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youtu.be/_bR5qUdnSzE

'Cause I've done some things that I can't speak
And I tried to wash you away, but you just won't leave
So won't you take a breath and dive in deep?
'Cause I came here so you'd come for me
I'm begging you to keep on haunting
I'm begging you to keep on haunting me

youtu.be/iQFKgPBtYdc
You say that you're no good for me
'Cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve
And I swear I hate you when you leave
I like it anyway
My ghost
Where'd you go?
I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me
My ghost
Where'd you go?
What happened to the soul that you used to be
I'm searching for something that I can't reach

~~~
October 2022 Prompt
- Vampires! Witches! Werewolves! Oh my! It's everyone's favorite spooky season!! Celebrate frights, scares, and treats this month by showing off your scariest costumes, best spooks, and inventive pumpkin carvings this Hallow's Eve! Tricks and treats await!

~~~

The problem is that it’s not all gone.

It would be easier if it was.

The adults have told her that it’s not that strange, considering how badly she hit her head in the landslide. The adults tell her that losing chunks of herself after that is expected after head injuries, and things getting jumbled is okay. The adults tell her that it’s a miracle she’s alive at all.

Alex doesn’t feel like a miracle.

She feels… scattered. Like someone took bits of everything that makes her her, and tossed them around without a bit of care for what they were doing. Like glass broken on the beach, with all the shards carried off by the tide, and Olympus only knows if she’ll ever find them, while she desperately throws the sand around, trying to find the pieces of herself.

Some of the bits are clear, and large, and hard to miss, like speaking or swimming or the smell of salt. Things that she’s not sure she could be herself, and not have. But others she can only find by a brief sparkle that catches her eye at just the right angle, and others… well, others she worried are long gone, carried out to sea and never to be found, no matter how long and how hard she searches.

Like the cats she thinks she can see, sometimes. When things are quiet, or when the smell of salt and wet stone is especially strong, and everything is just so clear. She knows the gray and black one must be Tempest, surely, but the rest- who are they? She doesn’t know a cat that shade of brown, and she can’t put a name to the face- she can’t even remember all of the face, like she’s seeing them through a snowstorm. All the details are gone, so are they even real? Did they ever actually exist?

Is it even a memory, or is she just- confused?

She has a lot of weird dreams and flashes, and some of them, she’s sure, can’t be true- what sea was ever red while the waves curled like leaping fish? What dragon ever lived in a tree, and hissed at her as she walked past? She knows these things can’t be real, but what actually happened, and what’s just bleeding over into other things until she can’t tell up from down?

Sometimes, she remembers a boy. Or at least, she thinks she does. A boy that’s almost her size, that bounces and cries and that can’t be at the same time, right?

She doesn’t know if he was ever real, and while she wants to believe he might have been, she can’t tell if that’s just because she wants to feel less crazy.

She can’t ever see his face, but she can hear his voice clear as a bell, and if she focuses hard enough to set off one of her ever-present migraines, she could almost get his color. Black and brown as a charred log washed up onto a beach, and even when he sounded close to tears or snapping in fury, she would fight an army to make the sad note in his voice go away.

Is it real? Did that person ever exist? If they did, who is he to her, and where did he go? What happened, that she’s here, not there?

On nights when her head throbs so hard that every breath of her siblings next to her, and every creak of a boards settling, sends a spike of pain through her skull, she wriggles free to tiptoe across cold marble. And when she glances at the dust motes that dance in the moonlight, she can’t help but wonder-

Did you ever exist, or are you just a ghost haunting me because you have nowhere else to go?

—-

He takes his time, every visit.

He doesn’t visit too much- it makes mom sad and tired when he does, he knows, even when she takes care not to say anything at all. He can hear her crying, when she thinks no one else is around, and it hurts him every time just the same as the last, so he tiptoes his way out, and takes the winding path you can’t see from the top of the cove.

Down, down, down the steep cliffside, still scarred with pockmarks and loose rocks where the slope had given way, through by now, grass and young trees had begun to root over the place where their family had been split apart.

Just to be spiteful, he ripped out a clump of grass on his way down, tossing it away and into the sea while the gulls called shrilly, and the spray beads on his whiskers to drip salt down into his mouth.

Salt runs in the blood, just like tears. Maybe that was why he kept coming- the blood they shared that lay buried under these rocks with the bones of the sister he’d loved, even when she’d driven him mad.

