This IS crazy.
This IS crazy.
I’m in a weird place right now.
It pains me to realize that I’ve lost someone I loved
and it breaks my heart to know that they may never come back.
It’s been rough these past couple of weeks
but now it’s all over.
There’s no more fight to fight. It’s over.
Expect the lesson on Sunday.
Posted in Letters, tagged 2012, Anime, Anime Expo, Apocalypse, Con, Crowbar, Eating, Expo, Face, Face Eating, Favor, Florida, Fun, Homeless, Homeless Man, Infection, Jeff, Jeff Favor, Letters, Miami, The, Zed, Zombies on May 29, 2012 | Leave a Comment »
The next month is a very exciting one and, it’s very possible, it will be a very deadly one. A news story about a man eating flesh, an anime convention where extreme partying will happen, and the year the world apparently ends will be the subjects of today’s letter. For the next month I will be preparing for something called THE APOCALYPSE CON.
In Miami, Florida a naked man eats the flesh off another man’s face. Police shot the attacker on Saturday, killing him with a couple of shots that no man can walk away from. Identities of the men haven’t been released, but it’s being said that they were homeless men living under MacArthur Causeway. Of course, the police are saying that the man was probably on drugs. But I think that the worst case scenario is something much more deadly.
If you’ve been living under the biggest rock for the past two or three years then you probably missed the whole “2012 End of the World” thing. The Mayan calendar would end and everyone and their freakin’ grandmother thought “IT’S LIKE Y2K, BUT WITH CALENDARS.” I swear, some of the smartest people I’ve ever met were worried about this, and the dumbest people I’ve ever met wouldn’t shut up about it. I’ll even admit I felt weird for about an hour before I laughed about it saying “Just another Y2K scare.” Theories thought of concerning the end of the world included all time collapses into nothing, massive earthquakes and tsunamis, aliens making first contact killing all life on Earth, and, the one I thought would be the most fun, zombie infection spreading. Well after the movie 2012 came out pretty much everyone went “Now that Hollywood has made a shitty movie about this, I can finally get over it. This is really dumb.” I haven’t heard anything about The 2012 Apocalypse for months.
What if there was no Patient Zero? What if it all starts with a naked man in Miami?
<WARNING: THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH CONTAINS THE PHRASE “WHAT IF” SEVEN TIMES>
What if the man that was shot on saturday was carrying a virus? What if there are more people spread around the world carrying that exact same virus? What if, instead of the same virus, they’re carrying different types of the virus? What if it spreads? What if it peaks? What if a majority of the human population turn into human happy meals? What if all the “stupid” people were right and this is the end of the world?
Where will I be in a month? Exactly a month? I will be at Anime Expo with my friends partying extra hard. It’s been a big year, a rough year, and a long year, and I need to let loose for five days straight drinking milkshakes and performing magic for people. I’ve lost some folks lately but I’ve gained some new friends that I’m sure will make AX extra awesome. If the zombie outbreak spreads all through out the convention I will survive because I will have my dearest friends by my side. It’ll be dangerous, it’ll be risky, but oh my god it will be so badass. I’m calling Anime Expo this year THE APOCALYPSE CON because, who knows, it could very well be the end of the world. If it is I’ll go out swinging, I’ll go out killing some Zed, and you better believe that if there are Homestuck Zombies I’m going to have a lot of fun with my crowbar.
Posted in Lessons In Morality, tagged Break, Favor, Feeling, Hardship, In, Jeff, Jeff Favor, Lesson, Lesson In Morality, Life, Morality, Ominous, Overcome, The, The Ominous Feeling, Tragedy on May 27, 2012 | Leave a Comment »
It’s been hanging over my head for days.
No matter who you are it is a fact that you are dealing with some form of hardship. You could be the richest man in the world with everything you could ever want or you could be homeless with very little to call your own; Everyone has their own troubles. It could be fortune, it could be stability, it could be with relationships, health, or self. Everyone deals with something that they need to overcome and that’s what makes life worth living. You win some, you lose some, you live through it or you die. No one is free from tragedy and hardship.
