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16+

Of Lost Graces (16+)

by jaxalexander


Warning: This work has been rated 16+.

The buzzing was overwhelming, it was so much noise. The constant hum of the hornets filled the young boy’s ears as he tried to outrun the swarm of insects that were vibrating his thin and frail bones. All the lone child could see was the black and yellow wall the surround him, and even that was difficult to make out through the self produced crimson salt water that dripped from his eyes. The boy couldn’t breathe, at least not anymore. His throat was so swollen. It must have been the lack of oxygen that caused the boy to slacken in his frantic pace. Maybe if the insects hadn’t forced their way down the child’s throat and swollen up his airway, well maybe then it would have been different. Either way, on December 5th, only seven years after his birth, Hymnal Regan Scott achieved brain death.

Hymnal shivered out of the grip of his memory and into the cold shock of reality. It’d been a long time since tiny Hymnal Scott dreamed about that day. He had this uneasy feeling, even though he saw the E.M.T. everyday. Still the tanned skinned boy was worried. See ever since that day, when Hymnal was brain dead he had been psychic, along with that came a few abilities, abilities like telepathy, heightened intuition, and when Hymn was threatened, telekinesis wasn’t far behind.

So Hymnal had lived day by day, doing whatever he could to help spirits move on, and all the while learning and growing. Marcus, the E.M.T. was exceptional help to the young boy. Marcus would explain certain things that spirits were able to do; he also explained why not every spirit was willing to move on. Actually Marc had a theory about why some spirit’s clung on to their past life.

“Spirits aren’t tied down. They were probably mistaken for gods in the old days. Being shocked into a world that their powers are nearly limitless?” Marc would say while making sure Hymnal wasn’t subjecting himself to take out food again, “Well being exposed to such power is scary. When we are humans we only experience a spark, as ghosts, we will experience the entire flame.”

Hymnal shot back, “Is that why you think I survived that day?”

“Maybe not, maybe you just thought “fuck this! I’m only seven!” But I think it was why you survived.

Thinking about Marc was the easiest way for Hymnal to fall back into the past. Probably why he started to think more and more about that day as he moved to his bathroom and watched his cat stretch and slink in after him.

‘The doctors were saying that I won’t wake up for a long time!’ A small boy thought avid with panic. The boy could feel the crawl of bugs on his skin and he wanted to shove the disgusting little insects away. His arms and legs felt like lead though. He knew his mommy was there, he heard her singing his favorite song earlier. She was crying. That’s why he wanted to move. “My mommy is crying! Mommy shouldn’t cry! I’ll be fine! Mommy!” the small little boy felt the thoughts burst from inside his head in a surge of warm and comforting heat. Anyone looking into the room at that moment would have seen a gorgeous dark skinned woman sit up as if she had been slapped, but only a moment after a small smile graced her lips. She looked to her husband who was yelling at the Doctor and her little girl only a few years older than the boy currently on the bed, but seemed to be glaring at the medical man with more fierceness then even her six and a half foot tall father could manage.

The woman moved and laid a gentle hand on her husband. Who instantly felt her empathetic nature take its hold and calm him. The little girl noticed the lack of yelling, so she picked it up immediately before her father squeezed her hand to silence her. The girl looked up, then moved to the bed where her younger brother was. She crawled in and whispered to her younger brother with fierceness that was seen rarely in the human species, “Next time I’ll protect you.”

That’s when Marcus introduced himself to the family for the first time. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Scott-“

“It’s Moreña and Garret to you, son!” Hymnal’s father admonished before pulling the young E.M.T. into a hug.

“Thank you so much for saving our boy!” Moreña, the dark skinned woman smiled and patted the shoulder of the young E.M.T.

“It’s my job, ma’am.” He replied politely, “I just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t starving yourselves. I know it’s stressful, but you have to eat, otherwise, Hymnal could wake up to one of you in this place. I spoke to the nurses and his condition is extremely stable for the trauma his body sustained. But if you want, I’ll stay with him while you make a quick trip to the store or to the cafeteria downstairs.”

“That’d be wonderful.” Garret said gratefully knowing that both he and his little spit-fire of a daughter wouldn’t eat otherwise.

Moreña gather her purse and her coat before pulling her little girl out of the room and calling back, “We’ll bring you something back!”

Garret nodded and quickly pointed out his number on the white bored, instructing the compassionate medic to call if there was any change. Marc nodded along before Mrs. Scott came back and ushered Mr. Scott out the door.

