ghostly conquer

17

But there is no soul in his body now, for it was stolen from him not too long ago by another soul that was once the same as his own. Stripped of all his emotions and cast out from his own home, tossed away carelessly without thought or care. It is that carelessness which has allowed him to survive, but only to survive to see what has become of the rest of the world he had sworn to protect and save.

Granted at last the knowledge of what happens to one's soul after death, the people of Old Amity Park do not join the rest of the world into the secular future and new spirituality that wait them. Instead, impoverished and without any hope for themselves, they still cling onto beliefs and superstitions of yesteryear, all in hopes that what they need will come to them purely through the power of belief.

Danny Fenton has seen all this for himself, but he has no cares in his body for it. Without his soul, he is no more than a newborn baby learning and feeling its surroundings, trying to understand the world around it, and where it belongs within the speck of life on the blue planet we call Earth.

But, like a newborn baby, there is always the priority of sleep that takes precedent over all else, as demonstrated by his own current slumber. Losing all his energy to continue forward, he had planted himself down to the ground in exhaustion, having no one to care for him or anywhere to go.

There are many who might try to take advantage of that state of weakness, but Danny Fenton is lucky enough to stumble into the hands of a group of people far more caring in a world that does not. Taken away in his rest to the confines of an unknown group of people, his new hosts make themselves known to him soon.

A wet washcloth rubs over his face and lets cool water poor down it, cooling off what sickly heat resonates from his body. The sounds of squeezed fabric and pouring water come after, and are followed by another wipe across his head with the cool washcloth once again.

Gaining strength to open his eyes, Danny Fenton opens them to see a group of blurry images over him, each seeming to hold various other goods that facilitate the healing of his body. They speak in only muffled voices that mean little and sound like less to Danny, but he speaks out to them with a coarse and raspy voice, reaching out his hand and calling out the name of...

"Jazz..." Danny moaned.

Another rub across the face comes from the washcloth, along with a gentle grab of a hand around his own, setting the limb back down. Having healed significantly due to their care, the voices had at last began to speak more clearly to Danny Fenton, giving out requests for him to relax in voices that encouraged all reason to be calm.

"It's all right, son. You needn't worry yourself at all. You're safe here." One voice said.

The voice that spoke out to Danny sounded coarse but higher in pitch, as if it belonged to an elderly woman, drawing his attention closer to it. As his vision began to clear as his eyes adjusted to the sudden influx of light fed to them, the sight of the woman made itself clear to him, confirming his estimate of her appearance.

"Some of our brothers found you much in need during a search for food. You had suffered quite a fall, but we've done our best to see to you. So, relax, Danny, let yourself heal." The woman said.

The mention of his name brought forth a familiarity from Danny, recognizing his own name out of the jumbled mess that was his own sensory input. Still, underneath the disarray and disorganized state of his thoughts and consciousness, giving no way to coherent memory, he understood one fact that gained his attention:

He never once spoke his own name to the woman.

"Didn't... tell you... my name..." Danny moaned.

"You didn't have to. I can tell a lot about you just by looking at you, young man. I know you're a long ways from home, I know you're out on a mission, and I know you're looking for something." The woman said.