Like Ghosts In The Snow

I sat there, starring at the library for about twenty minutes now. I heard Frank enter that room about a half an hour ago, and he still did not come out. I have no idea what he could be doing in there other than read, but for as long as I sat there I had not of yet heard one page turn. No closing of a book or even a shuffle of a movement. It was like he wasn’t even in their, period. It was dead silent.

Now that I thought back on it, he always goes in the library around this time. Always from the time of 8 o’clock to 10 o’clock at night. I never once ever asked him, for we hadn’t really talked much since he really showed himself to me that night. The night that he began to call me ‘Geegasm’ was really the last time I had talked to him. He was either invisible or non talkative. He didn’t mess with me, Mikey or my mother and father for that matter. It was as if he wasn’t even there.

So that’s why I am sitting here today. In front of those library double doors to finally get some answers. I was getting so tired of Frank mopping around so much, when at first he was so full of life and happy. I was going to ask him some questions that could possibly destroy him, and the little of our friendship that we had. Only if he would come out of that fucking library.

I was getting tired of waiting. I was way too anxious and nervous to the point that my palms were sweating and I was beginning to get just a little light headed from thinking too hard. I couldn’t help but wonder if this really was the right thing to do. It really wasn’t my issues to ask about, so I honestly had no place in asking. But before I could think of anything more, my feet were moving and I was already entering the library.

It was dark. Not pitch dark, but dark. The little rays of the sunset were shining in dimly from the windows in the room, leaving an orange, reddish gleam on the floors. It looked extremely beautiful, but the situation that I was in made it so much less enjoyable. I looked around at the table, the couch, and even the bookshelves, before I found out that Frank wasn’t in my sight. Frank wasn’t in the library at all.

I was sure I knew Frank was in here. He has always been in here around this time lately, and I had even heard him enter. The thought of how ghosts can go through walls went through my head, but I didn’t think that it was a possibility for Frank. He tended to sometimes get stuck in them. My mother swore up and down to Mikey that it was just a small rodent or something of the sorts, but Frank was making nowhere near the amount of noise that a mouse would. When Frank was stuck in the walls he was loud. But, that is beside the point. I was sitting in front of this place since almost as soon as he first went in.

A small creaking noise in the corner of the room got my attention. I snapped my head over to the sound and there, in he corner of the room, half hidden by a bookshelf was a small opened door. It wasn’t that large, and it definitely was not noticeable. It was just the size that a person would be able to crawl through it. But I don’t know who would want to go in there, it had reminded me of a cellar, and those things creep me the fuck out.

Apparently, Frank hadn’t minded it. He had just crawled out of the small opening in the wall, a look of despair and remorse playing on his face. I really hadn’t seen Frank that sad before.

“Geegasm?” Frank questioned as he spot me by the door, a shocking tone ringing throughout his voice. “What are you doing in here?”

“I uh- I wanted to see where you got off to, I kind of figured you would be in here.” I was fumbling through my words, my nerves accelerating even more than they once had. Just by the look on Frank’s face, I could tell that he knew something was going on.

“Oh.” Frank scooted the rest of his way out of the darkened hole in the wall, and began to get up and back on his feet. Hi dusted what looked like a pile of dust off his knee, and sauntered his way over to me.

“Just handling some things, its not much of a big deal.” Frank took a side-glance back over to the small door, my gaze followed.

“What is it in there? I didn’t even know that place existed, let alone that someone would want to actually hang out in there.” I alleged, attempting to actually calm myself down more than I had been a minute ago, and even though my heart was still racing fast, I was beginning to compose myself.

Frank took a long breath in through his nose, which I know and he knew wasn’t actually necessary. He once told me breathing, was actually just a habit for him. His eyes looked glassy, like if he could he would be crying right now. He looked, for lack of a better word, dead.

“Its kind of a personal thing to talk about, Geegasm.” Frank whispered as he rubbed his hand up and down on his forearm.

I sighed and nodded my head, not really giving up on what I was trying to figure out, but more of trying to get Frank to tell me himself, so it wasn’t forced. That way I wouldn’t end up feeling as bad either. But no matter what, I was going to find something out by the end of tonight.

“It isn’t really something that I can just come out and say, like it will be strange for you to hear. Possibly, disturbing. I don’t know if you can handle that yet. You don’t know much about death, or honestly much about life either, especially the paranormal. I don’t know if it will be too overwhelming for you to handle. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Geegasm.” I nodded my head to him in anticipation.

“I think I’d be able to handle it all through.” I confirmed. Frank closed his eyes thoughtfully and nodded his head.

“Alright. Follow me.”

…
Frank and I had been sitting in the dark, small and honestly quite creepy hole for about ten minutes now. I didn’t hesitate one bit when he told me I needed to go in here, even though in the back of my mind I kind of thought it was sort of creepy, following a ghost into a cellar to hear about how he died. If anything, it sounded like a horror movie gone wrong. But for some odd reason, I trusted Frank. And I knew deep down that I wouldn’t actually be harmed. Well, physically that is.

I heard Frank actually move for the first time since we got in here. It sounded sort of like the rustling of leaves as he moved, and this unnamable clanking sound was soon added on afterwards. Soon following after, I felt this cool, hollow-like feeling on my right arm. I shook my hand to try and get it off, but then as soon as it was gone, it was back right away.

“This is me.” Frank whispered, his voice so close and right up to my ear. I felt his ghostly presence right next to me, almost like he was sitting on my thigh. I cocked my head to the side in a confused manner. What did he mean this was him? It didn’t feel like skin, it felt harder, kind of rugged. I grabbed at what was on my arm, and Frank let the object go, letting me caress it in my now quivering hands. I ran my fingers along the piece, feeling all of the different dips and curves, the different textures. I had the urge to knock on it. It was all hollow. This was Frank’s skeleton.