I took a break for a couple of days. I don’t just mean from the blog, I mean I took a break from anything involving work. I didn’t work out, I didn’t write, I didn’t work on projects, I didn’t even really work on my reading. It’s been a rough couple of weeks and I took the victory of finishing high school as reason to relax. “I’m done with my classes and I worked a lot on the draft of the Ghosts script so I deserve a little break from everything.”
The past couple of days have been pretty nice. I slept in, I hung out with friends, I ate at my favorite restaurant two nights in a row, I saw Avengers AGAIN (Because three times wasn’t enough), I caught up on Community, and I was able to finally say “Fuck high school. I’m totally done with that shit.” It would’ve been a perfect couple of days if it weren’t for a persistant ominous feeling I’ve had since Wednesday. It started when I got home from school and I’ve been feeling it on and off since then. It’s a very strange feeling to have when you’re trying to relax and lay low. It fades to the back of your head for most of the day but it surfaces on seemingly random times that you never really predict. It’s similar to the feeling you had when you broke something expensive when your parents weren’t home when you were younger. It’s comparable to the feeling you get when you’re in a dying relationship that could end any day. It would surface but I would ignore it because “I’m on a break, god dammit, and nothing is going to bring me down.”
Over the past four days I’ve learned that the past couple of weeks haven’t just been rough on me. Many of the people closest to me have been dealing with their own hardships, their own tragedies, and they’re all doing the best they can to live their lives. They’re all dealing with different problems and they’re all dealing with unique situations. For half a second it comforted me to know that I wasn’t alone. That ended with seeing friends, family, teammates, and heroes dealing with serious problems. Tonight the ominous feeling peaked and I was hit with racing thoughts of “The Bitter Truth”.
I smoked my cigarette outside the closing theater waiting to go home. I knew what I would call this week’s Lesson in Morality and I knew the lesson would be about “The Bitter Truth”. Everybody Hurts would be a post where the lesson learned is that “Everyone suffers and everyone feels pain. You aren’t alone.” It would be a post that a younger, more emotionally unstable Jeff would’ve written. I’m sure that post would bring fifteen year old scene girls to my blog like sheep and maybe it would get 100 shares on Vampire Freaks. I was very content with writing it because I thought that it was the complete lesson (Even if it seems like something you’d write with multitudes of angst in the 8th grade).
It took a friend who probably has dealt with the roughest tragedy out of all of us to show me that “The Bitter Truth” was incomplete. They’re dealing with things that would break an average person and they’re dealing with troubles that are very hard to top. If I were in their shoes I’d be camped in my room in silence and darkness. They are extremely strong and it is inspiring to see someone carry themselves like they do. They’re overcoming powerful heart break and they’re doing it with a smile. The Bitter Truth was incomplete because it was missing the other half of the lesson. It’s a lesson I needed to learn before I hit the ‘Real World‘, and I really have to thank my friend for making it more clear.
Yes, everybody hurts. We all feel pain and we all suffer. It’s true that you aren’t alone in that. But it isn’t the just your tragedies that define you, even if it sometimes feels that way. What’s just as important when looking for definition is how you overcome your problems. Everybody hurts but very few are able to hurt and get better in a good amount of time. Sometimes it takes a while, sometimes you can feel better in a day or so. How you overcome the hardship in your life will determine who you really are. I hope that you can get through it.
My break is over and it’s time to get back to work. I may be dealing with a lot right now but I know that I can get through it. As always it’ll take a lot of work, a lot of long walks full of deep thought, and time. Something that I know will help me is celebrating whatever victories I can get. I’m still wearing my metaphorical party hat because I survived an absolute shit high school experience. This is probably going to last for a good while and I’m absolutely fine with that.
It isn’t just me, is it? From a first glance at a distance it’s an honest mistake, right?
This letter has a lot of news in it. There’s good news, bad news, and news about the change in my summer plans. Once again I pulled an all nighter thinking and working on what’s in store for the future. To be honest the new idea is a lot more realistic.