Marc moved to the bed and sat down. “You’ll be okay, kid. I promise.”

“Thank you, Marc.”

Marc looked up in shock to the swollen face of the boy only to see his eyes open and a small, painful looking, smile on the boy.

Marc smiled, “You are supposed to be in a coma.”

“You are supposed to be down at your rig.” Replied the intellectual seven year old.

“You aren’t supposed to be that smart.” Marc chuckled.

“I just died. I don’t care.” The seven year old said evenly although a small giggle was building up, “Will you be there to save me every time?”

“Yes, I will.” Marc knew that somewhere in his heart that he was telling the truth.

“Good.” With that the boy fell back asleep and took his new found intelligence with him.

“Marc, are you here, love?” the British kid said looking around his living room. “Marc, come on, I’m not playing you wanker!”

“Hello, pet.” Marc said, gliding lazily out of the kitchen, “How did you sleep.”

“I dreamed about the day we meant last night.” Hymnal said moving to put his palm up and out, towards Marc, who mirrored the movement therefore completing their daily ritual.

“Is that good, love?” Marc asked smiling and holding the mirror pose.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a weird feeling in my gut. I really don’t know what to think about this. Last time I dreamed about this, you went and-“

“I know, but that obviously can’t happen again. Don’t worry about anything. I’m not going anywhere.” Marc silenced Hymn as the younger male focused on the hand that was facing his own.

“You’re right, love. Absolutely right. I’m just obsessing over nothing I guess.” Hymnal smiled and meant Marc’s ghostly emeralds. “Okay, remember Marc, my friend from work, Patrice, she and I are going to that karaoke place down town.”

“I thought you said you hated karaoke?” Marc replied his eyebrows raising and shock obviously evident on his face.

“With every fiber of my being, but Patrice just broke up with Liam. She needs someone, and after all, it’s my job to get these sorry sods some closer.” The short boy said as he moved to the kitchen, “Is there anything you want today, Marc?”

“Pancakes!” Marc smiled brightly, in realization that Hymnal was going to cook whatever Marc asked for.

“Again, Marc? Aren’t you getting a little too old for the smiley-face pancakes?” Hymnal smiled at the older man’s childish behavior.

“Never!” Marc replied sticking out his tongue at the cook.

Hymnal didn’t understand how he was doing this…he was outside of his body and walking around. No one could see him either, and he wasn’t sure if that made this new found ability better or worse. But the seven year old knew he had to deal with it. Oddly enough, the boy found himself not in his hospital room starring at his family, but down stairs watch the E.M.T.

The E.M.T. was running about talking to his friends in an excited manor. Finally, after a few minutes he started making his way to the door. Hymn understood that he needed to follow him, after all he was somehow astral projecting himself into another area. Hymnal felt so strongly compelled to follow the man that he found that he actually beat the medic to his destination. The formally mentioned destination, turned out to be the across the street, a tiny little café that got more business than it should, considering it was right across from a hospital.

The lithe spectral of the small boy found himself sitting on a bench outside the café, waiting for Marcus the E.M.T. to cross the street. Finally the young medic saw an opening in the street. Maybe he was too used to the noises of blaring sirens, maybe not. But Hymnal quickly found himself, sitting up in his hospital, screaming out.

“Move!”

It was almost midnight before Hymnal returned home, which was already an extreme rarity, considering that the psychic rarely stayed out later then nine on week nights. Marcus was sitting watching t an old black and white film about Paris and romance. He chuckled under his breath when Hymnal slammed the door open and then gave a repeat performance when he closed the door.

Marcus however got a surprise when the antisocial boy came skipping and smiled brightly at Marc. He moved over and sat down on the couch with his leg tucked under his other one and he smiled as he held up his forceps in order to have the other male in the room mirror him.

“Usually the social scene has you more bonkers then Carrie Fisher.” Marcus said smiling at the obviously happy boisterous movement that the younger male was exhibiting.

“Well okay, so you know how my mum would sing to me at night or when I woke up from a nightmare? Well I guess I inherited her talent. It was absolutely amazing Marc. I sang and the entire pub just got real quiet to listen to me! And then they wanted me to stay on for the rest of the night. And I was so happy. I’ve never felt so…so special! It was amazing!”

“Oh really? Are you going to sing for me, pet?” Marcus asked curiously smiling at Hymnal’s excitement.

