The afternoon sun had just began its slumber when the usual patrons bid their farewell to the librarian, each headed off to their other nightly business– the living ones atleast. The other wandering souls however, grew more active with their furious scribbling, the rest leisurely perusing the bookshelves. Each one shared the noble pursuit of crossing the afterlife through the aid of the Scriptorium.

It is also during this time when Kastimir would get a glimpse of what each ghost truly looked like. Unlike most mediums, our main character has a curious flaw. Despite being employed as a librarian for years, he is, in fact, unable to see ghosts. Kas had to rely on the library's various implements. Artifacts steeped with mysteries. Some of which, he is able to wield.

Among these artifacts are the mysterious bookmarks that appear after a ghost finished writing its life story, and the other one, a lantern bearing an ethereal flame.

The flickering glow of the lantern perched on his desk cast long shadows across the room, its light growing dimmer as night truly took hold. The artifact was an object of peculiar power—it could only be used after dusk, and when lit, it allowed Kastimir to see the souls of the departed. The flames within it were born of magic, not fire, and in their flickering glow, one could gaze upon a ghosts' true form.

The soft, ghostly hum of a figure resonated in the air before him. Slowly, a form began to materialize—faint at first, but solidifying under the lantern's ethereal light. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the kind of elegance that suggested a life once full of passion and purpose. His face was sharp, yet a deep sadness haunted his eyes.

The ghost looked up at Kastimir, an expression of surprise crossing his translucent features.

“You... can see me?” the figure asked, his voice strained, yet filled with a resigned curiosity.

Kastimir smiled gently, a familiar, unspoken understanding passing between them. “Ironic isn't it?,” he replied. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

The ghost blinked, confusion flitting across his expression before his gaze fell to the floor. “I felt inexplicably drawn to this place, going here felt... natural.”

Kastimir raised an eyebrow. "All the ghosts that came before you said the same thing. I don't know either, but one thing is for certain, folks like you come here to finish their unfinished business, I'm Kastimir by the way, librarian and ghost administrator of the Leyline Scriptorium."

"Like an afterlife agency? Do ghosts still pay taxes?"

"Not quite. You see, as ghosts the only currency you have at your disposal is your soul. Of course, I do not charge your entire soul, that would be cruel, but the emotional baggage that you bear, work wonders in keeping this business going. Like some sort of energy."

"So you want... My burdens?"

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Yes. You're a smart one, most ghosts have muddled memory induced by pre-mortem trauma. But you still have your wits about you. Call me impressed."

The ghost nodded slowly. “I was supposed to be a celebrity pianist. Playing the piano felt as natural as breathing to me…” His voice cracked slightly, as if the memories themselves were raw, aching. “But then my brother. He was younger than me, and yet he always had more passion for the craft. I couldn’t... I couldn’t bear to outshine him. He was the one with the dream of greatness, the one with the drive. I settled with being a music teacher instead. A quiet life.”

The ghost's image shimmered, as though the weight of his decision was too much to bear. “But it was never enough. Not for me.”

Kastimir felt the flicker of something familiar, an echo of his own lost chances. He had seen this before—this feeling of letting go of one’s true path for someone else’s sake. It was a kind of quiet sacrifice, a burden no one truly saw, but one that destroyed the soul over time.

“You gave up your dreams for your brother,” Kastimir said gently. “But what did it cost?”

The black cat purrs.

The ghost’s expression softened with regret. “I gave up the chance to be who I really was... for fear of losing him. For fear of seeing him fall apart. I didn’t want to be the reason he couldn’t be great.”

Kastimir could feel the burden in the air, thick and suffocating. There were moments in every life when one had to choose: to follow the course of their own heart, or to allow love and loyalty to drag them down, through winding paths, losing pieces of themselves in every turn. The ghost had taken the latter path, and in doing so, had condemned himself to an eternity of sorrow.

But there was something else too—something Kastimir's keen observation allowed him to deduce. A shadow in the ghost’s soul, something left unsaid.

“You never got the chance to tell him, did you?” Kastimir asked. “The truth about your sacrifices.”

The ghost’s eyes welled with sorrow. “He never knew. He never could. And I… I couldn’t bear it. He is on his way to stardom you see. February 14th, his piano skills will be demonstrated in front of the whole world. If he knew about the truth, I thought he’d hate me. If I told him I gave up everything for him. Everything I loved."

The lantern’s flame flickered brighter for a moment, as if it, too, wanted to reveal the truth. Kastimir stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the ghost. “But you’ve been hiding, haven’t you? You decided to live as a music teacher but have never once interacted with your brother. Instead of facing him, you just decided to hide from the truth, from your brother, and from yourself. And now you’re trapped within the cage your built yourself.”

The ghost winced, the realization settling in. The pain, the regret—it was all because he had never truly been honest. In his efforts to protect his brother, he had erased himself, and in doing so, he had erased his chance for reconciliation, for healing.

Kastimir exhaled softly, feeling the weight of the words in the air. "It’s not too late to let go,” he said.

"It isn't as simple as that."

"That's where I come in. You'll never know what other emotions lie dormant until you meet him again. You may never find the courage to see him, but I'll go with you. I'm sort of, a veteran when it comes to these things. All you have to do is to subscribe to my services."

"I've been hiding all my life. I'm not about to hide again in death. How do I avail your services?"

"You have met the conditions for transaction," Kastimir stated in a serious tone.

As if summoned by his words, a phantasmal ledger materialized before them. Kas flips over to a blank page, ready to write their agreement.

Kastimir handed the ghost a fountain pen. “Fill in your details, and we’ll get started.”

The ghost took the pen, his eyes still filled with uncertainty, but a glimmer of hope began to form, sparked by the possibility of redemption.