The good news is that I’ve officially got a partner to do the art for my stories. Roxy is really cool and I’m very happy to be working with her. I have a really good feeling that we’ll be able to work well together while getting a lot of things done and published for you to read. I’m working on a script right now that I’ll be sending to her probably around Sunday for her to look over.
The bad news is that I have to postpone the original Big Awesome Summer Project. I worked on the story for the past five days and I can already tell that this isn’t going to work right now. The original plan was to release a 12-15 part story on the internet for free over the course of the summer. After writing outlines, character bios, and ideas on how the story should be told I’ve decided that this story would be better if it was released as a graphic novel. It makes me really sad because I know that means I’ll be shelving this story for a good while, but you should know that it isn’t going away forever. Hopefully you’ll be able to read it someday.
The new plan actually spans from out of summer and into Fall.
Over the course of the next couple of months I’ll be publishing five different stories that will later be bound into a paperback. There will be stories about ghosts, guns, urban legends, foxes and wolves, and issue 0 of something I’ve been thinking of for the past two months. All of the stories will be contained into their own 32 page comic book which can be bought from an Etsy page (Link posted later). You can buy each book one at a time, you can buy the paper back in November, or you can do both!
The first book that will be released is the comic book version of Ghosts From The Past. With a newly written script and Roxy’s art you can expect something that’s top quality. More information later, but we’re looking to release it late July.
If you’re wondering what prompted this post all I can tell you is that it’s been an interesting night.
Before I sat down to write this at 4:20AM I decided that I needed to clear my head. I had gotten a lesson on how to make better lattes from a friend who works at Coffee Bean, so I thought that I should try to brew a cup that tasted like a $5 drink. I filled my Umbrella Academy mug, grabbed four mini doughnuts, and went out to my porch. Doughnuts, coffee, Miles Davis, and a cigarette. It was a magical thirty minutes that almost made me forget the racing thoughts in my head. I finished my “breakfast” and went inside. After cleaning the pot, my cup, and emptying the ashtray I went back to my room where the heavy thoughts rejoined my heavy heart.
What does it mean to be in love with someone?
One of the things that all of my friends can agree on is that all of my past relationships were horrible. Some were worse than others, but all of them are stories that have ranging severity of bad situations. All of them ended with broken hearts, all of them ended with someone getting really hurt. Usually that someone was me, but one or two times it was the other person. The next piece of information is an important detail that I’m pretty ashamed of: I thought I honestly loved almost every girl I’ve ever been with. I’ve had “The One” pop up so many times it’s absolutely ridiculous. For all of my life I’ve been brainwashed by movies, TV shows, comic books, video games, and songs on the radio to believe that you’re only really happy when you find your soulmate. After about the third soulmate I’ve found I kind of had a warped view of love. Looking back I only really loved one or two of the people I dated, and those are the one or two that did the most damage. I loved too much too soon and it made me way too jaded at eighteen years old.
What does it mean to be in love with someone? Is it never getting sick of them? Is it loving everything about them? The desire to spend forever with them, the want to never say goodbye? Are you in love when they’re all you think about? Are you in love when you feel you never want to kiss anyone’s lips but theirs? It’s a complicated question without a definite answer. I’m sure that if you asked around you’d get reoccurring ideas like “Be with them till the end” or “Trusting someone to treat you as well as you treat them”. However, I know for a fact that there’s too much to debate over when it comes down to finding a definite answer. It’s probably a good thing that there isn’t one or else every 7th grader across the nation would whip out the formula and propose at their school’s winter formal.
I don’t really have an answer anymore. I know that I’m going to be single for a really long time, and I know that I won’t fall in love for even longer. The future holds many dates, a good amount of women, and figuring out my answer to the question. I’m starting almost from ground zero, but there’s a piece that I know will be a major factor in knowing that I love her.
When I kiss their lips I’ll never want to kiss anyone’s lips but theirs.
By the way, that had to be the best f#$%ing coffee I’ve ever had. I think I’ll brew another pot.
If you’re reading this comment below with your answer. How do YOU know that you’re in love with someone? I’m curious to see what you guys have to say.
The desire to be a professional writer is fairly new for me.
