With a flick of a switch, the kettle slowly boils. The water bubbling with enthusiastic heat, shaking vigorously, almost as if it’s unable to take the strain. The light goes off, the process is only half complete, the water poured into a plain white cup. The tea bag mixing it’s taste. Milk is soon added, the journey complete. Though sugar is sometimes needed to satisfy.

Life is not so easy as making a cup of tea. Making life can seem simple, but living out that life, is another story. It’s harder when your different.

~**~

I can see things that most people can’t, and they can see me. Its been this way since as long as I can remember, well the day I met Jean, and her two adorable children, then it was Moira. Everyone and I thought I was schizophrenic, but that idea went out the window the day I re-met my parents. When they came back everything changed, I did some research on each ‘make believe’ person that I could see, only to have it spelt out in front of me as clear as day…they were all dead.

They told me that the reason they were still walking was because they had not been let go. But how can people let go something so close. People are selfish, including myself. Letting my parents go meant being alone, forever.

I can walk down the street, and I can see them, sometimes it’s hard to determine them from us. But I can tell, I’ve had practice. With them, unlike the living, they had an eerie glow about them, they don’t talk, just listen. They follow, and aren’t followed, they go unnoticed by the human eye, me being an exception.

Their hollow, because their ghosts.

~**~

!993- 13years ago, one minute to midnight.

“Happy 15th birthday, Ororo”

They celebrated, they cheered, the adults drank. Damn them! It was her fifteenth birthday and the main surprise was yet to come.

They came in, by the window, without making a sound. The kitchen light shone dimly as the bulb ran thin. The male participant of the two, scouted round the room, his eyes resting on a hard back book-Kiss the Girls, by James Patterson. It belonged to the young girl who lived in this house hold, so he took it for a romance novel. Though it was rather the opposite, a psychological thriller.

They continued up the countless stairs, until they reached the lone room in the attic. The door creaked as they stepped inside. Discarded clothes lay about on the bedroom floor. There on the bed, their target lay.


She felt them enter before she heard them, her body shivered from the feeling of the new sensations. Her hand firmly placed under her pillows, her eyes open wide with fear. She felt them close in, the hairs on her neck standing tall, as a chill flew through the air. She closed her eyes tightly, as she prayed for her safety.

“ARGHHHH” The knifes blade, sliced through the air, almost effortlessly. The point halting at the invaders chin. All she could make out was the outlines. Two. Not one. Two. Shit.

“Leave me be!” She whispered, they did not comply. Who were they? No one moved, they were all like statues, still lifeless.

Keeping her weapon in the air, her free hand travelled to the night stand, her night light. All those hours that she should have been sleeping, had been used for reading all thanks to this little accessory. At the moment she switched the it on, she regretted it. Her life had been fine, but now her imagination had gone too far.

The knife fell on to the mattress, as she lost all control of her movements, as fear kicked in. she silently screamed into her pillow, the sounds muffled as the escaped the pillows cover. Her body finally gave up, as she fell into a deep slumber, her ‘nightmare’ had only begun. And all through the night they waited.


The sun shone through the window as she woke the following morning. Believing what she had saw last night to be nothing but a dream, she opened her eyes, to be met by two pairs of dark brown. Shocked she fell backwards and tumbled onto the floor, the bed sheets going with her.

“W…who…What…I saw you…” The pair smiled. The smile that had always been welcome in her heart, but had soon faded along with lost memories. “I saw you die!”

The woman spoke, “We have been searching for you, a whole ten years.”

“I saw you DIE!” Tears fell down her cheeks as she repeated hollow words. All they could do was nod along and agree. She had watched them die, crushed among the debris of an old fallen building. “It’s impossible, your dead…your dead.” The tears did not stop. Warmth spread though her, the impossible touch of her mothers hand, was brought to her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“And we have missed you.”

“This is impossible,” she muttered. “my mind is projecting holographic images due to lack of sleep. that’s more believable, so that’s what it is, yeah, a hologram.” The man, her father, rolled his eyes.

“It’s a gifted Ororo, Have you not seen strange occurrences lately. There is only one word for us, daughter, we are-”

“No don’t say it.” She said placing her hands over her ears, shaking her head.

“Ghosts.”

One night a single man had a dream. He dreamt that he was walking along the beach with God, and across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonged to God and the other to him. When the last scene of his life flashed across the sky, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that at times along the path of life that there were only one set of footprints. He also noticed that this was during the hardest and very lowest parts of his life. It bothered him. He turned to God and asked, “God, you said that once I decided to follow you, you would walk with me all the way, but I noticed that during the most troubled times in my life that there are only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, in times that I needed you the most, you would leave me.”
God replied, “My precious, precious child, I love you and would never leave you during your times of trials and suffering. When you only see one set of footprints it was then that I carried you.”-Kevin Mayhew.