The days they’d shared on the seaside, the bickering and thrown shells and the shared fish while they took turns lisping around the sharp bones as fake tusks- the countless games of tag or catch-the-shell, the shared stories and evenings curled up together in the nest while mom whispered another story. The punches and tussles, shared grins and screaming matches and everything between.

And all of them were gone. Amphitrite was buried under the cliff where she’d slipped, and everything they’d ever shared was nothing at all but a memory he seemed to lose a little more of all the time, like sand slipping through his claws while the wind whisked it away, and left him with nothing at all.

Just like his usual spot at the base of the cliff- where the mud and stones still spread out in a scarred fan, piled and tumbled and toppled all together with nothing to show of the sister he’d loved. Not a whisker, or a claw, or so much as a har, no sign that she had ever existed outside of his mind.

Theseus adjusted the small rock by his feet, pushing it another half-inch to the right, then the left, until he decided it was in the perfect spot, exactly where he remembered it. He had to make sure it was always the same, everything one he came, like he could make everything perfect enough that he could step through this mirror of the cliff, into the past, and pull his sister back before she took the step that wouldn’t see another.

Before they lost her, and broke something that couldn’t ever be fixed while they chased her memory.

And what was a memory, he wondered, but a ghost that wouldn’t rest?

He wondered if she could feel the cold anymore- if she felt cold, pinned under all the rocks and mud where she’d fallen. She’d always been a ball of energy, leaping into life, where she wanted, like a minnow jumping from the water to sparkle in the sun. Like she was big enough, strong enough, brave enough to outrun or outsmart or just plain prove herself stronger than even death itself.

It seemed a cruel fate, then, to be stuck somewhere like that. All alone- it was the least he could do to some, sometimes. Even if-

“You’re not there.” He whispered, as he turned away, “Not as long as I remember you.”

What was a ghost but a memory that wouldn’t die?

1251 Words, Written by Nike
~~~
A collab w Quetzalcoatlkinga !!! THIS HAS ACTUALLY BEEN SITTING AROUND FOR AGES I FEEL AWFUL IT HASNT BEEN UPLOADED YET OMGGG But Nike did the sketch and amazing short story while I finished up the rendering!!! I THINK NIKE ALSO CAME UP W THE GENIUS IDEA TOO...

Alekos belongs to Quetzalcoatlkinga
And Theseus belongs to littleharmonies (me)

~~~

EP to Theseus and Alekos

Description

youtu.be/_bR5qUdnSzE

'Cause I've done some things that I can't speak
And I tried to wash you away, but you just won't leave
So won't you take a breath and dive in deep?
'Cause I came here so you'd come for me
I'm begging you to keep on haunting
I'm begging you to keep on haunting me

youtu.be/iQFKgPBtYdc
You say that you're no good for me
'Cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve
And I swear I hate you when you leave
I like it anyway
My ghost
Where'd you go?
I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me
My ghost
Where'd you go?
What happened to the soul that you used to be
I'm searching for something that I can't reach

~~~
October 2022 Prompt
- Vampires! Witches! Werewolves! Oh my! It's everyone's favorite spooky season!! Celebrate frights, scares, and treats this month by showing off your scariest costumes, best spooks, and inventive pumpkin carvings this Hallow's Eve! Tricks and treats await!

~~~

The problem is that it’s not all gone.

It would be easier if it was.

The adults have told her that it’s not that strange, considering how badly she hit her head in the landslide. The adults tell her that losing chunks of herself after that is expected after head injuries, and things getting jumbled is okay. The adults tell her that it’s a miracle she’s alive at all.

Alex doesn’t feel like a miracle.

She feels… scattered. Like someone took bits of everything that makes her her, and tossed them around without a bit of care for what they were doing. Like glass broken on the beach, with all the shards carried off by the tide, and Olympus only knows if she’ll ever find them, while she desperately throws the sand around, trying to find the pieces of herself.

Some of the bits are clear, and large, and hard to miss, like speaking or swimming or the smell of salt. Things that she’s not sure she could be herself, and not have. But others she can only find by a brief sparkle that catches her eye at just the right angle, and others… well, others she worried are long gone, carried out to sea and never to be found, no matter how long and how hard she searches.

Like the cats she thinks she can see, sometimes. When things are quiet, or when the smell of salt and wet stone is especially strong, and everything is just so clear. She knows the gray and black one must be Tempest, surely, but the rest- who are they? She doesn’t know a cat that shade of brown, and she can’t put a name to the face- she can’t even remember all of the face, like she’s seeing them through a snowstorm. All the details are gone, so are they even real? Did they ever actually exist?

Is it even a memory, or is she just- confused?