“What?” Hymnal said, taken by surprise. “No! No never!”

“Why not?” inquired the man with an ungodly pallor that made his questioning emeralds glow in the light of the television.

“Because you wouldn’t like it.” the much tanner male said pulling his own bright burgundy eyes away from Marcus’s penetrating glare.

“Love, I’m not a critic. And when was the last time you’ve done something I didn’t like? I liked your stories didn’t I?”

“That was different.” Was the shy, but immediate response.

“Why?”

“Because I could make those perfect! Besides, I wouldn’t know what to sing.”

“You’ve like Alicia Moore, sing one of her songs?”

“P!nk?” Hymnal looked startled, of course the boy hadn’t thought of that. He had listened to the singer before she was truly famous, and he could hum out any rhythm to match anyone of the American singer’s songs in an instant. Maybe that’s why he started to sing.

“There’s a whole n’other conversation going on.”

“Move!” Screamed the boy, but it was too late. Hymnal Scott could feel it in his bones.

Marcus was gone. It was ironic, actually. He was hit by an ambulance, a big red cross on the side. A man who turned to that cross daily, who used its definition to constantly heal the sick and injured, and yet his death was forced by that same symbol of healing. Hymnal, for the next few hours was in tears. It wasn’t fair, Hymnal’s life wasn’t more important than Marcus’ life, so why on earth was Marcus taken?

“In a parallel universe. Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts.”

Hymnal awoke that morning in the hospital after crying himself to sleep several hours ago. The Doctor’s attributed the weird actions that Hymnal’s family saw in the night to the coma and the poison from the hornets. But Hymnal knew better. As did Marcus.

“There’s a waltz playing, frozen in time. Blades of grass on tiny bare feet. I look at you and you’re looking at me.”

To everyone else Marcus Ray died that night as he was crossing the street to his favorite café. Marcus, had made a promise though and it was one he intended to keep. A long while have men attempted to see into death, to know of a fate after our mortal fate. Many theories, many legends, and many myths were constructed by mortal man about Death and his domain. One such thought on the subject, was that, if a spirit has unfinished business in the Land of the Living, then he or she will be condemned to the mortal plane, until this business was carried out. Maybe that’s why Hymnal found himself wake up to a pair of very ghostly, wild green eyes staring straight back at him.

“Could you beam me up? Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it. I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up. Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter, I think a minutes enough. Just beam me up.”

“You’re a ghost.” Were the first words the small British boy said after a minute of starring into the eyes of young and recently deceased man. At this, Marcus’ eyes widened comically, and if Hymnal hadn’t been so emotionally drained, from his tears, he would have laughed. “You promised to be there to save me every time.”

“Why do you think I am here, pet?” Marc said floating over the bed and looking down at the small boy, “I have a promise to keep.”

“Will you really keep it?” The boy asked his voice filled with innocent hope and curiosity.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“But I’m just a kid.” Hymnal said with a pout.

“No you’re not, pet. You’re a shining star.”

“Some black birds soaring in the sky, barely a breath like our one last sigh. Tell me that was you, saying goodbye.”

For the next few years, Hymnal and Marcus discovered that Marc wasn’t the only wandering shade that the younger Brit could see. The traveled around Britain with Hymnal’s parents and everywhere they went Hymnal would always gain a ghost story to tell.

“There are times I feel the shiver and cold, it only happens when I’m on my own. That’s how you tell me, I’m not alone.”

Eventually in an effort to find a place where Hymnal could actually fit in, his parents moved him to the one place they wanted to avoid. London. Hymnal quickly grew accustom to it’s much faster pace life style then the countryside. He made friends and his quirks, though they still made him special, were as noticeable in the city. It was easy for Marcus’ shining star to fade into the background. London was the sun, and Hymnal was just a star, light-years away, invisible in the daylight and surrounded by to many other stars to stand out at night. So for years that was how Hymnal lived, faded into the back ground.

“Could you beam me up? Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it. I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up. Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter, I think a minutes enough. Just beam me up.”

It wasn’t until years later when Hymnal lost the first grace. His older sister died in a plane crash on her way back from the states. Hymnal lost control. No one accept for his mother and his ghost could get within a fifty yard radius of him. He stayed in the attic for six months, barely eating, barely talking, and never smiling. His mom died a week after he came back downstairs to the main room of his family’s town house. The first grace was his family.

