I was bored and decided to write a Ghost Story, I call it the "Companion."

Companion

            She watched as he fumbled to open his new apartment door. He dropped his keys onto the marble hallway floor.  He swears as he bends down to pick them up, but it takes him two tries to finally open the door. She knew he must be tired, after all he had been at his studio for many hours. The neighbors thought he was the nice, handsome, friendly neighbor. She wondered if people ever did look at him strangely, but she had never noticed either.

            She followed him through the door as he proceeded to drop everything onto the floor, clothes included. There wasn’t anything new to see, that she hadn’t already seen. She watched the dying sunset; it reminded her of how she had once loved them. The once bright sun faded away completely, extinguished in a single moment. She heard him exiting the shower, she went to watch him. He shivered as she entered through the bathroom, quickly drying himself faster.

            He gawks at his own reflection in the mirror, drying his hair. He flexes his arm, enjoying the sight of his muscles and body. He gives a little turn and whistles at himself, after he finishes priming himself. He continues whistling as he strides to the silver fridge. He pours himself a glass of orange juice, savoring the acid taste.

            He trots over to the mural on the wall. He gazes adorningly at the young women in the picture. The young woman has a radiant smile on her face, the kind that makes people smile back. He touches the frame, as if he could reach through time and touch her as well.

            She watches him, as he touches the image of what was once her. She leaves him to contemplation and his yearning stare. She instead read the newspaper that is framed next to it. The date reads February 14^th, 2012, that was six months ago. She read the headlines, “Rebecca Gió, 23 year old, found Decapitated! Killer at Large!” She continued skimming down the newspaper and read words like, “Beautiful. Leaves behind a family. Smart. Robert Stone, fiancé is devastated. So young.” The list is endless.

            She hears him sniffling. She knew that he must have already begun the water works. She glanced at him wondering if today, the performance was going to be the same or maybe he might even through in something new. She silently mouths the rehearsed words he is going to say.

            He weeps in front of the image of his fiancé. His shoulder’s shaking from the force of his sobs. He kisses her picture, leaving tears dripping down her face. He whispers that he misses her, and she is still his inspiration. That now more than ever she is his inspiration.

            He finally stops weeping, when his voice goes hoarse. He walks to his bedroom and sits on his bed. As he grabs a tissue off the bedside and blows his nose quite loudly. He takes a drink from the water bottle placed on his bedside. He opens his pill box and takes out the two newest prescribed sleeping pills. He swallows the two blue pills and almost chokes on them. He coughs once or twice and then settles himself in the bed. He twists and turns for a couple of minutes, but sleep finally triumphs over him.

            She drew closer to him like a moth to a lantern, listening intently to him breath. She watched in fascination as his chest rises and falls to a familiar beat. She watched as his breath’s finally slowed down, the signal of a deep sleep. She watched how peacefully he rested, envious of his peace.

She remembers or what she thinks she remembers, of what it was like to be warm. She draws closer in an attempt to feel his human warmth. Her hands are cold as the rest of her.

Just to feel what it is like to feel warm again, she puts her hands around his neck. He begins to moan in his sleep, tossing and turning trying to shake off the feeling of her cold hands. She doesn’t want to let go, this is the only way, she ever remembers warmth­—what it was like before. She reluctantly lets go. She watches as he gasps for breath like a dying man’s desperate last breaths.

He wakes up, gasping for breath. He shivers with adrenaline from the nightmares, attempting to dry his forehead on his sweaty arm. His nightmares continue even with the new sleeping pills. He hasn’t been able to sleep well, since that day. His lips transform into a smile at the memory. He tries to grab the glass of water that on his bedside, the smooth cup slips through his fingers, onto the hungry floor, tearing the cup into pieces. The glass lays scattered against the floor like a mad scientist’s lab of body parts.

He simply stares at the broken glass lying on the floor. He bends down and picks a shard up. The shard quickly digs into his palm, as he drops it back onto the floor.  Thick red drops spring forth from his skin. He smiles as the red liquid spreads across his palm. He tentatively licks his bloodied palm, as if tasting aged wine. He greedily begins to suck at his wound, until blood ceases to drip forth from the cut.

She merely glanced at him sucking the blood up, common occurrences nowadays. She is more fascinated with the ruby shard amidst a sea of diamonds. She twisted and turned her head, noting that with each movement, the shards seem to be dancing. The shards are perfect; each one absorbs and glows from the moonlight entering through the open window.

She became distracted as shadows began to move. She looked at him as he hopped over the shards and walks over to his moonlit desk. He quickly turned on his desk lamp, and sat in his chair. She knew that he would write once again, about his inspiration, her.

As he sits at the table, he attempts to remember everything about the glorious nightmare. The eerie lyrics from his mind emerge onto the page. He writes, he scribbles, not caring if the words are legible. The clock moves steadily according to the witching hour time paradox. He finally, drops his pen in exhaustion and grim satisfaction. He hungrily reads his newest lyrics.

“Tonight I cannot seem to find my way home / I wander all alone through the rain / I am lost on my way home / Tonight I am being crawling down a rabbit hole.

 Nobody seems to know my name or hear my cries / in this garden of dreams  / May my smile follow you forever/ May it never leave you alone / Don’t fall asleep / It’s a window into your soul/ dreams / eat your insides out / Only stopping when they to spew your bare bones, / Nonetheless / Come with me / it must be this way / enter my kingdom of nightmares and shadows, (chorus).

You called it art, the way you wrenched my heart out of my chest / Take away my mind that I may forget / Sink your teeth into my skin / Tear me apart / Leave me on red painted snow.

Chorus.

Mouth to mine you breathed me in / Ate my glory and my sin / You’re drowning inside my skin / The sweetest venom you could take / Drink until you dream life away / Nightmares your only companions in the end.

Chorus.”

He stares at the lyrics with a maddening grin. It seems his work was becoming more genius due to that one night’s work. The nightmares were merely a reaction from his conscience, not that he had ever listened to it. Instead he basks in the nightmares inspiring darkness. He sigh’s in contentment. He quickly tramples to his bed, jumping over the shards and into bed. This time without any sleeping pills, he falls dead asleep.

She watched his sleeping figure for a time. She shifted her gaze to the waning moon and knew that tomorrow night and for many more nights the cycle would repeat itself all over again. She knew it was only a matter of time, before he would seek another inspiration. She knew that she had only been the first of many. However, perhaps then she wouldn’t be so lonely.