Seravian
Androgynous Dragon
It was ten at night when a hooded young man approached the bus stop located at the corner of Jennings and Troy. The bus didn't often run late, but it was the weekend. Different hours.
Rain pelted down, as if pissed off at the world, soaking him down to the bone. There used to be a sheltered bench here. Some time ago, a year or two maybe, it had been removed. Homeless people had taken to sleeping there; it hadn't been a problem, until regular bus riders began to write complaints about the smell of urine cigarette butts, and even sightings of dried vomit. The nail in the coffin had been needles –drugs, likely heroine—being left around. All that remined now was a streetlamp and the sign for the bus stop itself.
The hooded young man shivered, keeping his arms snug at his sides and his hands in his pockets. His hand clutched his wallet. Hopefully the wetness didn't leak through and he could pay the driver. A few bucks were all he had to his name. He had left in a haste, no other choice, from a place he could no longer be. Out on his own, until he found somewhere new to settle. Just like the many homeless folks in this city.
He heard someone cough suddenly and jolted. Eyes wide from under his hood, he looked around but found nothing.
Must have been the rain causing his imagination to run wild. Jeremy always said he had adored him for his imagination. Sadness struck the hooded young man. The Jeremy he had known was gone, has been for years. In happier times, the two would talk for hours. He had never been attached to someone like he had been Jeremy. It was never easy, watching someone make bad decision after bad decision, becoming someone else entirely.
Now, here he was.
The cough again. Louder, hoarser this time.
When he looked beside him, this time, he found he was no longer alone. A tall, slim man had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, staring out to the street. He was dressed in a blazer with a dress shirt underneath, and a pair of dress pants to match. Upon his head, a casual fedora. He did not carry an umbrella. Yet, strangely was hardly fazed by the rain. In fact, despite the rain, he appeared to be dry as a bone.
"You know, being out in the rain is probably gonna make that cough worse," the hooded figure said.
The man startled and looked at him, "Pardon?"
"That cough sounds nasty; you should be indoors, being in the rain will probably make it worse."
"Oh.. You… You can see me?"
The hooded young man furrowed his brow and gave the stranger a look, "What, are you high or something? Of course I can see you."
"No, no, not high. Haven't been since… Shit, it's been so long now," the man chuckled, oddly giddy. The mood seemed to fall away quickly, however. "People… humans.. usually can't see ghosts. But I can tell you aren't human," the man leaned toward the hooded young man. "What sort of creature are you?"
A wide grin spread across the young man's face, revealing sharp teeth, "Was it that obvious?" He gave a chuckle and shifted his weight, then looked around. They still seemed to be alone, but he kept his voice down regardless, "If you're curious, well… Ever hear of the 'monster under the bed' as a kid? That's me."
"I believe I once held onto that idea," the ghost mused. "Though I must admit, I always imagined the 'monster under the bed' as something a little more… otherworldly."
"This isn't my real form."
"Ah. Blending in, I take it?"
"Yeah."
Silence fell for a moment. The monster sighed deeply and dared to glance at his watch to check the time. Ten 'o five. The bus wouldn't arrive for another twenty minutes, if the schedule was to be believed. It has been a long day.
"So," the monster said, looking up at the ghost. "How could you tell?"
"We ghosts know things," the man said matter-of-factly.
"I see… Hmm… Alright, next question. If you're a ghost, why hang here in the rain?"
The man pressed his lips together, looking down at a puddle that, beneath the light of the lone streetlamp, showed only the monster's reflection. Only, instead of something human, it showed a large shape with horns. Difficult to make out fully in the dark, in the dampness of the weather. The monster had half a mind to kick the puddle, but left it alone.
Some people liked the rain; Jeremy was one of them. Had this man been someone who enjoyed the rain?
Shifting a little, the monster said, "You don't have to—"
"No… No, it's fine," the ghost shrugged. "I don't choose to be here willingly." The monster felt stupid hearing that. Of course. Ghosts didn't stay in a place willingly; not all of them had the ability to go wherever they pleased. But he was not going to pry. However, before he could voice as much, the ghost continued: "This corner is where I was killed. Shot. Seven bullets to the chest. Gang violence. At least, that's what they said after the fact."