I’ve only really had it for a couple of months. Before I used to want to go to film school so that I direct and, every so often, write movies that would be different than the majority of the garbage being released today. I didn’t really count that as writing professionally because I put being a director ahead of the writing part of the goal. My first desired career choice was to be a professional magician, touring all year long and becoming the world’s greatest geeky illusionist. That was my dream for a very, very long time before I decided to only do magic part time. “I want to write for a living” came out of me first in December 2011, only as a possibility for the future. “I want to write for a living” became a statement about my future on February 29, 2012 at Disneyland. As I sat on a bench next to a statue of Walt Disney holding hands with Mickey Mouse I knew that I had finally found something that I could enjoy doing, that I could do well, and that I might be able to get paid for. I saw the road ahead of me as a long one with various challenges and numerous obstacles, but it was on that bench I decided that this was the road I wanted to take for the rest of my life.
I’ve written stories and poetry since I was a young child. I started to write stories and poetry worth reading only about three years ago, the very last month of freshman year of high school. My English teacher liked reading the fifteen page story that I had spent a month writing, and he told me that I should continue to write stories of that caliber. I wrote when I was depressed, I wrote when I was ecstatic, I wrote when I felt lonely, I wrote when I was in love. I didn’t make it a habit to write every day but I made sure that when I wrote a story that it was the best thing I’ve written so far. I spent most of my time either deleting everything from the project and starting everything over from scratch (Sometimes more than ten times) and I spent the rest of my time convincing myself that it was an absolute masterpiece that people should read and fall in love with. Up until two weeks ago that was my formula when it came to working on projects. It took Ghosts From The Past to change how I do things.
Before I would turn in stories for class, now before I publish them for here, I always showed a couple of people what I’ve written before I send it off. I want to see what they think and I want to know if I should change anything to make my story better. In the past I’ve gotten “This was wonderful” and I’ve gotten “This is absolute shit”. I’ve always been very careful in picking who I send my drafts to. The goal is to find someone fair, reasonable, and if possible, constructive. I’ve been very lucky, and grateful, to have friends and family that I share drafts with who are all of those things. When I wrote Ghosts I told myself that this was fantastic. “People are going to read this and they’re going to love it. Definitely the best start I could have in my journey as a writer.” When I sent the story to my circle of friends and family they all told me that they really enjoyed it. One of them even said that it made them tear up because it hit home that much. I was very confident, and I was very proud. It was very early on Friday morning when I decided to reread the story before I put it up on the blog.
I’m very glad that I did.
There were grammar mistakes, typos, and things that could’ve been worded better all over the story. I reread it and reread it again and would still catch one or two things that were wrong. I spent about two hours making sure that the story was fine before I clicked the blue Publish button. If this had happened a couple week earlier the story wouldn’t be up right now; I would be rewriting absolutely everything. I published it because for the first time, probably in the entire time I’ve been writing, did something different when faced with a problem. I reread the story from a fair, honest, and realistic viewpoint. After that I shared it with the world.
Ghosts From The Past is a story that you can read and enjoy without thinking too much. I’m sure there’s going to be some people who can say that the writing could be a bit better, and I’m sure that there’s going to be some people who consider my metaphors weak and obvious. I’m sure there’s at least some of you who asked yourselves “How many times can Jeff us the phrase ‘Young Boy’ in the same story?” I’m sure that there’s going to be people who didn’t enjoy it at all. What I got from Ghosts was this:
-This is the first thing I’ve written with the mindset of trying to write professionally.
-It took all of my effort and three days of serious writing to make this story as good as possible.
-It’s a really good idea, but there’s room for improvement.
-There’s going to be people who enjoy it and there’s going to be people who don’t like it.
-There’s only one way to go, and that way is up.
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to be fair, honest, and realistic about something you’ve done. Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself, maybe you need to be a bit harder. The moment you can be fair, honest, and realistic is the moment you can start working on actual improvement. Take a couple of steps back, breathe, sleep on it if you need to, and look with fresh eyes. You’d be surprised what you’ll find that way.
This isn’t the end of that story. In fact, you can expect something better in the near future.
