𝙋𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢᵐᵖ DISCONTINUED

GHOSTS V

♬ The Wisp Sings by Winter Aid ( Slowed works best )

Thirty-four | Ghosts V

ᴠɪᴇɴɴᴀ

Red splatters to the floor, seeping through the wood of the ground. Jschlatt heaves and gags, holding a hand to his throat as the red liquid falls from his lips, I try and pat his back to help, but he shakes me off. His face is contorted into one of pain, eyes wide and filling with tears as he chokes. I try and help, but he shakes me off once again. Jschlatt's body goes limp, falling onto his back as I try to figure out what is happening.

"Dammit.." Schlatt whispers, holding the back of his hand to his forehead, his horns snagging on the floor and his sweater. It smells like iron, I find myself staring at the floor where the red laid. A red I know well.

I've seen many shades of red in my life. Crimson flames igniting a house, rose red petals as they fall. Lovely red and orange engulfing the sky to form a sunset. Dark red of a cloak as it falls over my shoulders, red seeping through the windows of the early morning. I've seen red as pale as white, and I've seen red so dark it resembled the night, but nothing ever compared to the red of blood.

I've seen many colors and shades, many different variants of the same colors. Coral, burgundy, vermillion, scarlet, ruby, and blood red.

There is a reason they call it that after all.

There wasn't a shade that held so many meanings, so many memories from one single being. There wasn't a shade that could begin to describe everything in the world around us, not like this one could. I knew the color well, all of my friends knew that color well, it filled our dreams, painted our futures. We all knew that color well because it covered our hands, stung in our eyes, ran through our veins. The color brought some happiness, a means to an end, and it brought the rest pain, it brought suffering. Blood stained all of our hands, blood ran through our veins, blood covered every surface of this house, of my life- of all of our lives. There wasn't a color in the world that could compare to the beauty and the tragedy that was blood red, because the only way you could see it was to cause harm. Whether that be to oneself, or someone else.

And as I stare at the blood on the floor, realization hits harder than a sword.

A medical book I read a while back taught me a few things, how to stitch a wound close, how to cauterize a wound, CPR, all of that. It also taught me that coughing up blood can be caused by many things, trauma to the chest, bleeding gums, ulcers in the stomach bursting, but almost everything lead to a section about the victim dying. In that book it never said the victims lived. Ghosts can't die, not again anyways.

And as I stare at the blood on the floor, realization hits harder than a brick.

Jschlatt is human again, and he's dying again.

"Jschlatt.." My voice breaks midway through, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. Though my hands were covered in the red that poured out of the cluster, I didn't care. I couldn't care.

"I'm guessing you figured it out, huh kid?" He whispered, his hand covering the tears that fell down his cheeks. Blood poured down the side of his jaw, falling into the hair on his face and around his horns. The blood mixes with his tears, with the film that covered his body. I choke on a sob.

"No- I-I saved, I saved you- this-" I choke, sobs falling from my lips, my hands tangling in my hair. "This- this isn't fair!" My body folds, my chest pressed against my knees as I try and hold back the sobs, the tears that fall down my face. Jschlatt laughs, before coughing more, blood spitting into the air.