Silence fell again. The monster could only stare, a tightness in his chest, feeling as though he had been struck. "I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"It's… okay. Frankly, I've wanted to tell somebody why I'm here for a long time. I say here hoping, waiting."
"Waiting how long? Nobody else could see you?"
"Some people could. But none of them could help me move on so to speak."
The monster frowned, "I see…" He wasn't sure what else to say, if he should say anything at all. Jeremy used to get angry with him whenever he tried to say anything. After he started to change that is.
Hearing such a thing really killed the mood, damn it. He had not been prepared to deal with something tragic. The already cool air seemed to drop to an even colder temperature. There was an awkward knot in his chest. He tried to distract himself, but his mind went back to Jeremy. Then to the ghost, then back to Jeremy again.
Was the ghost hoping he could help him move on? Maybe he…
Idiot, he told himself. He had been warned that sentimentality would be his downfall.
"Why were you shot?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself. He kicked himself mentally. It wasn't any of his business. "Ah, sorry. I can't help my curiosity sometimes. You don't have to tell me. I… should not be meddling in he affairs of others anyway."
It was hard to tell what expression the ghost's face held –something between sorrow and.. relief?
"It's a long story, but, if you're willing to lend an ear, I'll tell you."
The monster blinked, taken aback, "Okay. I'm all ears." In an attempt at humor, he pulled back his hood, revealing a large, bat-like ear under a curly mess of chestnut hair, soaked from the rain. His lips turned up into a smirk when the ghost cracked a smile.
"Alright then," the ghost's voice cracked. He drew in a deep breath and cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and rolling on his heels. "I was a bad person. Manipulated people. Cheated people. But that silver-tongue of mine could get me anything. I worked my way up to a manager position at the company I worked for –automobile parts." He paused, coughed, and then licked his lips. "I felt like I was on top of the world. A man with a good paying job, and a family that looked straight out of one of those reality TV shows."
"Not the Kardashians, I hope," the monster snorted.
The ghost wasn't humored, "Who?"
"Never mind."
The ghost shrugged and continued his story: "Anyway, picture perfect on the outside, but on the inside? Chaos. Hell. And anger. A lot of it." His eyes filled with sorrow, regret. The monster felt the urge to put his hand on the man's shoulder, but stopped himself. Physical contact with a ghost was not a good idea, even for a creature like him… Could a ghost even be touched? He put the thought aside and kept listening.
"I wasn't good to my wife. In the beginning, there was love. Then I… I did her dirty. Always coming home late, drunk more often than not. But the nail in the coffin was drugs. My greed sent me down the path of drug dealing. She did not want that shit around her, or our daughter," the ghost's voice cracked again. Tears welled in his eyes. "We fought. I did… terrible things to her before that. Hid her car keys from her so she couldn't leave me was one of them. When drugs entered the picture, it only got worse. But, deep down, I agreed with her. I didn't want our daughter exposed to that."
"But by that point, man, it was too late. Greed had consumed me. When I was a kid, having more money than I knew what to do with was a dream. That dream had become a reality." He dabbed his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve, "It effected everything, including my job. I got into an argument with someone I should have listened to, believing I was right and they were wrong and nothing they could do would bring about any good. My blindness, and complacency, got me fired. I could have bowed out, turned my life around, instead I just… took all that anger I had, and took it home. My wife suffered.
"The cops were called to the house on numerous occasions. My silver tongue got them to back off every time. She never pressed charges either." He paused when he was struck with another fit of coughing, then let out a shaky breath and collected himself.
"That's… I'm sorry," the monster said in a gentle tone. Humans becoming consumed by greed was nothing new to him. Even the most wholesome individual had the potential for it, in some capacity. "Was your wife the one who shot you?"
