Fancy Dress pt.2

Hahaha so so so late. Next week, probably slightly late as well, i will be linking you to the video of the A grim work that i mentioned i would be doing at some point. Along with some sort of writing as well of course. Ah well. Look this way to the thrilling conclusion!

We are now up to date. Martin is sitting outside the house, his face a deathly shade of white. Oh yes, he is sad, very sad indeed. This is because he doesn’t quite realise what has happened. What has happened, of course, is that he has ceased to be a man. He is now a creature of limbo, rejected for now by both heaven and hell, his ghoulish figure is cursed to walk the earth until decisions are made as to where he is going. In short, a ghost. This is a vitally important thing to know if you are in that sort of situation. Martin, not being the one for supernatural nonsense, does not realise this.

He stands up. The rain falling through him as he trudges along the road, trudging is a hard thing to do as a ghost, as it implies heavily treading on the floor but Martin was determined that trudging was the best thing to do. He was confused. He felt the knife sink in his neck but now he was up and walking and he felt surprisingly happy. “No,” he thought, “I am trudging through the rain, I am angry and confused and I am not happy.” Now Martin was trudging through the rain; angry, confused and not in the least bit happy. At all. Nope. With that bit of happiness out of the way he decided to set his priorities straight. The word phone drifted through his head. His phone was still inside because we were made to leave them in a bowl by the door. Right; inside then, he looked over to see the door gaping wide open.

Inside, he spotted the bowl almost immediately. A garish, striped, plastic thing. The sort of thing made for throwing away. He reaches in and picks up his phone, with little to no difficulty. He places it in his pocket *seefh bang* it falls through and hits the floor. “A hole in my pocket,” he mumbles reassuringly. He then realises that he is reassuring himself and that cannot be a good thing. He picks up the phone and notices the missed calls and text message alerts plastering the top of the screen. He looked down at his thumb hitting the button just in time to see it go clean through it. He threw the phone to the floor and ran out the door. He had been in the dark inside and as he ran out the flashing red and blue lights swarmed for attention over a woman being pushed into a car and a body being hauled into an ambulance in a body bag. He needed to get away, to get home.

On his way home he took his hat off, still in fancy dress as he was, he looked pretty ridiculous. He grabbed at the hat, perched atop his head and in a fruitless attempt to remove the spectral garment, tripped over a crack in the pavement and fell. As he fell, bracing himself for pain that never came, he could feel nothing. He didn’t feel scared about the fall, he wasn’t worried about injury. In place of his is emotions was a gap. It felt strangely empty, almost as strange in fact as when his knees and one of his arms went through the floor. He screamed.

“Calm down,” he told himself, as he slowly built up an intense state of panic. “It’s just the blood loss, you’re having hallucinations.” The second part of this statement came in his head rather than out loud which made him feel much better about everything. He righted himself and decided to go home, if he ran he could make it in time to tuck his son into bed and he could probably blag a few days off work. Right, that sounded good.

As he reached his house, his head was rushing with the events that happened today. A flash of silver as something was plunged into him. The wail of sirens as an ambulance arrived. He lent up against the door gasping for nothing through the fake beard attached with string to his face. The hairs flew into his mouth and fell to the floor. He was on the verge of fainting as he began to remember exactly what had happened- the knife; he was stabbed, crazy people, ambulance. He fell through the door and landed in the floor. He suddenly jumped back out of the floor, remembering why he rushed so much to get here. Sneaking up the stairs, he groggily reached for the handle of his sons room. His hand slipped off. Well, through to be more precise. He tried opening the door several times, until finally the door clicked and slowly swung open.

His son lay in bed, barely staying awake waiting for his dad to come home. The door swung open and he looked up, but no-one was there. He got up and looked outside, before closing the door. He got into bed and looked around. In the corner was his father; to him a pale white, almost transparent old man with a gaping knife wound
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in his stomach. The fancy dress costume still on him, he had forgotten. His son screamed and dove under the covers. But as Martin ran to him, trying to console him. He began to glow from within and simply disappeared. He had successfully scared someone and was considered worthy of another life.