Not all people have such sweat dreams, and not everybody has help when they needed it, but sometimes faith can go along way.

~**~

2006-Present day

There she stood, the grass blades so Sharpe that it made her feet bleed. She walked closer to the end, each step feeling like an eternity. The ground started to ware away. She ran, tripping and falling, until she spiralled out of control. Darkness surrounding her, her arms above her head reaching searching, hoping something will slow her down.

Stop! Her feet hit what felt like fire. Hot sand burying her feet, as the wind rippled through her hair, her white satin gown following pursuit, showing her curves. Her eyes travelled forward, left and right, a full circle. It isn’t the first time…Shaking the thought away as her gaze stop abruptly on a full length glass mirror. Abandoned and ignored. Reasons made unclear, but not understood?

Her feet moved, before she had chance to realise, almost as if she were programmed she jolted forward. And, as if in the blink of an eye, she came face to face with the glass. Her wants, desires, reflected by a pair of dark eyes, that were not her own. A smile that was shown in her darkest nightmares, given to her by her demons. She was her own demon, her rage caged up inside.

A silent piercing scream, one that would have made dogs barked, echoed from the blackness. She fell on her knees, covering her ears, her eyes closed tightly. Her voice in itself was lost to her now. Shaking her head side to side, the scream stopped, with no trace of ever existing. She was still standing, had she even been in pain, she couldn’t remember. Memories did not mean a thing here, they just were.

She stared into her own eyes, unrecognisable. It wasn’t what she wanted to see, but when had it been. Her reflection, her twin, smiled lopsidedly, pure hate rested here. Did she hate herself so much though? But is was not just her reflection, no, the twin in the glass was the puppeteer, and Ororo the puppet.
In one swift movement the pair both drew a samurai sword, placing it in front of her feeling the cool blade as her finger ran along the blade. She and her reflection nodded in sync, and one after the other, the blade cut through the satin gown and into the flesh. Bleed.


She rose from her pillow, in one quick fluid motion, breathing heavily, she ran a hand through her hair to find it dampened by perspiration, her bed sheets clinging to her bare skin. There were no words that could be spoken except for…“Holy shit!!”

Her morning had begun.

She removed herself from the bed and slowly moved her way around the mountains of highly stack card board boxes. Moving house was always a chore, especially once you leave all the old and unwanted things behind, like, your parents…those old memories, that will always had a place in the heart. Entering the bathroom, she pulled out a towel and placed it on the rack, as she entered the steaming water of the shower, sliding the transparent door closed, to stop any escaping water. The soap bubbled as she covered and cleaned her skin. The suds falling off her body, with the rain like water droplet.

Suddenly feeling that she was not the only person in the room, she turned and looked through the condensing steam on the showers glass box. Closely looking, she noticed a handprint on the surface, she took in a deep breath, and placed her hand on the print. Different sizes. Wider. More muscular. Not thin, or delicate. Male. Damn.

“Great, another supernatural being, just what I need. Coming here meant getting away from you things,” she muttered as she pulled out the towel and wrapped it around her gently. “I really don’t need some perverted ghost…FUCK!” She said as she jumped back from the mirror, two faces instead of one. She put her hand through the glass.

“I really don’t need this, so if you could please leave, that’ll be just peachy.” Her voice was loud, like actors, taken from the lungs so not to sound like shouting, or whatever. She got dressed, old warn out jeans, and a baby blue yoga top. Snug.

The Phone rang, but instead of the usual ringing sound, she had the ‘Chipmunks’ theme tune, it made her laugh every time.

“It is I, master of the universe, how may I be of service?” She said as she picked up the receiver, she always answered the phone with something ridicules, gave people that she was a real nutcase, which she was, of course.

“Hello I, it is me. Just checking in, how’s it all going?” Good answer.

“Urgh, just peachy, I still haven’t unpacked yet though, could use with some strong helping hands. Get it done and over with, y’know?” Meaning, come over, I’m lonely, could do with a good time, even if it included sex.

“Yeah, well I’m busy myself. How ‘bout tomorrow?” Meaning, yeah just sitting in front of the T.V. all day, I’ll blow you off again tomorrow.

“Please, Forge, I’m really bored, lonely, and I need help with making my bed, or unmaking it.”-Get your ass over hear, before I kick it, I need sex.