Posted in Stories From A Madman, tagged A, Facebook, Favor, From, Ghosts, Ghosts From The Past, Jeff, Jeff Favor, Madman, Past, SHARE, Stories, Stories From A Madman, The on May 18, 2012 | Leave a Comment »
It’s here! Read it, like it, share on Facebook! Sharing the link takes ten seconds but it will help me out oh so much.
GHOSTS FROM THE PAST
By Jeff Favor
There was a high school girl standing on a doorstep; As she stood with her green messenger bag by her side she rang the doorbell of the suburban house on the side of the hill. Later, the girl reaches out her hand to a young boy playing with plastic dinosaurs on his bedroom floor. The girl made the young boy dinner, watched movies with him, and later tucked him into his race car shaped bed. The two became very attached and starting to grow a sibling-like bond. She would hold his hand as they walked through the park and he would hold onto a string with a red balloon at the other end. The boy seemed to change from six years old to ten years old overnight, or at least the girl thought. The boy became angry and began to yell with all of his ten year old might; The girl began to cry tears of absolute pain and sorrow. After that everything seemed to burst in flames. All of these memories were like photographs in a fire, disintegrating into nothing but ash in the flame of regret and suffering. The fire in his mind begins to spread, and Kevin wakes up from his nightmare.
“Just a bad dream,” he thought. “I just had another bad dream.” Kevin stood up in the back room of the coffee shop where he worked. He looked at his cellphone to check the time and noticed that he had overslept on his break by about ten minutes. His boss was harsh about going over your break, so, as he should, Kevin prepared for the absolute worst of the worst. He stepped out of the back room and stretched his arms as he walked toward his manager. Hal, still washing coffee pots and pans, called out “You’re ten minutes late.” Kevin walked toward the register saying nothing. “You know, if you’re always late it makes you look really bad.” Hal made sure to put the emphasis on the “Really Bad” part. Kevin said nothing, biting his tongue in fear of saying something that would get him fired. Hal finished washing the last coffee pot and walked toward the register. “What if I needed extra help out here? What then?” “Yes, because this location at 4:00AM is so busy.” Kevin snapped, he could no longer bite his tongue. Hal took a step forward and pointed at the barista,”You’re out of line.” Kevin looked at the register as he said “And you’re an asshole.” Hal was quiet a moment before he spoke again. “Go home, Kevin.”
Out the door he walked and he lit a cigarette as he began his journey home. He inhaled the smoke as he began to think to himself. “These dreams are getting to me. That was the fifth one in the past week or so.” He walked past the diner that was open twenty-four hours a day and flicked the excess ash from his cigarette onto the ground. “Hal is probably going to give me hell next time I see him. I just won’t show up tomorrow, I guess.” Kevin waited to cross the street even though there was no one on the road. He had much to think about: his bad dreams, his current work situation, why he suddenly feels so guilty. Kevin, for the past couple of weeks or so, has felt a level of guilt that he’s never experienced before. What made it worse was the fact that he had no idea why he felt so horrible. He crossed the street and made his way to the park to use as a shortcut back to his apartment.
The ominous way the park’s trees sway in wind at night makes the park have an eerie atmosphere. The streetlights are either blown out or dim, leaving areas that rest in utter darkness. Kevin knew that the fastest way to his apartment would be to cut through the park. It still didn’t change his mind about how creepy the walk would be. He entered through the iron gates that never seem to be locked, and as he walked through them it seemed that the light outside the park began to dim, making Kevin believe that he was entering a void of pure darkness. He began to speed up on the path as he noticed the swings moving back in forth in the wind, as if lost children were playing on them on a visit from the underworld. He walked up the hill, cigarette in hand and smoking leaving his body, as he noticed something on the ground up ahead. It was something lying under what was probably the brightest streetlamp in the park. It was too big to be a dog and he was sure it couldn’t be a shadow from a faulty streetlamp. Kevin whispered under his breath as he began to run toward the lamp. “A body.”