My first thought was to throw it on the floor and just get this thing out of my hand, but before I could, Frank took it away again, and in its place, was a rope. It was a rope, as I could tell. It was old and brittle feeling, but still tough at the same time. Frank took away the piece and replaced it with a hunk of itchy cloth. I could help but have a long shiver shake its way down my spine. This was the place where Frank had died. This was the place where Frank had been murdered.

Everything was becoming clear now, the distant smell of metal, and the locks that were latched onto the door, the tight space. The pure and utter darkness. This was the place where Frank had been murdered. I was sitting in the ghost boy’s death chamber. And I could not feel more afraid.

“My father had told me to go in the library one night.” Frank’s ghostly voice began. “He had told me that he had a new selection of books that he had wanted me to check out. I was in the library all the time, he knew I loved reading, knew I loved all of the new books that he would buy me.” Frank spoke, his tone neutral. I stayed silent, in complete disturbance and shock.

“When I got up there, I knew something was really different. Something was off. I looked at my father, and he was crying. He was crying, the man that had always told me that grown men did not cry no matter what. But here he was, tears streaming down his face. He had a single book in his hand. It was Frankenstein. One of my favorites, but when we moved here it was lost.” His voice trailed off. I felt the coolness of a hard cover book against my skin. Frank had just put it there. In my hands, replacing the cloth.

“He told me he was laid off from work, and that this would be the last book that I would have for a long time. I never thought that was the only thing that had been bothering him.” Frank shuffled on his knees. “So much more was bothering him.”

*Flash Back*

“I can’t keep a fucking job.” My father seethed as he threw yet another book at the wall. “I can’t make anyone fucking happy. I am a good for nothing shit head.” A book crashed through the window. “Do I make you unhappy, Frank?” He turned his attention over to me.

I shook my head no cautiously. I hadn’t wanted to upset him further, so I decided I would keep quiet. At times like theses, that was the best thing to do.

“You little shit! Answer me!” a book slammed into the side of my face, causing me to fall forward, pain and blood washing over the whole left side of my face. I clutched onto the flesh, my fingers getting wet from the wet crimson blood. I spoke no words.

“All of a sudden the cat got your tongue?” his anger sneered through his voice, like he was under a sort of demonic possession. His veins were popping out of his forehead, his eyes beady and bulging out. Another book hit me in the back, causing me to fall flat on my stomach. I hushed a low groan that made its way out of my lips.

“I am getting sick and tired of you too, you know why Frank?” he questions, walking over to me and gripping me by the long hair of my fringe and yanking me back to look at him dead in the eyes.

“Why?” I tried out a whisper, my voice sounding severely indifferent, even to my own ears.

“You’re a faggot.” He rips out a long piece of rope from his pocket, I stare at it in shock. This did not seem like my father. This could not be my father doing this to me. But as he tied and bound my feet and hands together, it became so much more real. This was my dad, and he was out to kill me.

My heart rate sped up and the room began to spin. I suddenly felt alone, I felt completely useless. I could feel the rushing over blood in my veins, my pounding heart in my chest. And as he pulled out a thick piece of cloth, I felt my eyes prickle with tears.

He began whispering things into my ears, menacing things, as he took out his pocketknife that I had gotten him last year for Christmas. He began to rip-off my clothes, cutting the material with the knife like it was butter, until I was left naked. With the knife in hand and a snide smile, he carved Fag in my pounding chest, the flesh ripping apart with every slash as I was being forever branded. The cool blade seeping deeper into my skin as the word began to fall into place, the metallic blood pooling in a heap around me, dripping off the knife like it was nothing. Like it had belonged there.

After an agonizing five minutes of nothing but howling screams, pleas for help and the feeling of death climbing over top of me, like smoke to a flame. He stopped. He dropped the knife down in a pool of blood next to my quivering body. I could not move an inch. I was in shock.

He grabbed my frail body by the rope in which my hands were bound and began to drag me to the corner of the library, when I saw it, A gaping hole in the wall. It was never there before, but as I starred at it through blurry eyes, I knew that this place was going to be my casket. He growled as he threw me into the dark, his eyes profound with anger. He smiled at me, an evil smile that showed every single one of his teeth before he walked away from me.

I lay there, muffling cries into the itchy cloth that had held my mouth shut. I whispered prayers to god. I knew I was going to die in this place. There was no doubt about it. I didn’t ask for god to save me now, for I knew it was already too late. And by the time it was all over, even if I did make it, I would be murdered mentally. I prayed to god he would take my soul, he would forgive me for all of my sins, that e would make me an angel. And s I laid there, crumbled up on the cold cement floor, feeling like I was garbage, feeling like I was nothing, I had hope.

The last thing that I can remember, the last thing that comes to mind is a book being thrown at me from outside in the library. It was Frankenstein, just like my father had just given to me. He appeared from the only light source that I had left, his smirking face shining in the light.

“Have a nice read.” The door slammed, locks latched, and I was left alone in the darkness.

*END FLASHBACK*

“I had died two days later. I was in this place for two whole days before I finally died.” Frank was quiet. “The rats ate me alive.”

I shuddered from the horrid memories that flooded trough my head. I felt disgusted, I felt terrified. But most of all I wanted to seek revenge. I wanted that fucker to die. I reached my hand out in the dark, searching for something. And when I finally found it, that small little cloud of cold, I reached my arms out to it in an embrace. Frank tried his best to hug me back, I could tell as the cold engulfed me.

“I will get that fucker Frank, I promise.” I wiped the flowing tears from my eyes. I will get my revenge, if it was the last thing that I did.