“Maybe I’ll pop down later, give you a hand, only if you really do need one, and your not bluffing, etcetera.”-How about a quickie, then I’ll watch T.V. at yours.

“That sounds good. I can tell you about my dream then…(click)…Forge…you there, hello…Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” She rolled her eyes, grinning. ‘He’ll come down, and you know it girl, uh-huh, gives me enough time to go to the store. Condoms…a lot of condoms.’

Looking around her penthouse apartment, she sighed. It was better than her old place, she was closer to her adoptive parents, or fathers. Eric and Charles. Living with a homosexual couple really changes something’s for a kid, definitely. The image of the two having sex then came to her mind, she immediately shook the thoughts away.

“Sick, gross, disgusting…”

She continued to find words that described, them and ‘it’, until she reached the outdoors, and hopped onto the bus, taking a seat near the back. She looked at the man sat opposite her he had a sketch book in hand and pencil, he looked familiar. Oh well.

The bus stopped violently in the street, she frowned. “What the…?” she looked at her feet, finding a small pad knocking against her legs. Picking it up she flipped a couple of pages. Drawings. She found the most recent one. Her. She looked at the spot the man had been sat in before, only to find it empty.

She got off the bus in order to stop him before he walked too far out of range, but she saw no one, the street was also empty. Was it just her, or had the whole world gone crazy? Had he been dead or alive? A million questions ran through her mind at that moment, when she went to get back on the bus, it had already moved on.

“Fuck this, and the store!” She muttered as she walked the so many blocks back to her apartment, where she spent the rest of the day. To her disappointment, Forge did not come.

“Bastard!”

Lying, robed in snowy white, that loosely flew to left and right, the leaves upon her falling light, thro’ the noises of the night, she floated down to Camelot: and as the boat-head wound along, the willowy hills ad fields among, they heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, a mournful, holy, chanted loudly, chanted lowly, till her blood was frozen slowly, and he r eyes were darken’d wholly, turn’d to tower’d Camelot; for ere she reached upon the tide, the first house by the water-side, singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, by garden-wall and gallery, a gleaming shape she floated by, dead-pale between the houses high, silent into Camelot. out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, and around the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near, died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear, all the Knights at Camelot; but Lancelot mused a little space he said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."-Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

No one can ever find the easy way out, and live happily ever after, suicide and wronging leaves you rootless for an eternity.

~**~

It was on the verge of rain in the land of Munroe, as she made her way home from her voluntary service at the soup kitchens. If she hadn’t been arrested all those months ago, she probably wouldn’t have been here. Community service, Great. Not that she minded of course, she wanted to help people, she just couldn’t get her lazy ass of the couch.

It hadn’t really been her doing, “I mean it had been me, I can understand you saying so, it just wasn’t me, you know what I’m trying to say, you see, it…wasn’t…me...oh forget it.” Or so she put it. No one really understood what she meant, except maybe…Jean. The girl had come out of nowhere, in one heck of a bad mood, and melded into Ororo’s body, so she could pick up objects, and smash a few windows, and to have someone framed. Hadn’t she gone yet? Her widowed husband really needed to get a life.

Fumbling through her bag, she pulled out the apartment building key, and unlocked the main doors. Her fingers gently worked the alarm system, putting in her PIN, and soon after making her way to the stairs.

“Hey Sugah, you been somewhere?” Her southern accented neighbour, and long time friend Anna-Marie asked, as they crossed on the stairs. Bad luck, baby doll.

“Hey you going somewhere. I mean look at you, your all dressed up.” Ororo answered running her fingers through the material of Anna’s dress. “You got a manicure and everything.”

“Yep, got me a date.” She squealed.

“No, never, you a date…” Ororo said sarcastically, her mouth open. For humour se brought up one of her thumps to push the bottom jaw, creating a clang of the teeth.

“Uh-huh. With no other than Remy Lebeau. Who Ah might add is scrumptious. Ah could eat him.”

“Mmmm I know what you mean,” They stood there in thought for a moment, until Ororo snapped her fingers “Better not keep him waiting.” Anna nodded, a nervous smile on her face.

“I thought you were supposed to keep them waiting?”

“Yeah, when they purpose.”

“Yes please.” Anna waved over her shoulder and bolted her way down the stairs, as Ororo found her apartment door.

Upon getting inside, she pressed her back to it and slumped slightly, taking in a deep breath. ‘A nice warm bath would be good with bubbles, and don’t forget the scented candles.’ she stamped her feet like a child and sulked, “Why can’t I have a date with Remy Lebeau?” She shouted, loud enough to scare the birds from their perch on the window sill.