The ghost shook his head, "No. I don't… know exactly who it was. My daughter and I were stepping off the bus one day, and then someone came up, grabbed her. I tried to fight back, but my own gun slipped from my hand. Next thing I know, I heard gunshots. The world went dark, and then I found myself here. As a ghost."
He tried to imagine it, a man spending the day with his daughter only to have her ripped from him. It wasn't pretty. But it was a reality so many were faced with.
"Didn't anyone try to help?" The monster straightened his posture, eyes hard, "Someone must have seen…"
"I'm sure someone did," the ghost's voice cracked. He swallowed and sighed, "It was my fault, you know? She got hurt because of me. Because I got into drugs… Pissed off the wrong people."
"I'm sorry. I watched drugs tear apart someone I loved, so I'm familiar with how bad things can get." He broke away from the ghost's gaze, stared at the ground. People could turn themselves around from greed if they had the desire.
"Yeah, it… Are you up for sharing your story?"
The monster looked back up at the ghost, "Eh, sure. I pried into your life, I can tell you a little about me and why I'm here at this bus stop." Conversing with a human, dead or alive, was not something he did every day. The bus was not here yet. Why not keep the conversation going to pass the time? "We monsters under the bed… We're not supposed to get attached to humans. When we find a child's bed to crawl under, we only hide there, scaring them, until they either chase us away or reach a certain age."
"And what about the adults that are afraid of the monster under their bed?"
"That doesn't happen too often, and when it does it's because the monster that found them is… particularly malicious. Or they just did something to piss that monster off. It varies, honestly. The reasons we do things." Like the reason he had stayed with Jeremy… Sometimes, he wondered, really wondered. And he regretted it.
Regret was something he and the ghost seemed to share.
"Are you malicious?" The ghost asked.
The monster shrugged, "Don't think so. I don't hate humans… I'm usually pretty indifferent. Human affairs aren't any of my concern. But…"
"But?"
"I won't deny it. I've come across a good many humans I took great pleasure in terrifying." He chuckled, thinking of the scars he had left them. "Jeremy was different. He wasn't afraid of me, actually spoke to me. I don't have the proper words for it –his family sucked. They were always yelling at him. I guess you could say I was his 'escape' from that. He stayed up a late most nights, even when I told him to sleep."
The ghost quietly listened as intently to his story as he had to his. A broken home. One a witness, the other a contributor.
If it was a simple as being a lonely child's friend, he would not be here at this bus stop.
"We were good friends," he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a picture Jeremy had taken. It was of a young boy grinning from ear to ear, sitting next to a strange shape the camera had not picked up well, on a bed that had an old Star Wars blanket. A memento of better times. "Sometimes, I wish I could have done more but we monsters aren't allowed to interfere with a child's home life. It isn't our place." He said, handing the photo out for the ghost to get a better look at.
"I never knew monsters had rules," the ghost mused, reaching out to the picture with mild curiosity. His fingers went right through, as if nothing was there. Brow furrowed, he frowned. It was hard to say for certain, but it looked like he wished he could hold something again. "The two of you look happy. I'd say I miss happiness, but, to be honest, I'm not sure how long it has been since I was truly happy. Even when I had everything."
"He was the one who taught me happiness. Until now, I've never experienced such an emotion in all my years."
"You must be older than you look."
The monster snorted, "Can't the same be said about you?"
"Touché."
After taking one last look at the photo, the monster pocketed it and sighed, "That picture is twenty years old." He wasn't sure if he missed happiness himself. It was a good feeling, sure, but it had slipped away in an instant. Because he had been foolish. Sentimental. Caring. However, what he did miss was the sense of camaraderie. A little friendship went a long way. Now that it was gone, he had come to realize what loneliness felt like.
"It's a nice memento, but I had a reason for taking it. I couldn't let him keep anything that reminded him of me. This hoodie, and my watch were among those items." He grinned and pulled up his sleeve to show off his watch.
The ghost hummed, "I see. But… why stay with someone for twenty years, if you have to move on?"
