TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 33

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 33

Warning…adult content

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE

(33rd intallment)

warning… adult content

Some time later, Steve woke and looked over at Ghost, still sound asleep. The moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the bedroom with it’s bright glow. It reflected on Ghost’s pale hair, making the golden strands look like little sparkles. Steve brushed a wisp off Ghost’s forehead, making Ghost smile in his sleep. Steve always liked to watch him sleep, wondering what dreams roamed around in his head. He bent over to give Ghost a light kiss on his mouth, when he noticed one of Ghost’s teeth was broken, the side of one of his front teeth. He thought he’d felt something sharp earlier, when they’d kissed. He would ask about it in the morning. He kissed his own finger, putting it to Ghost’s lips. As Ghost moved, Steve’s finger accidently was in Ghost’s mouth…he felt him suck on it.

“Oh, my God,” he thought. This wasn’t what he’d intended, but in spite of this, he was feeling aroused again. He told himself to stop molesting Ghost while he slept, then rolled over to try and go back to sleep. He thought it would be impossible now, but sleep did overtake him.

Toward dawn, Ghost woke and it all came back to him, all the events of the night before. He smiled, looking over at Steve. Easing out of bed, so as not to wake him, he went into the kitchen, hoping he remembered how to make coffee. After finally getting it started, he wandered around, just looking at his house. The old house his grandmother raised him in, and left to him after her death. This was his home. He was not homeless any more.

Then a thought came to him…a kind of scary thought. He’d not been back in his bedroom, yet. The door had been closed, and he and Steve…well…he hadn’t even considered leaving Steve’s bed. But now…now maybe he should go in there…or wait for Steve to wake up.

“It’s just my old room, nothing scary about it. Steve probably just swept out all the old dried rose petals and leaves already. Hadn’t he?” he thought. For some reason he still hesitated, afraid of what seeing the room would do to him. The last time he was  in there was when Steve almost killed him. He was afraid of the impressions left on the room. They would assault him now.

He slowly went down the hallway, and put his hand on the doorknob. “I can do this,” he told himself, “I have to.” It took him a bit to actually turn the handle. His hands were shaking and slippery with sweat. He had a bad feeling about this. “I should get Steve,” he thought. In the end, though, he did open the door…just a crack at first, then it swung open.

What he saw in that room, his room, was complete devastation. A maelstorm of long sealed up emotions and visions of what took place there, came rushing out at him, swirling around him, seeking to claim him in their dark essence, forevermore. His entire body was being attacked all over again. His breath was sucked out of him, and he fell to his knees in anguish. He tried, but couldn’t close his eyes or his mind to what he saw.

The room had been left exactly as it had been that terrifying night, almost two years ago. The complete chaos of clothes, papers, dried leaves, sparkly stars, turned over furniture, and blankets from the bed, were everywhere. All the words he’d written on the walls, in all the years, were looking down at him, closing in on him. But, worst of all were the bloodstains…so many bloodstains. They were splattered on the walls, the floor…and so, so much on the bed. His blood…blood he’d shed that night, still there, as if waiting for him to come back and claim it.

He couldn’t take any more. He felt himself shutting down, his senses overloaded, and he felt he’d pass out, was light headed, the room beginning to spin all around. As he finally gulped in a breath, there was one more assault on his senses. The long pent up smells of that night came to him…the bright coppery smell of blood, of vomit, of stale beer, of rape, of fear, of sweat and tears…all covered in a dusty, old, fetid grunge of despair and hopelessness.

Ghost heard a keening, moaning sound, and in some pocket of his brain, he wondered what it was, not realizing he was the one making the noise. He was sobbing, and the tears would not stop, as he sat there with his head bowed to his knees. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. Time did not exist for him anymore. Finally the assault seemed to be over, his mind had shut down, protecting him from further insults. He was floating above it all, looking down, as he saw Steve run out of the other bedroom and come over to him, embracing him, trying to comfort him. But, he could not. He was not there anymore…he was above this scene, his very soul was out of his body.

As he continued to watch, he could hear no sounds, but he did sense a feeling of deja vu. His soul had been untethered like this before…on that night of pain and sorrow. He realized a part of his soul had been left behind in this room. That’s why he had afterwards felt disconnected to everything. He was not complete. As soon as he thought that, the part of him that had been abandoned there in that rooom, shut away for so long, came slamming back into him, jolting him into reality once again.

He felt Steve holding him, begging him to come back, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. . It was quiet and peaceful there, where he’d been. He wasn’t in pain and turmoil. It was too hard to make sense of his life over here in the real world. The pain and chaos of trying so hard to make it through, and never quite being able to make it work, was almost too much to bear.

A strange thought came to him from somewhere…not really a premonition, but a past revelation of sorts. He heard clearly, “You were never supposed to be on this side of the ether, Ghost. It wasn’t the right time.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he said aloud.

Steve looked at him in confusion. Ghost was still pretty much out of it, and Steve remembered that he always talked to unseen entities…Ghost talking to ghosts. As Steve continued to hold Ghost close, and tried to find the words that would calm him and bring him back from the edge of wherever he’d been, he knew Ghost had been ready, and more than willing, to take that last step, and never return.

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Next part coming soon!

Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

© 2016 BS

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This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and original elements of this story are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

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2 responses »

    • Thank you so much, Teagan! I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying the story. Wishing you a fabulous weekend! (p.s. you’re story today was great, and made me wish we still had our Mustang! ) 🙂

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