing out.
Billy: OH BOY, Merry Christmas people, hope the wait was worth it because HOT DIDDLY DANG, it was hard sparing time for writing when you got school and Christmas to deal with
Anon: Now we're free somewhat
Bunny: And I'm officially back as well
Billy: So for those waiting for another Theater of Madness fic, we're putting it on hold FOR NOW because in the spirit of the season, we're focusing on this fanfiction for a little bit
Bunny: We're obviously not gonna write by New Year because noise and fireworks do not go well with writing
Anon: Indeed. So anyways, how's the chapter and the story so far? Don't forget to Read and Review
Billy: FAVORITE AND FOLLOW
Bunny: Stay Tuned for the Next Chapter!
Anon: Stay Cool and Anonymous
Billy: STAY BOMBASTIC
AND HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!