"The simple answer? Love."
"A monster loving a human… Interesting."
"Our love didn't really, what's the word? 'Blossom'? Until he was in his teens. We were just close friends until then. I… had this sense in me. I couldn't leave him." His eyes went downcast, his hands balled into fists, "I was so happy when his father passed, and his mother remarried to someone who was good for his family. He seemed to be doing better. Got through school alright. But then… he started hanging with a bad crowd. One of them even got arrested for robbing a convenience store." Thankfully, Jeremy had not been involved with that nonsense. Not that he could have stopped him. It would have counted as interfering.
"And those people were the ones who got Jeremy into drugs. It was just weed at first. Then alcohol. Then heroine… and god knows what else. I tried talking to him, but he'd only yell at me. It was his life, he could do what he wanted. I… stuck around because he did stop hanging with them. He was getting better. We were talking like we used to. Then, love. We confessed to each other then and there."
"And let me guess," the ghost spoke up. "He was better for a while, then was dragged back into it?"
"Yeah. He found a girlfriend, and then he got bad again. And I watched the two yell at each other. And beat each other. I saw my ticket out when the police were called the other night."
"That's rough."
The monster nodded, "Yeah. But it wasn't like I could do anything. Not allowed to interfere, remember?"
"Surely you could have made an exception for an adult?"
"Nope… I'm already in enough trouble as is for getting attached," he shivered, thinking what might happen if he were to be dragged before the elders. Whatever punishment would await him would be made more severe if he had not adhered to rule of not interfering.
Perhaps he was running from them more than he was trying to forget Jeremy. To move on. Come what may.
"The bus should arrive soon," the ghost looked off to the direction it would come. "This has been a nice chat. I'm glad I had someone to share with."
The monster flashed a smile, "I'm happy I could entertain."
"I do want to say one thing before we part ways: There are days I sit here, hoping, wondering if I'll see my daughter again. I fear she may either be dead, or… or worse."
"Is that why you can't move on? You want to see your daughter?"
"It is. I was a bad person, but she did not deserve… that."
The monster fell silent, shivered again. This time from the chill brought on by the rain –where was that damn bus? He tried to hide his eagerness toward getting out of this weather, not wanting to come off rude, by keeping his expression neutral. The tension in his body, hopefully, could be perceived as being cold rather than impatient or wanting to get away.
In all his life, he never thought about what humans did and did not deserve. He avoided human news, only focused on his own 'purpose'. If one could call it that. Something that kept some kind of natural balance, kept humans on their toes and aware that not everything in their world was as it seemed.
This man was not as deplorable as some of the other humans he has encountered. Perhaps that was why he could say he deserved some kind of closure.
"I don't normally do this…" the monster said, a little hesitant, "If you don't mind me asking, what's your daughter's name?"
"Bridget," the ghost answered, "Bridget Hawley."
"Hawley… I'll keep that in mind. I… I can't make any promises, but if I hear anything about someone named Bridget Hawley, I'll return here and let you know."
The ghost stared at him in disbelief, eyes welling with tears again. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, nodded, "Yes! Yes. That would be wonderful. Only, I don't know how old she'd be by now. Close to forty, maybe? If she is even still alive." He then added, "Wait, what about your rule of not interfering?"
"You aren't human anymore. I think it should be okay."
"Oh, you… Jesus, I would hug you if I could!"
The monster held his hand up, "That's quite alright. Never been one for hugs anyway."
"Fair enough," the ghost chuckled.
As their conversation ended, the bus could be seen coming down the road. It had gotten caught up by a red light.
Finally. He could get out of this damn rain… Hopefully the driver would take his soggy money.
"I guess this is good-bye then," the monster offered one last smile, "Like I said, no promises. But… maybe I'll be able to find something out."
"Thank you again."
Moments later, the monster stepped onto the bus, handed the driver –who gave him a look—his money and found a seat in the back. He looked out to the city, watching the scenery pass.
