Young Writers Society

Where once there was just a shirt, now, there was a person. An invisible person only made visible by the clothes they were wearing around their frame. James felt like whatever reaction in him was inclined to be shocked was overworked. He only continued to stare at the figure before him.

So this was Oliver now.

He didn’t know what to do with that. Or himself.

James shifted so he was sitting on his bottom instead of his knees, and found a tree beside the corpse to lean against. Though fear kept his nerves on edge, and his heart was still racing, he couldn’t ignore the pain. He wanted to stop moving. Hell, he wanted to stop thinking, but whatever was happening he would have to face now or later.

“I suppose I should bury your body at some point,” he said, looking at the clothed ghost. “You deserve to be put to rest. Respectfully. Not like... whatever this is.”

I frantically shook my head.

I had no idea how to convey that I still very much needed said body, but hopefully he got the idea from how fast I was shaking my head. I did not want to dig myself out of the earth.

I pointed at myself, then at the body.

"I'm going back in there," I said. "So you better not bury it."

James wasn’t that dull. He knew what an adamant no looked like. He blinked at the figure. No and yes were easy things to communicate. He guessed he could start asking yes or no questions. He might as well entertain it, even if he was somehow dreaming or hallucinating, or otherwise not fully there.

“Would it be bad for you if I buried you?”

I gave a nod.

"It would be very bad," I said.

James looked down at the corpse. He was beyond confused and too tired to think to hide his sadness from his face. He wore it plainly.

“...Okay.”

He looked back at the figure ahead of him.

“Are you Oliver?”

Tiberius thought I was dead.

I was, but not in the way he was thinking. I didn't know how to explain the complicated mess I had accidentally created by ending up here. I was Reed the entire time Tiberius had known him. I was Oliver from after his escape. But I wasn't really either one of those, and I knew I'd have to tell him the truth sooner rather than later.

But how could I explain that when I could only nod?

I gave a nod again. I'd explain the truth to him after I was back in a body that could talk.

James sighed. His heart felt heavy, and his chest tight with anxiety, all while his mind was receding into a thick fog.

“Butch killed you, didn’t he,” he said, less as a question, and more as a statement. “Because of me.”

I hesitated for a moment.

Then I nodded.

I waited for another question to be asked, but it never came - the clothes and bandages fell to the ground as I suddenly found myself in Oliver's body again. I didn't give Tiberius a chance to mourn me again. I shot up almost immediately, covering my eye with my hand as I fumbled for the cloth that was hanging around my neck.

James jumped when Oliver shot back up and nearly tore open another wound. He let out a pained cry that he poorly attempted to stifle as he composed himself, staring back at the corpse come to life.

His mind was reeling. He was breathing heavy.

“Y-you’re not-“ he stuttered. “Dead?”

I faltered.

That was a loaded question.

"It's, er, complicated," I finally said.

I paused and looked him over again.

"You might want to sit down," I said. "I am dead, but not in the way you're thinking. And I'm technically not Oliver, even though I'm the one who's been talking to you since I showed up with this."

I raised a finger and gestured at the cloth I had just finished putting around my eye again.

James drew in a shuddered breath as he lowered himself back down to the ground, sitting back against the tree. He didn’t need the man to tell him he should sit down. He knew that much - and that was apparently all he knew. As Oliver - or whoever he was - began to explain, James felt his mind beginning to shut down. He begged of it to stay engaged, if only just for a little longer.

Were he not talking to a corpse, his skepticism wouldn’t even allow the consideration of the man’s words as truth, but considering he was literally doing what should’ve been impossible, he wanted to hear what he had to say.

“If you’re not Oliver... what should I call you?” he asked softly.

"Skull," I said. "My name's Skull."

Now that I was sitting up again, I crossed my legs and faced Tiberius. I wasn't sure where to even begin - I had the feeling Tiberius was going to pass out soon.

"Who I am is a little complicated," I admitted. "I'm from another world - or, at least, I think I am. Everyone on that world gets a special power when they end up there, and my power is possessing. I was going to possess a friend of mine, but then I..."

I faltered.

Was I really ready to admit to Tiberius that I had been Reed? He had barely accepted that I wasn't really Oliver, and that I wasn't really dead. I stared down at my lap, suddenly unable to come up with something to say.

Skull. James would not have guessed that.

He listened closely as Skull began to explain and then trailed off. He tilted his head slightly to the side, waiting for some time for Skull to finish his sentence. When the end of it never came, he quietly asked:

“What’s possession?”

I hadn't expected that.

Still, I was grateful for the change in topic. I could debate if I actually wanted to tell him I was Reed later - for now, I could focus on explaining my power.

"It's basically putting my consciousness in something else," I said. "I don't know how it works. I usually do people, but I can do things that are technically inanimate, too."

I faltered.

"...Like Oliver's body," I said.

James shuddered. The thought of someone entering someone else’s consciousness and taking control over their body felt like a massive invasion of one’s autonomy and privacy, not to mention it was wildly vulnerable. It seemed like a very powerful ability to have, and not one he even had a grid for.

That, and Skull was from another world? There were other worlds?

He blinked.

“How long have you been in Oliver’s body? Was I ever even interacting with Oliver, or was it always you?”