Quick to respond, Noël questioned the spirit in a monotonous tone, voice sounding really young and yet completely devoid of life.
“Why would you envy me? I possess no good attributes.”
A silence consumes the two figures, one deceased and one not entirely…human. The cacophony of skeletons dragging themselves atop stone and solid earth does nothing to dispel the eerie tranquility of Noël and the ghost.
“I hate you.”
“I hate you so much.”
Reanimated skeletons continued to trek across the grotto, but Noël merely sidestepped them as they approached. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
“If you can’t figure out why I envy you, then…there’s nothing more I can say.” The ghost’s wispy voice was shaky as he buried his face in his hands. Tears appeared to fall, only to evaporate into nothingness before they reached soft earth. “Out of everyone here, why did you get to live again? What makes you so special?”
Still and silent like a porcelain doll; Noël’s gaze lingered on the spell book clutched within his hands. As he raised it up, the skeletons closest to his vicinity recoiled…either in fear or distrust.
I really don’t see why they’re so scared of this silly old thing. Not like they can feel pain. They’re dead, afterall.
His hands brushed over the worn-out, leathery cover of the journal. If anyone was good at silencing the dead, it would be his dear old Aunt. She always did have an affinity towards the grotesque and macabre.
Even though her absence left a permanent hollow within his heart, she always found a way to help him through such trifling dilemmas. Perhaps they’re scared of fire…that could be why they seem so……frightened of me?
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The young vampire unconsciously shifted from one foot to the other, unaware that he had wandered off to a small space in the grotto. Heavy clinking noises broke the normal sounds of wind and brittle bones clattering against each other like clockwork. Small objects scattered throughout the ground appeared to be shining with an indescribable glow despite the all-consuming darkness of the grotto.
Then again, I, too, am terrified of fire. I can’t blame them for shirking away at the thought of being set aflame……
But…I can’t just leave them.
I must still lull these ghost children into an eternal rest. It’s not right to leave them like this, forever young and trapped within this tomb.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.”
Strangely enough, he now truly appeared to be apologetic, albeit for not entirely accurate reasons. “Fire is the worst and I don’t blame any of you for hating me over suggesting it as a means to an end.”
Noël raised his oversized sleeves over his head in a placating gesture. The movement was uncannily similar to a red robin as he continued to flap his arms in an attempt to gain the attention of the skeletons…seemingly unaware that such an action was not needed.
“Don’t you worry! I promise to set none of you on fire,” Noël proudly declared. “In all honesty, I would have been too scared to go through with that plan.”
Dumbfounded, the ghost child was at a loss for words.
The reanimated skeletons still continued to wander across the grotto, uncaring of the vampire’s proclamation.
“What, that wasn’t what I meant—”
“I never break my promises!” He raised his hand in a salute to the ghost child, voice still deadpan and face emotionless.
Ignorant to the ghost child’s conflicting emotions, Noël proceeded to flip through his spell book once more. “Hm, what to do, what to do…I could try chopping up everyone here and burying you all, but no……”
“That’s how this whole ordeal started in the first place.”
“Oh, maybe I could toss all of you into the ocean…there’s a lot of salt there. Though, I doubt that would accomplish much……wait—I know just the thing!”
Noël beamed at the bewildered specter, though, on him, such an expression was rather depressing. “I’ll just have you all decay to the point of crumbling into dust.”
“Of course, it doesn’t sound pleasant, but it sure beats getting stabbed and waking up in a coffin half a century later,” Noël offhandedly mumbled.
“If only I had a shovel……”
His words trailed off as a glimmer of silver caught his eye. Turning his gaze downward, Noël finally noticed where his shoes had led him. Scattered throughout the cold, hard ground were pots, plates, pans, and other household items in varying degrees of rust.
“They’re all broken. What a horrible place to be murdered in,” Noël sighed as he picked up a cracked mirror. Due to the wet climate of the grotto as it was directly next to the ocean, the bronze mirror oxidized into a pastel green. While it was worn and not entirely usable, it still possessed a modicum of beauty and charm. Images of mermaids and sea serpents were imprinted upon its metal frame.
“Mirrors are rather awful, aren’t they…?” He nodded at the mirror, as if expecting an inanimate object to agree with his assessment.
As he was about to toss the mirror aside, Noël caught the sight of faded, purple eyes staring back at him.
“Lila…?”