With any luck, he'd dodge the elders and slip under the bed of an unsuspecting child before the night was over. Put this all behind him. Go back to being the transient creature he has always been.
Rain pelted down, as if pissed off at the world, soaking him down to the bone. There used to be a sheltered bench here. Some time ago, a year or two maybe, it had been removed. Homeless people had taken to sleeping there; it hadn't been a problem, until regular bus riders began to write complaints about the smell of urine cigarette butts, and even sightings of dried vomit. The nail in the coffin had been needles –drugs, likely heroine—being left around. All that remined now was a streetlamp and the sign for the bus stop itself.
The hooded young man shivered, keeping his arms snug at his sides and his hands in his pockets. His hand clutched his wallet. Hopefully the wetness didn't leak through and he could pay the driver. A few bucks were all he had to his name. He had left in a haste, no other choice, from a place he could no longer be. Out on his own, until he found somewhere new to settle. Just like the many homeless folks in this city.
He heard someone cough suddenly and jolted. Eyes wide from under his hood, he looked around but found nothing.
Must have been the rain causing his imagination to run wild. Jeremy always said he had adored him for his imagination. Sadness struck the hooded young man. The Jeremy he had known was gone, has been for years. In happier times, the two would talk for hours. He had never been attached to someone like he had been Jeremy. It was never easy, watching someone make bad decision after bad decision, becoming someone else entirely.
Now, here he was.
The cough again. Louder, hoarser this time.
When he looked beside him, this time, he found he was no longer alone. A tall, slim man had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, staring out to the street. He was dressed in a blazer with a dress shirt underneath, and a pair of dress pants to match. Upon his head, a casual fedora. He did not carry an umbrella. Yet, strangely was hardly fazed by the rain. In fact, despite the rain, he appeared to be dry as a bone.
"You know, being out in the rain is probably gonna make that cough worse," the hooded figure said.
The man startled and looked at him, "Pardon?"
"That cough sounds nasty; you should be indoors, being in the rain will probably make it worse."
"Oh.. You… You can see me?"
The hooded young man furrowed his brow and gave the stranger a look, "What, are you high or something? Of course I can see you."
"No, no, not high. Haven't been since… Shit, it's been so long now," the man chuckled, oddly giddy. The mood seemed to fall away quickly, however. "People… humans.. usually can't see ghosts. But I can tell you aren't human," the man leaned toward the hooded young man. "What sort of creature are you?"
A wide grin spread across the young man's face, revealing sharp teeth, "Was it that obvious?" He gave a chuckle and shifted his weight, then looked around. They still seemed to be alone, but he kept his voice down regardless, "If you're curious, well… Ever hear of the 'monster under the bed' as a kid? That's me."
"I believe I once held onto that idea," the ghost mused. "Though I must admit, I always imagined the 'monster under the bed' as something a little more… otherworldly."
"This isn't my real form."
"Ah. Blending in, I take it?"
"Yeah."
Silence fell for a moment. The monster sighed deeply and dared to glance at his watch to check the time. Ten 'o five. The bus wouldn't arrive for another twenty minutes, if the schedule was to be believed. It has been a long day.
"So," the monster said, looking up at the ghost. "How could you tell?"
"We ghosts know things," the man said matter-of-factly.
"I see… Hmm… Alright, next question. If you're a ghost, why hang here in the rain?"
The man pressed his lips together, looking down at a puddle that, beneath the light of the lone streetlamp, showed only the monster's reflection. Only, instead of something human, it showed a large shape with horns. Difficult to make out fully in the dark, in the dampness of the weather. The monster had half a mind to kick the puddle, but left it alone.
Some people liked the rain; Jeremy was one of them. Had this man been someone who enjoyed the rain?
Shifting a little, the monster said, "You don't have to—"
"No… No, it's fine," the ghost shrugged. "I don't choose to be here willingly." The monster felt stupid hearing that. Of course. Ghosts didn't stay in a place willingly; not all of them had the ability to go wherever they pleased. But he was not going to pry. However, before he could voice as much, the ghost continued: "This corner is where I was killed. Shot. Seven bullets to the chest. Gang violence. At least, that's what they said after the fact."