She has a lot of weird dreams and flashes, and some of them, she’s sure, can’t be true- what sea was ever red while the waves curled like leaping fish? What dragon ever lived in a tree, and hissed at her as she walked past? She knows these things can’t be real, but what actually happened, and what’s just bleeding over into other things until she can’t tell up from down?

Sometimes, she remembers a boy. Or at least, she thinks she does. A boy that’s almost her size, that bounces and cries and that can’t be at the same time, right?

She doesn’t know if he was ever real, and while she wants to believe he might have been, she can’t tell if that’s just because she wants to feel less crazy.

She can’t ever see his face, but she can hear his voice clear as a bell, and if she focuses hard enough to set off one of her ever-present migraines, she could almost get his color. Black and brown as a charred log washed up onto a beach, and even when he sounded close to tears or snapping in fury, she would fight an army to make the sad note in his voice go away.

Is it real? Did that person ever exist? If they did, who is he to her, and where did he go? What happened, that she’s here, not there?

On nights when her head throbs so hard that every breath of her siblings next to her, and every creak of a boards settling, sends a spike of pain through her skull, she wriggles free to tiptoe across cold marble. And when she glances at the dust motes that dance in the moonlight, she can’t help but wonder-

Did you ever exist, or are you just a ghost haunting me because you have nowhere else to go?

—-

He takes his time, every visit.

He doesn’t visit too much- it makes mom sad and tired when he does, he knows, even when she takes care not to say anything at all. He can hear her crying, when she thinks no one else is around, and it hurts him every time just the same as the last, so he tiptoes his way out, and takes the winding path you can’t see from the top of the cove.

Down, down, down the steep cliffside, still scarred with pockmarks and loose rocks where the slope had given way, through by now, grass and young trees had begun to root over the place where their family had been split apart.

Just to be spiteful, he ripped out a clump of grass on his way down, tossing it away and into the sea while the gulls called shrilly, and the spray beads on his whiskers to drip salt down into his mouth.

Salt runs in the blood, just like tears. Maybe that was why he kept coming- the blood they shared that lay buried under these rocks with the bones of the sister he’d loved, even when she’d driven him mad.

The days they’d shared on the seaside, the bickering and thrown shells and the shared fish while they took turns lisping around the sharp bones as fake tusks- the countless games of tag or catch-the-shell, the shared stories and evenings curled up together in the nest while mom whispered another story. The punches and tussles, shared grins and screaming matches and everything between.

And all of them were gone. Amphitrite was buried under the cliff where she’d slipped, and everything they’d ever shared was nothing at all but a memory he seemed to lose a little more of all the time, like sand slipping through his claws while the wind whisked it away, and left him with nothing at all.

Just like his usual spot at the base of the cliff- where the mud and stones still spread out in a scarred fan, piled and tumbled and toppled all together with nothing to show of the sister he’d loved. Not a whisker, or a claw, or so much as a har, no sign that she had ever existed outside of his mind.

Theseus adjusted the small rock by his feet, pushing it another half-inch to the right, then the left, until he decided it was in the perfect spot, exactly where he remembered it. He had to make sure it was always the same, everything one he came, like he could make everything perfect enough that he could step through this mirror of the cliff, into the past, and pull his sister back before she took the step that wouldn’t see another.

Before they lost her, and broke something that couldn’t ever be fixed while they chased her memory.

And what was a memory, he wondered, but a ghost that wouldn’t rest?

He wondered if she could feel the cold anymore- if she felt cold, pinned under all the rocks and mud where she’d fallen. She’d always been a ball of energy, leaping into life, where she wanted, like a minnow jumping from the water to sparkle in the sun. Like she was big enough, strong enough, brave enough to outrun or outsmart or just plain prove herself stronger than even death itself.

It seemed a cruel fate, then, to be stuck somewhere like that. All alone- it was the least he could do to some, sometimes. Even if-

“You’re not there.” He whispered, as he turned away, “Not as long as I remember you.”

What was a ghost but a memory that wouldn’t die?

1251 Words, Written by Nike
~~~
A collab w Quetzalcoatlkinga !!! THIS HAS ACTUALLY BEEN SITTING AROUND FOR AGES I FEEL AWFUL IT HASNT BEEN UPLOADED YET OMGGG But Nike did the sketch and amazing short story while I finished up the rendering!!! I THINK NIKE ALSO CAME UP W THE GENIUS IDEA TOO...

Alekos belongs to Quetzalcoatlkinga
And Theseus belongs to littleharmonies (me)

~~~

EP to Theseus and Alekos