The Ghost Of Paris

prolouge : Five Stages of grief ( edited)

        Hovering over the fallen debris, Danny extended his trembling hand, the falling ash fluttering delicately onto his palm like mournful snowflakes. Ash descended from the sky like snow in winter, mingling with shattered wood and debris that littered the desolate landscape. A long wooden panel crashed beside him with a deafening roar, startling him to the core of his being. His eyes darted around the scene, his surroundings blurred by the gaping crater that imprisoned him, his mind ensnared in a fog of confusion.

   His body seemed to betray him, freezing in place as a buzzing numbness enveloped him, rendering his skin numb to touch. His gaze turned distant and hollow, his hand trembling as the ash dissipated into the bleak sky, his thoughts lost in a void of overwhelming anguish and despair. A phantom grip seemed to clench his heart, wrenching it from his chest until it bled, the pain seeping through his being like a festering wound.

   A throbbing ache consumed his body, engulfing him in a sudden, searing agony that made him yearn to surrender, to retreat into the solace of slumber, praying that he would awaken to find it a cruel dream. His eyes felt heavy as lead, his soul aching to seek refuge beneath the stairs, to bask in the echoes of Sam's laughter, to embrace the familiarity of his parents' ghostly tales, and to hear his sister's unspoken wish for normalcy.

   Raising his tear-streaked gaze from his huddled form, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, he noticed a somber crowd beginning to gather around the gaping crater of earth before him.

   "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," his voice cracked, a fragile sob escaping his quivering lips.

   His body felt as though it bore the weight of the world, buckling beneath the burden as he collapsed to the unforgiving ground. A primal cry erupted from his lips, followed by gut-wrenching sobs that wracked his frame until he succumbed to the crushing weight of despair. The onlookers observed in silent anguish and sorrow, yet none dared to breach the barrier of his solitude to offer solace to the broken youth.

   Cradled in a fetal position on the cold ground, he cocooned himself within his own embrace, seeking solace in the shelter of his knees drawn close to his chest as he closed his eyes in silent resignation.

   Drifting into unconsciousness, he dreamt of soaring amongst the billowing clouds, the gentle caress of chillness soothing his weary soul. In that short respite, he felt a fleeting touch of solace, a fleeting moment of peace among the tempest that raged within.