Don't Listen, Darling

As we sat there, watching the butterfly like snow, start to fall from the dark sky above, through the old and rugged window, things were peaceful, to a point of which, I did not know how to describe. The nearest I could ever get to explaining this feeling, was that many would describe it parallel to that of death. Of course, that pun, was intended.

Jumping awake, as the snow perilously failed to fight, turning into harsh and loud rain, I realised I still did not know that of this charming man’s name. Strange how sidetracked you can get from the matter at hand.

“Will you tell me about yourself?” I asked, hoping his hand, twiddling gently with the dark purple strands my hair mostly consisted of, would send me back into that state of peace again.
“If you want, I’m not very interesting though… but, as you wish.”

The paramedics rushed the child through the hospital doors, his skin covered in soot and burns, his head bleeding ever so slightly from a small wound near the edge of his hair line. One of the dark uniformed paramedics was consorting in a rushed voice to the doctor, who was quickly relaying the notes back on to an official looking document.

“Name; Ville Valo. Age; Nine. He was in a house fire, minor burns, a few cuts, but he took a nasty blow to the head when the staircase collapsed;” Then in a very hushed voice, the paramedic turned away from Ville, to whisper quietly to the doctor; “The family didn’t make it.”

"I was born here, in Helsinki, my mother was a charming woman, always used to make these fresh little cream cakes… She also taught me how to make a lovely blackcurrant and berry tea. My father was a bit more adrift then my mother, but all the same, a lovely person.

I’m in a smallish band, called H.I.M, and I like to boast that the name is completely parallel to what most would expect it to sound. Ever since the fire, I have been able to see the childish ghosties. My brother died in my arm’s in that. I’ll never forget that, ever, really.”

Obviously finished, he lifted the now devoid of food tray, taking the tea pot and cup away, turning his back to me, before stalking over to the door across the room.

He didn’t turn back to speak this time, his voice a little raspy, and I noticed a few drop of water on the floor, following him. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon, then we can talk a little more.” He didn’t phrase it as that of a question. Shutting the door behind himself quietly, I slipped back under the silky covers, letting that of sleep consume me again.

I woke up to someone sitting on the edge of the bed again, and again it was Ville. The only difference this time is that his facial expression was very sullen like. And that he was gently fumbling his fingers over a dark crystal like object.

"If you could make every soul, alive, dead, or in-between, happy, at the cost of one person, forever to be haunted, followed, and never know that of peace, would you do so?" He asked, his voice deeper than I had ever heard before, his eyes glazed over with hidden emotion as he looked at me
.
He jerked up, startling me as his eyes turned almost black with anger, looking me straight in the face. “You wanted to know why it’s so quiet? Well, my family diedfor this quiet, FOR THIS STUPID PIECE OF FREAKING ROCK!” He flung it at one to the walls, making an indent appear on the wallpaper.

Then, almost like the sun had been pulled out of the sky, the room went pitch black, and the screaming ghosts returned.

I kicked and flailed as my ear’s screeched with their putrid voices, crying for someone, anyone to hear their cries of despair. Tear’s poured from my eyes flying like leaves from a dying tree, my nose began to bleed dark crystals, and my head began to sink into unconsciousness. Then it all stopped, Ville’s arms wrapped around mine again, my body curled in a tight ball on the hardwood floor, my very being shook with fear, and that unbearable sadness, yet again.