He made it to the body in under two minutes. Out of breath Kevin began to look down and try and investigate. It was a woman, not older than nineteen, laying in a fetal position with her hands covering her face. “Oh my god,” Kevin whispered in fear of a killer that could possibly be nearby, waiting to kill again. The woman was in black jeans and a white blouse, her hair was dirty blonde and very messy. Kevin reached toward her right arm and raised it toward the light. Her skin was dirty and scarred, dried blood all along her forearm. Kevin looked at the face, his jaw dropped, and he fell backwards all at the same time. The body began to twitch, and soon The Ghost began to turn over so it’s stomach lay on the ground. Her arms helped push her up, her knees trembling as if she hadn’t walked in over a decade. Her back hung her body low, arms swaying in the wind. She growled out with a sinister tone,”Kevin…” His eyes widened as he began to crawl backwards. She stood up straight, arms reaching toward him. Her left eye was gone, what was there was an empty socket with a red light that glowed crimson. Her jaw was broken, it hung off centered. Her face was scratched and cut, the wounds infected and untreated. Kevin was terrified, all he could whimper was “You’re dead. You died a long time ago.” The Ghost took a step forward and let out another growl. “Kevin…” Kevin, able to pull himself together for a moment got up sprinted toward the other end of the park, never looking back.
He made it out of the park, and although he was out of breath, he kept running toward home. “That couldn’t be her. That’s impossible.” He ran and he kept running in fear of The Ghost haunting him again. Kevin was reminded of his bad dreams, and with that, he was reminded of the past.
“You must be Amy!” “Hello, Mrs. Thomas! It’s nice to meet you.” Amy walked through the front door, grabbing her green messenger bag. “How was the drive? I know you live on the other side of the hill.” “I enjoy the drive, I don’t mind it at all.” Mrs. Thomas walked to the stairs and called out for her son. “Kevin! Can you come down here?” There was no response, only silence. The mother sighed. “Hold on, he’s in his room.” “Mind if I follow?” “Not at all.” The two went up the stairs and turned down the hallway. Amy pushed open the door to find a six year old playing with dinosaurs on his bedroom floor. Mrs. Thomas walked toward her son, “Kevin, this is Amy. She’s going to be looking after you tonight.” The young boy looked up with wide eyes, saying nothing. Amy walked to him from the doorway and squatted on the ground; She reached her hand out and smiled her wonderful smile. “Hi, Kevin! I’m Amy. Wanna be friends?” The young boy stared at her for a moment in utter awe of what he saw. He had never seen anything, anyone, this beautiful before. He had never met her before, but he already trusted her. He smiled and shook her hand.
Kevin made it to his apartment complex. He took out his keys, his hands trembling, and unlocked the door. He ran toward the elevator, not looking back. He must’ve pressed the button at least twelve times before the elevator arrived on the lobby. He jumped in and pressed the button labeled 5, but when he looked out of the doors he saw The Ghost limping toward the elevator letting out the growl. “Kevin…” The doors closed as Kevin let out a scream of pure terror. Fifth floor, the doors open. He walked out of the elevator as the lights began to flicker. Whether The Ghost was near or whether the growl was still resonating terror within him, Kevin heard his named being called out in a low, sinister tone. He unlocked his door and entered quickly. He thought his home would ensure his safety.
“She isn’t real, Kevin. This isn’t happening.” He tried to pour himself something to drink, but he spilled the bourbon all over his counter. Frustrated, he threw his glass to the wall, shattering it instantly. With his head hung low he wandered out of the kitchen and sat on his couch. “She died almost fifteen years ago. It’s impossible for her to come back. There’s no way she can come back.”
“Amy, can I have a balloon?” “Alright, but you have to promise to hold on tight. If you don’t it will blow away.” “I promise to never let go.” Amy walked up to the ice cream man at the park and paid for the balloon. The sun was shining bright, it was a perfect day. She handed the balloon to the young boy, and he held on with all of his might. He reached for her hand and she gladly held his. The two walked from the park to the boy’s house and Amy began to prepare dinner. He ate dinner and watched a movie before he grew tired enough to fall asleep. Amy tucked him into his race car shaped bed before she kissed him on the forehead goodnight. She turned off the light in his room, left the door open slightly, and left the hallway light on to ward off any demons or monsters that may want to harm the young boy fast asleep.
