In Between

Part Two

A few days after you discovered the boy that was in your garden, you were in your library dusting books. You had finally had all the books I the system and now it was time to organize them. You were on the top of the ladder carefully tossing the books down to the ground. You would hold your hand as far down as possible and let go. Only a few of the books opened and pages bent. You couldn't think of any other efficient way to get all the books down.

The sun was already gone for the day and the moon hadn't really taken it's place, it was still too dark. The lights from the garden shimmered brightly in the dark night. You thought you saw someone walking out of the corner of your eye. You stopped and glared trying to get your eyes to focus. Maybe it was mom checking on her plants. I mean, she was working hard to get that garden back in shape maybe she couldn't sleep.

Mom was a viable guess until you saw purple. Mom was liberal and possibly a little crazy, but dying her hair purple wasn't a part of her agenda. You paused as you stared out the window. He's back. He's really back. You smiled and quickly ran to the garden.

Once again when you got down there he was nowhere to be found. You sighed, but instead of looking for him you sat down on the bench near the fountain. You hoped he'd find you and sure enough, there he is. He still had his purple hair though. He came over and defensively he said "who are you?" You decided you'd play along and not scare him away. I mean it's not every day you meet a ghost right?

"Oh I'm... I'm sorry... My names y/n." You couldn't look at him.

"Why are you in my garden?" His voice was still harsh.

"I uh... " you were fumbling for a lie, but for some reason you couldn't think. C'mon y/n! Tell him something "it's my garden" not that. That's not a lie. The confused look flashed on his face again and before you could stop him he vanished.

"Wait!" You shouted too late. "Michael? Wait, come back!" You were probably yelling too loud for it being two in the morning, but in that moment you didn't care. "Michael? I know about you. You're not alone, I mean I don't care. Just come back so I can-"

"So you can what? Laugh at me?" He appeared right in front of you and his eyes were mean. Darker than when you saw him just a few moments ago. He was leaving over you and his power was forcing you to cower away.

"I'm s-s-sorry." You stuttered out. You ended up falling onto the bench.

Michael continued to yell about how he refuses to be the person that is the fool.

"I'm not laughing, Michael. I want to talk." He shook his head and stepped away. His eyes were changing color before your eyes and his hair that was red now, changed to blonde. A nice natural blonde. He stared for awhile then disappeared in front of you. Great. He's gone again and probably won't come back.

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A month later I was proven wrong. School had started and you spent less time in the library, but this weekend you were completely free and intended on spending every minute in that room. On Saturday he appeared. You were going through a stack of books and placing them on the cart that you used to organize them when he made you jump.

"We never had this many books" his voice wasn't harsh or even confused. It was calm and relaxed. You snapped around to locate him. He was sitting on the window bench with his back against the wall and his feet stretched out. He was too tall so his feet hung off the edge. "When my dad bought this place I was 8 and I wasn't allowed in here." He had his hands behind his head and his eyes were closed. Too casual, but yay he was talking.

You put a book on the cart and walked toward him. You pressed your back against the wall and stared at him.

"What happened?" Your voice was more timid than you had wanted it to be.

He smirked and shook his head "sorry doll. I don't share my story. Never have. Never will." He got up and he started walking around

"So" your voice wasn't as shaky as before "you know you're dead?"

"Of course" he laughed a bit "sometimes I get stuck in a routine and I forget, but for the most part I know. I just hang out." He was running his fingers over the spines of some books.

A ghost boy should scare you. This whole thing should scare you. But you were calm. You were too curious about who he was or how he was still here go be nervous or scared.

Michael was in the middle of telling you about the first book he remembered reading all the way through when he disappeared. You looked around the room and almost by instinct you looked out the window. He was walking around the garden like you had seen him do a few times before. You ran to the garden and waited. When he appeared you were quiet. He asked who you were in the usual voice with a tone of hatred. His dark eyes stared at you as you sat in silence. Without warning he turned and looked toward a dark corner of the garden. You had never noticed how creepy it was. He was paralyzed with fear. Not only did you peek around to see his face you could feel the tension in the air.

"Who's there?" He shouted in a shaky voice. "Who... Is it? My dad will... My dad... Will call the cops."

Michael grew quiet and started retreating backwards until he ran into a bush. He stood against the foliage and and slowly started cowering to the ground.

"Please don't... Please.." He was panicked and you could swear he was crying. You didn't know what to do so you shouted to him the only thing you knew that made him leave. "This is isn't your house!" No response.

He was too wrapped up in the fear. So you yelled it again then again and again.

When that didn't work you got in front of him and looked him straight in the eye and said "this is isn't your house" you reached your hand up out of reflex and to your surprise you were able to touch him. Your touch made him twitch and he focused his eyes on you and you smiled at him "this isn't your house" you whispered and with that he vanished again. You allowed yourself to fall against the spot where Michael had been sitting. The garden felt empty and light now. It was a weird feeling, but not a bad one.

You looked down at your hand and examined it. You can't touch ghosts... Can you? You didn't know much about tonight, but what you did know was that Michael had to tell you his story.