“Hello!” She jumped at the intrusion. Male voice, deep, ‘I recognise that voice’.

“Forge!! What the hell are you doing here!” She bellowed, at the top of her lungs. Yeah she was pissed off.

“I said I’d come down, and I came down, what the problem?”

“The problem is that I asked you to come down last week to help with all the boxes.” She smiled sweetly, “But as you can see,” She swiped her hand around the room, “I’ve already done that.”

“Hey look I’m sorry. How about to I take you out tonight?” Was he sorry? He sounded sorry, but he was a good liar. ‘Hey Forge how’s that Rayne, no Raven?’

“Can’t busy, washing my hair. Oh and it’s a school night, so you’ll be working tomorrow.” Ha, eat me you prick. ‘I can be as persuasive as the next person.’

“I’ll take you out to dinner tomorrow then.” ‘Damn!’

“Can’t, working.” ‘My hand will be giving me more attention than you this week, asshole.’

“Blow it off!” He was frowning, and pouting. ‘Ah, so Raven didn’t give him any, English teachers!’

“Naw, she’d rather blow you off bub!” Ororo smiled, company. At least someone was on the same page as her.

“Yeah, tell me about it, ha” She stood there laughing to herself, why? He had no idea. Great, she was talking to herself again, not a good sign.

“Tell you about what,” She stared at him with that ‘what are you talking about’ face, “Never mind.”

“Is this guy of yers crazy or just oblivious?” The voice broke through again, Ororo nodded her head, and looked at Forge deeply, as if searching his soul. She raised both eyebrows, and turned around. She jumped, some random, but hot guy was in her apartment and it wasn’t Forge. Oh god.

“Ororo, is everything okay?” ‘He’s oblivious, of course everything’s not okay, there’s a man here and your just standing there…wait…your just standing there.’

“Could you leave, please.” She asked or more over told the stranger, the ghost, or more profound term supernatural being.

“I was just going to!” She snapped her head around to be met by a breeze and a blur.

“No Forge not you, him, Forge…Come back, I didn’t mean the hand thing honest!” She said catching the door in one hand and shouting after him, “Fine don’t listen to me…Fuck you too!”

He waited for her as she came back into the apartment. He watched her as she steadily came back into the room. He rubbed his hands together and said, “So what’s the deal with yer hand?” She groaned at him in response, “Fair enough.”

“Who the heck are you?” She asked as nicely as possible, “And what the hell are you doing in my house?”

“First things first, it was my house before ya came, and two who I am is none of yer business.” She nodded in agreement, or so he thought. ‘Blue eyes-odd, white hair-very odd, cinnamon or mocha coloured skin-even weirder. Beautiful and perfect all the same. that’s what I don’t like, too innocent, the young ones always are.’

She smiled, “Your Logan Howlett.” ‘How the fuck did she know that’ “You’re here for your sketch book right?” He nodded. “There good, your good. To be honest, I stole some of the ideas. I’m an artist you see.”

Ororo made her way over to the next room, he followed. The room had changed dramatically from when he last saw it. Half finished canvases’ were dotted around the room, different coloured paint lay everywhere in the appropriate jars. Near the large window stood an easel light shone on it, reminding him of how Mariko left. ‘The dead can die twice’ he thought.

Ororo bent to her knees and opened the bottom draw of the wooden dresser, that stood alone, but not abandoned. She dug her hand in the pile of loose papers, and sifted some of the old albums. Photos were great when it came to painting people, you could recapture it, of how you felt in that frozen memory. Once her hand felt an object of a distant texture, she carefully tugged, pulling the book from it’s security.

“Here we go.” She stood, and to make it more dramatic she blew air over it to remove the ‘dust’, before handing it over. He snatched it from her hand and opened it, checking everything was okay. He smiled.

“I’m Ororo by the way.” She said holding out her hand, he looked at it but he didn’t take it, formal introductions weren’t his thing. Besides he knew who she was.

“Yeah I know. I do live here, so I’ve seen ya ‘round.”

“How come I haven’t seen you?”

“I keep my self contained in the walls. It’s an old parlour trick.” His smile widened, as his eyes drifted down her form. She shuddered the good kind.

“What? Why are you looking at me? It‘s unnerving.”

“If were to live together, I think you can tell me ‘bout ‘the hand thing’.”

She laughed, and to him, it was the nicest laugh he’d heard in years. It was at that moment that Mariko‘s words echoed in his mind, ‘Trust can be a good thing, Logan, remember that. I love you.’

‘Love can go along way to Mariko, I’ve remembered that too.’