Kevin kept splashing water on his face, convinced that if he did so that he’d wake up from this nightmare. He was shaking, he was terrified. “She died. This isn’t happening.” He looked in the mirror with tired eyes. He reached for his phone to check the time. 5:38AM. “This is just a bad dream, fall asleep and wake up perfectly fine. Perfectly safe.” He fell onto his bed and he rested his head on his pillow. His body sunk into the memory foam of the mattress, his head snuggled getting comfortable. Kevin began falling asleep. The thought of a ghost chasing him was no longer important because he knew that he was finally safe. As his mind began to settle he thought of a sentence that would comfort him into dreams. Four little words with meaning of powerful magnitude. Four words that many say, but few really mean. Before he fell asleep he thought told himself “I shouldn’t even care.” “Kevin…” Panic surged through his body. Kevin’s eyes became wider than they’ve ever been and he looked up to see The Ghost standing over him. He screamed and ran to the front door, dodging The Ghost’s grasp. He sprinted down the hall and made his way to the stairwell.
“I DON’T CARE!” “Kevin, you’re being unfair.” “I DON’T CARE.” Amy stood looking at the boy with his arms crossed. She sighed and turned around, facing the front door. “Kevin, stop this. You’re like my little brother. It’s been a rough day… Just go to bed.” The boy punched the wall as he shouted “YOU AREN’T EVEN MY FAMILY! YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” She couldn’t show him how much that statement hurt, she couldn’t let him see her cry. “Kevin, we’ve been friends for four years… I’ve looked after you for that long. We’re like family. I love you like a little brother, and I’ll always care about you.” Kevin shouted as loud as he could with his ten year old voice, “I DON’T LOVE YOU, I HATE YOU! YOU AREN’T MY FAMILY AND YOU AREN’T MY FRIEND! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!!” Amy stood there saying nothing. Her heart was broken, her pain was too much. “Fine… Goodnight, Kevin.” She didn’t look back as she walked out the front door. She got in her car, closed the door, and began to sob. She felt broken. She felt hurt like she’d never been hurt before. After crying for a bit, she started her car and began to drive. She made her way out of the neighborhood and she started to drive down the massive hill. She was was going straight, the other car on the road wasn’t.
Up and up he ran until he hit the roof. Darkness on the horizon, he walked to the edge of the building. He looked out and saw a see of black. There was no light, and in that moment he felt no hope. He felt her presence, he knew she was there. Kevin started to cry as he began to whisper. “You were driving away from me that night I was such a brat. I don’t remember what we were arguing about, I don’t think it even matters, but it made you drive away an hour before my mom came home. You were driving down the hill when it happened… Drunk diver drove you off the road… You crashed into the ground. The car caught fire almost instantly. The drunk barely survived. You didn’t.” Kevin turned around to see The Ghost standing by the stairwell door. He took a couple of steps toward her. “I told myself that it wasn’t my fault. I told myself that I shouldn’t even care. But you’ve been at the back of my head for the past fifteen years, it’s been haunting me with guilt. If I was a better kid you would’ve stayed and you would’ve lived. I wouldn’t ‘t have lost my sister… You’d still be here… For years I told myself that it wasn’t my fault when I knew that it was. It was my fault that you died. It was my fault that you’re not here anymore…. I killed you…” The Ghost stepped toward him, arms reaching out. He stood there, ready to die, ready to pay for his mistake. She stood in front of him, and instead of tearing him to shreds, she embraced him. The Ghost gave him the longest hug he’s ever experienced and whispered in his ear; She sounded like the eighteen year old who tucked him in at night. “Kevin… It wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself. It’s okay, I promise. Please, let go…” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them she was gone, and his guilt vanished forever.
Kevin looked up and noticed that the dark horizon was gone and that the sun was rising. Kevin felt calm and he felt at peace; he was no longer haunted by his past. The sun began to rise as he made his way to the stairwell. Before he closed the door he chuckled, even smiled, as he said under his breath “I think I’ll go to work today.”