Silence fell again. The monster could only stare, a tightness in his chest, feeling as though he had been struck. "I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"It's… okay. Frankly, I've wanted to tell somebody why I'm here for a long time. I say here hoping, waiting."
"Waiting how long? Nobody else could see you?"
"Some people could. But none of them could help me move on so to speak."
The monster frowned, "I see…" He wasn't sure what else to say, if he should say anything at all. Jeremy used to get angry with him whenever he tried to say anything. After he started to change that is.
Hearing such a thing really killed the mood, damn it. He had not been prepared to deal with something tragic. The already cool air seemed to drop to an even colder temperature. There was an awkward knot in his chest. He tried to distract himself, but his mind went back to Jeremy. Then to the ghost, then back to Jeremy again.
Was the ghost hoping he could help him move on? Maybe he…
Idiot, he told himself. He had been warned that sentimentality would be his downfall.
"Why were you shot?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself. He kicked himself mentally. It wasn't any of his business. "Ah, sorry. I can't help my curiosity sometimes. You don't have to tell me. I… should not be meddling in he affairs of others anyway."
It was hard to tell what expression the ghost's face held –something between sorrow and.. relief?
"It's a long story, but, if you're willing to lend an ear, I'll tell you."
The monster blinked, taken aback, "Okay. I'm all ears." In an attempt at humor, he pulled back his hood, revealing a large, bat-like ear under a curly mess of chestnut hair, soaked from the rain. His lips turned up into a smirk when the ghost cracked a smile.
"Alright then," the ghost's voice cracked. He drew in a deep breath and cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and rolling on his heels. "I was a bad person. Manipulated people. Cheated people. But that silver-tongue of mine could get me anything. I worked my way up to a manager position at the company I worked for –automobile parts." He paused, coughed, and then licked his lips. "I felt like I was on top of the world. A man with a good paying job, and a family that looked straight out of one of those reality TV shows."
"Not the Kardashians, I hope," the monster snorted.
The ghost wasn't humored, "Who?"
"Never mind."
The ghost shrugged and continued his story: "Anyway, picture perfect on the outside, but on the inside? Chaos. Hell. And anger. A lot of it." His eyes filled with sorrow, regret. The monster felt the urge to put his hand on the man's shoulder, but stopped himself. Physical contact with a ghost was not a good idea, even for a creature like him… Could a ghost even be touched? He put the thought aside and kept listening.
"I wasn't good to my wife. In the beginning, there was love. Then I… I did her dirty. Always coming home late, drunk more often than not. But the nail in the coffin was drugs. My greed sent me down the path of drug dealing. She did not want that shit around her, or our daughter," the ghost's voice cracked again. Tears welled in his eyes. "We fought. I did… terrible things to her before that. Hid her car keys from her so she couldn't leave me was one of them. When drugs entered the picture, it only got worse. But, deep down, I agreed with her. I didn't want our daughter exposed to that."
"But by that point, man, it was too late. Greed had consumed me. When I was a kid, having more money than I knew what to do with was a dream. That dream had become a reality." He dabbed his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve, "It effected everything, including my job. I got into an argument with someone I should have listened to, believing I was right and they were wrong and nothing they could do would bring about any good. My blindness, and complacency, got me fired. I could have bowed out, turned my life around, instead I just… took all that anger I had, and took it home. My wife suffered.
"The cops were called to the house on numerous occasions. My silver tongue got them to back off every time. She never pressed charges either." He paused when he was struck with another fit of coughing, then let out a shaky breath and collected himself.
"That's… I'm sorry," the monster said in a gentle tone. Humans becoming consumed by greed was nothing new to him. Even the most wholesome individual had the potential for it, in some capacity. "Was your wife the one who shot you?"
