Young Writers Society

Astrid nodded sympathetically and downed their drink.

"That sounds very frustrating." With a frown at their empty glass, they decided that it was worth the risk to get their fix, and pulled out their flask once again to fill the glass to the top. Hopefully Boris wouldn't notice.

I realized just then that I had been frowning. I relaxed my face, and returned to a more conversational tone.

''It'll all be worth it, in the end. I suppose I shouldn't complain so much about my lot in life. Apparently, some people,'' I said, inclining my head in the direction of the German, ''Have died.''

Schadel let out an angry huff of air and returned to her seat. Edward followed suit a few moments later, watching her with worry in his eyes as she downed her entire drink in less than a minute. She slammed the glass back down, eyes glaring holes into the back of the man's head. "I am so angry right now," she muttered, quickly ordering another drink.

Edward, who had been nursing his own drink, narrowed his eyes in concern.

"I can't believe he had the nerve to say something like that," she quietly added, finally tearing her gaze off of the man. "I have no idea how he escaped death, but if he's died, it certainly isn't like becoming a ghost. How insensitive can someone be?"

Edward just silently took a sip of his own drink.

"I should cut that stupid bond between him and whoever is keeping his soul in that body," she continued. Edward nearly choked on his drink. "Not because I'm angry, but because it's my duty. You know?"

"Schadel," he whispered, leaning across the table, "I think that's called murder."

She shook her head. "He's already supposed to be dead. He said so himself. I'd just be fixing a mistake that the old administration probably overlooked."

He looked up as they spoke. "First of all, I can hear you, which you should generally automatically assume prior to speaking when you know damn good and well someone isn't human. Second of all, feel free to try to kill me, if you pull it off then kudos to you, you'd be the first. Second, but the first time I didn't stay dead. Thirdly, how the Hölle can you see that there's someone else touching my soul?"

James sighed deeply as the three departed back to their seats and walked slowy to return to his.

Astrid glanced over at the group across the bar, shuddering a little when they spotted the ghost. They just couldn't seem to get away from their origins, could they?

"There are always worse things." They mumbled, pulling their drink closer.

With a glance at Boris, they tried to control their troubled expression.

"But then again, it helps to complain once in a while, because there are always better things, too."

James took his seat just one seat down from the two who were talking like normal people. He ordered another drink as his head began to feel heavy, and he stared down at the bar until his new drink appeared beneath his gaze. He stared into the bubbling liquid, and began to swirl it, tilting the glass in his hands. It slipped out of his fingers, falling a short inch before plopping onto the bar and splashing his fingers a little.

He couldn’t even hold a drink. He hung his head low, leaning forward on the bar and holding his head in his hands. Everything he’d been trying to push out of his mind began rushing back to him like a whirling storm.

The chaos of the waves. The sea serpent spiraling around the ship. The cries of his former shipmates as he helplessly floated further and further away in the distance. The terror he felt when everything and everyone dissapeared under the water. Knowing he was next, only to be ignored and alone... drifting for days.

The... dolphin - a vision or real, he still wasn’t sure - that led him back to shore.

His head sunk lower until his forehead rested on the bar beside his glass. As emotions began to overwhelm him all he could think about was one thing.

Why didn’t that godsd*mned dolphin just let him die? Then, at least, it would be over. Everything. The running. The betrayal. The tragedy. The pain.

And at that, he began to sob.

Schadel immediately froze. Edward took another second to have the same reaction, but it was clear that they hadn't expected the man to overhear what they were talking about. Edward would have said that Schadel had gone as pale as a ghost if she wasn't already so pale.

"Oh man," she muttered, resting her elbows on the table and holding her head in her hands. "I am so dead."

"Only if you try to follow through on that threat, mädel."

"-because there are always better things, too."

Now that I was starting on a fresh glass, I felt inclined to agree. But then I frowned for a second, at the cynicism of that sentiment.

There were plenty of good and wholesome things in the world that were unrelated to alcoholic escapism.
Granted, enjoying them and enjoying alcohol were not mutually exclusive, but I felt that it was high time I made some effort to be optimistic for the night.

I smiled, and raised my glass. "To the good times to come, then."

Then my eye was drawn to this bright little window above the bar, that the bartender watched with rapt attention.
It displayed a moving, living scene of two lovers on a ship. "What is going on, up there?" I asked Astrid, gesturing in its direction.

Astrid squinted up at the television, a little surprised at the discovery that this made their head swim. They must be more intoxicated then they thought.

"I believe it's called a film. I enjoy watching them when I can. Some sort of technological magic with recordings and projection. I don't know this film, though."

They rubbed their eyes and stared up at the screen, entranced by the story, as much as they could put it together.

I stared, bewitched by the projection on the wall. There really was nothing to compare it to. Was it- was it real? Was it recorded from Rose's memory?
As authentic as it looked and sounded, it must have been.
And this- this had colour.
It wasn't done with a camera. I'd seen cameras, unwieldy things that took minutes to take a picture, which would blur if the subject did not stay perfectly still.
No, this was somehow transcribed directly from memory.

I had to marvel at the phenomenal, supernatural heights that technology had achieved when I last blinked.

Being dropped partway into a story, from an unfamiliar place and time, there was much I did not understand, but it kept me thoroughly engrossed all the same.

Schadel let out a groan. "No, not from you! From the administration. They've already been on my case about my friends, and now some random stranger in a bar knows!" She slowly raised her head and looked at the man. "You can keep a secret, right?"

"Give me a reason why I should," he suggests.

"Because you're a good samaritan?" Schadel hopefully said, straightening and looking at the man expectantly. "And because I might just blackmail you by telling everyone that I meet that you're not human, and share proof?"