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FFM Day 7 - Not Your Own

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“Yes,” Herc snapped in response, ignoring the blink of surprise from the shop assistant, who hurriedly began scanning his meagre shopping,

“W-would you like a bag-for-life for a penny?” He timidly asked, though the look he got in response from the imposing, beardy stranger had him shrinking down even further into his almost-too-big uniform from behind his counter. Herc gritted his teeth as the boy struggled to scan all of the items as fast as he could, making more mistakes than there were items. Before he’d even stated the total, Herc dropped the money in front of him, snatched up his bags and stomped out of the shop, narrowly missing, in the process, almost ending the career of a promising Pomeranian show dog.

Herc groaned to himself as he walked back towards the pier, his joints hurt in the cold and head hurt from the over-sensitivity of others. His boat was even older than he was, though had been with him throughout his now defunct career; it rolled and pitched as he clambered aboard, apparently mourning the complex simplicity of the open water and the thrill of the hunt. Herc slammed shut his door and dropped the shopping bags, his eyes glancing over to his message board normally listing chores, finding it changed.

Are you a bit of a grouch? Sure everybody hates you? Well, have no fear, the answer is near! In a single consultation you could be exactly who other’s want! No mess, no fuss and absolutely NO personal development required.

Whatever personality traits you want, we have them! For a full list, chant Ghost-Of-Greatness three times and our consultant will appear!

“What!? The ‘Ghost of Greatness’?” Herc roared, before pushing himself to his feet and leaning out of his window, “Is this Ghost-of-Greatness the best you little shits can come up with?” The neighbourhood kids were fond of terrorising him for his retirement plan, what kind of a pirate could retire? They used to mock, convinced he couldn’t possibly have been the Demon Pirate Hercules. “I’ll shove that ghost-of-greatness bull right back up their asses,” He grumbled as he turned around, nearly jumping out of his skin as he saw the pale, almost translucent figure of a man sat on the bench across from him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Herc demanded,

“I see my marketing team did an excellent job finding you,” The figure smiled smugly, “You really have some undesirable traits, what new ones would you like? I can make you an optimist - that does wonders for making friends, I’ll tell you, or maybe you’d like a bit of extroversion?”

“Wh…what?” 

“You did read the advert didn’t you? I can give you a new personality, don’t you want one?”

“No.” Herc rumbled, already feeling the anger in chest ready to explode,

“Why not? You’re a retired pirate for god’s sake and you live on your old boat shouting at kids… you’re really satisfied with who you are?” The stranger spoke again as he rose to his feet and walked right through the fixes table that sat between them, the outlines of his feet barely visible through the wispiness of his presence, in fact, the only definitive things about him were his hands and face. He turned around to look back at Herc who was staring at him as if… well… he’d seen a ghost. “Oh come on, do we really need to waste time with this? You were the Demon Pirate, you must have killed tens of people—”

“Hundreds,”

“Hundreds of people, you haven’t seen a ghost before now? There are millions of us, most of them moaning about having nothing to do, lazy bastards,”

“No I haven’t.” The irate pirate stubbornly stated, rising to his feet, “Now you can get the fuck out of my—”

“Oh for goodness sake, I’m sick of how testy you all here, have a free sample, I’ll be back tomorrow,” The ghost suddenly appeared in front of him and slapped a suddenly solid hand onto his forehead and the Demon Pirate Hercules fell backwards inside his boat in a dead sleep.

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“G-good afternoon, Mr Hercules,” The shop manager greeted, though on this particular day, Herc could clearly hear the tremble in his voice,

“Afternoon, Mr Kattens, how’s business today?” Herc offered back, cheerfully. Though by the look on the manager’s face, he might as well have just told him that he intended to whip out an assault rifle and start massacring the patrons.

“Uh… uh… just fine…”

“Good, please apologise for me to the assistant I was a bit short with yesterday, I shouldn’t have been so rude,”

“Y-yes, I will,” Mr Kattens replied dumbly as Herc breezed passed him and down to the frozen desserts freezer, politely excused himself as he leant in front of another customer, paid for his pudding and left on the same cloud of goodwill he floated in on.

A cloud everyone in the shop assumed to be crack.

As soon as Herc set foot on the boat, his uncharacteristic mood dropped as suddenly as the feeling of relaxation does on a Monday morning. He stomped down the small set of steps and glared at the ghost who was lounging on his sofa-bench.

“You! What the hell did you do to me? I’ve been grinning like a moron all day!” He snapped,

“Over so soon, isn’t it? You could be like that more often, or maybe you’d rather be witty? Have you decided yet?”

“I like me, just the way I am,”

The ghost grinned and yanked back on a blanket covering a cold, emaciated corpse.

“What’s that doing on my sofa?”

“How else do you think I get the personalities?”

“I said—”

“Nonsense,” The wisp of a man tapped Herc’s forehead and felled him backwards onto the floor, this time, though, he was still conscious as the ghost crouched over him, “You’re horrible as you are.”