The ghost shook his head, "No. I don't… know exactly who it was. My daughter and I were stepping off the bus one day, and then someone came up, grabbed her. I tried to fight back, but my own gun slipped from my hand. Next thing I know, I heard gunshots. The world went dark, and then I found myself here. As a ghost."
He tried to imagine it, a man spending the day with his daughter only to have her ripped from him. It wasn't pretty. But it was a reality so many were faced with.
"Didn't anyone try to help?" The monster straightened his posture, eyes hard, "Someone must have seen…"
"I'm sure someone did," the ghost's voice cracked. He swallowed and sighed, "It was my fault, you know? She got hurt because of me. Because I got into drugs… Pissed off the wrong people."
"I'm sorry. I watched drugs tear apart someone I loved, so I'm familiar with how bad things can get." He broke away from the ghost's gaze, stared at the ground. People could turn themselves around from greed if they had the desire.
"Yeah, it… Are you up for sharing your story?"
The monster looked back up at the ghost, "Eh, sure. I pried into your life, I can tell you a little about me and why I'm here at this bus stop." Conversing with a human, dead or alive, was not something he did every day. The bus was not here yet. Why not keep the conversation going to pass the time? "We monsters under the bed… We're not supposed to get attached to humans. When we find a child's bed to crawl under, we only hide there, scaring them, until they either chase us away or reach a certain age."
"And what about the adults that are afraid of the monster under their bed?"
"That doesn't happen too often, and when it does it's because the monster that found them is… particularly malicious. Or they just did something to piss that monster off. It varies, honestly. The reasons we do things." Like the reason he had stayed with Jeremy… Sometimes, he wondered, really wondered. And he regretted it.
Regret was something he and the ghost seemed to share.
"Are you malicious?" The ghost asked.
The monster shrugged, "Don't think so. I don't hate humans… I'm usually pretty indifferent. Human affairs aren't any of my concern. But…"
"But?"
"I won't deny it. I've come across a good many humans I took great pleasure in terrifying." He chuckled, thinking of the scars he had left them. "Jeremy was different. He wasn't afraid of me, actually spoke to me. I don't have the proper words for it –his family sucked. They were always yelling at him. I guess you could say I was his 'escape' from that. He stayed up a late most nights, even when I told him to sleep."
The ghost quietly listened as intently to his story as he had to his. A broken home. One a witness, the other a contributor.
If it was a simple as being a lonely child's friend, he would not be here at this bus stop.
"We were good friends," he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a picture Jeremy had taken. It was of a young boy grinning from ear to ear, sitting next to a strange shape the camera had not picked up well, on a bed that had an old Star Wars blanket. A memento of better times. "Sometimes, I wish I could have done more but we monsters aren't allowed to interfere with a child's home life. It isn't our place." He said, handing the photo out for the ghost to get a better look at.
"I never knew monsters had rules," the ghost mused, reaching out to the picture with mild curiosity. His fingers went right through, as if nothing was there. Brow furrowed, he frowned. It was hard to say for certain, but it looked like he wished he could hold something again. "The two of you look happy. I'd say I miss happiness, but, to be honest, I'm not sure how long it has been since I was truly happy. Even when I had everything."
"He was the one who taught me happiness. Until now, I've never experienced such an emotion in all my years."
"You must be older than you look."
The monster snorted, "Can't the same be said about you?"
"Touché."
After taking one last look at the photo, the monster pocketed it and sighed, "That picture is twenty years old." He wasn't sure if he missed happiness himself. It was a good feeling, sure, but it had slipped away in an instant. Because he had been foolish. Sentimental. Caring. However, what he did miss was the sense of camaraderie. A little friendship went a long way. Now that it was gone, he had come to realize what loneliness felt like.
"It's a nice memento, but I had a reason for taking it. I couldn't let him keep anything that reminded him of me. This hoodie, and my watch were among those items." He grinned and pulled up his sleeve to show off his watch.
The ghost hummed, "I see. But… why stay with someone for twenty years, if you have to move on?"
"The simple answer? Love."
"A monster loving a human… Interesting."
"Our love didn't really, what's the word? 'Blossom'? Until he was in his teens. We were just close friends until then. I… had this sense in me. I couldn't leave him." His eyes went downcast, his hands balled into fists, "I was so happy when his father passed, and his mother remarried to someone who was good for his family. He seemed to be doing better. Got through school alright. But then… he started hanging with a bad crowd. One of them even got arrested for robbing a convenience store." Thankfully, Jeremy had not been involved with that nonsense. Not that he could have stopped him. It would have counted as interfering.
"And those people were the ones who got Jeremy into drugs. It was just weed at first. Then alcohol. Then heroine… and god knows what else. I tried talking to him, but he'd only yell at me. It was his life, he could do what he wanted. I… stuck around because he did stop hanging with them. He was getting better. We were talking like we used to. Then, love. We confessed to each other then and there."
"And let me guess," the ghost spoke up. "He was better for a while, then was dragged back into it?"
"Yeah. He found a girlfriend, and then he got bad again. And I watched the two yell at each other. And beat each other. I saw my ticket out when the police were called the other night."
"That's rough."
The monster nodded, "Yeah. But it wasn't like I could do anything. Not allowed to interfere, remember?"
"Surely you could have made an exception for an adult?"
"Nope… I'm already in enough trouble as is for getting attached," he shivered, thinking what might happen if he were to be dragged before the elders. Whatever punishment would await him would be made more severe if he had not adhered to rule of not interfering.
Perhaps he was running from them more than he was trying to forget Jeremy. To move on. Come what may.
"The bus should arrive soon," the ghost looked off to the direction it would come. "This has been a nice chat. I'm glad I had someone to share with."
The monster flashed a smile, "I'm happy I could entertain."
"I do want to say one thing before we part ways: There are days I sit here, hoping, wondering if I'll see my daughter again. I fear she may either be dead, or… or worse."
"Is that why you can't move on? You want to see your daughter?"
"It is. I was a bad person, but she did not deserve… that."
The monster fell silent, shivered again. This time from the chill brought on by the rain –where was that damn bus? He tried to hide his eagerness toward getting out of this weather, not wanting to come off rude, by keeping his expression neutral. The tension in his body, hopefully, could be perceived as being cold rather than impatient or wanting to get away.
In all his life, he never thought about what humans did and did not deserve. He avoided human news, only focused on his own 'purpose'. If one could call it that. Something that kept some kind of natural balance, kept humans on their toes and aware that not everything in their world was as it seemed.
This man was not as deplorable as some of the other humans he has encountered. Perhaps that was why he could say he deserved some kind of closure.
"I don't normally do this…" the monster said, a little hesitant, "If you don't mind me asking, what's your daughter's name?"
"Bridget," the ghost answered, "Bridget Hawley."
"Hawley… I'll keep that in mind. I… I can't make any promises, but if I hear anything about someone named Bridget Hawley, I'll return here and let you know."
The ghost stared at him in disbelief, eyes welling with tears again. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, nodded, "Yes! Yes. That would be wonderful. Only, I don't know how old she'd be by now. Close to forty, maybe? If she is even still alive." He then added, "Wait, what about your rule of not interfering?"
"You aren't human anymore. I think it should be okay."
"Oh, you… Jesus, I would hug you if I could!"
The monster held his hand up, "That's quite alright. Never been one for hugs anyway."
"Fair enough," the ghost chuckled.
As their conversation ended, the bus could be seen coming down the road. It had gotten caught up by a red light.
Finally. He could get out of this damn rain… Hopefully the driver would take his soggy money.
"I guess this is good-bye then," the monster offered one last smile, "Like I said, no promises. But… maybe I'll be able to find something out."
"Thank you again."
Moments later, the monster stepped onto the bus, handed the driver –who gave him a look—his money and found a seat in the back. He looked out to the city, watching the scenery pass.
With any luck, he'd dodge the elders and slip under the bed of an unsuspecting child before the night was over. Put this all behind him. Go back to being the transient creature he has always been.
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