“In my head, I see your baby blues. I hear your voice and I, I break in two and now there’s one of me, with you. So when I need you, can I send you a sign. I’ll burn a candle and turn off the lights. I’ll pick a star and watch you shine.”

Tonight was the night he lost the second grace.

“Just beam me up? Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it. I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up. Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter, I think a minutes enough. Beam me up. Beam me up. Beam me up. Could you beam me up.” Hymnal opened his eyes to find Marc nowhere in the modest apartment that Hymnal was living in.

The buzzing was overwhelming, it was so much noise. The constant hum of the hornets filled the young boy’s ears as he tried to outrun the swarm of insects that were vibrating his thin and frail bones. All the lone child could see was the black and yellow wall the surround him, and even that was difficult to make out through the self produced crimson salt water that dripped from his eyes. The boy couldn’t breathe, at least not anymore. His throat was so swollen. It must have been the lack of oxygen that caused the boy to slacken in his frantic pace. Maybe if the insects hadn’t forced their way down the child’s throat and swollen up his airway, well maybe then it would have been different.

“Marc?”

The buzzing was overwhelming, it was so much noise. The constant hum of the hornets filled the young boy’s ears as he tried to outrun the swarm of insects that were vibrating his thin and frail bones. All the lone child could see was the black and yellow wall the surround him, and even that was difficult to make out through the self produced crimson salt water that dripped from his eyes. The boy couldn’t breathe, at least not anymore. His throat was so swollen. It must have been the lack of oxygen that caused the boy to slacken in his frantic pace. Maybe if the insects hadn’t forced their way down the child’s throat and swollen up his airway, well maybe then it would have been different. Either way, on December 5th, only seven years after his birth, Hymnal Regan Scott achieved brain death.

Hymnal shivered out of the grip of his memory and into the cold shock of reality. It’d been a long time since tiny Hymnal Scott dreamed about that day. He had this uneasy feeling, even though he saw the E.M.T. everyday. Still the tanned skinned boy was worried. See ever since that day, when Hymnal was brain dead he had been psychic, along with that came a few abilities, abilities like telepathy, heightened intuition, and when Hymn was threatened, telekinesis wasn’t far behind.

So Hymnal had lived day by day, doing whatever he could to help spirits move on, and all the while learning and growing. Marcus, the E.M.T. was exceptional help to the young boy. Marcus would explain certain things that spirits were able to do; he also explained why not every spirit was willing to move on. Actually Marc had a theory about why some spirit’s clung on to their past life.

“Spirits aren’t tied down. They were probably mistaken for gods in the old days. Being shocked into a world that their powers are nearly limitless?” Marc would say while making sure Hymnal wasn’t subjecting himself to take out food again, “Well being exposed to such power is scary. When we are humans we only experience a spark, as ghosts, we will experience the entire flame.”

Hymnal shot back, “Is that why you think I survived that day?”

“Maybe not, maybe you just thought “fuck this! I’m only seven!” But I think it was why you survived.

Thinking about Marc was the easiest way for Hymnal to fall back into the past. Probably why he started to think more and more about that day as he moved to his bathroom and watched his cat stretch and slink in after him.

‘The doctors were saying that I won’t wake up for a long time!’ A small boy thought avid with panic. The boy could feel the crawl of bugs on his skin and he wanted to shove the disgusting little insects away. His arms and legs felt like lead though. He knew his mommy was there, he heard her singing his favorite song earlier. She was crying. That’s why he wanted to move. “My mommy is crying! Mommy shouldn’t cry! I’ll be fine! Mommy!” the small little boy felt the thoughts burst from inside his head in a surge of warm and comforting heat. Anyone looking into the room at that moment would have seen a gorgeous dark skinned woman sit up as if she had been slapped, but only a moment after a small smile graced her lips. She looked to her husband who was yelling at the Doctor and her little girl only a few years older than the boy currently on the bed, but seemed to be glaring at the medical man with more fierceness then even her six and a half foot tall father could manage.

The woman moved and laid a gentle hand on her husband. Who instantly felt her empathetic nature take its hold and calm him. The little girl noticed the lack of yelling, so she picked it up immediately before her father squeezed her hand to silence her. The girl looked up, then moved to the bed where her younger brother was. She crawled in and whispered to her younger brother with fierceness that was seen rarely in the human species, “Next time I’ll protect you.”

That’s when Marcus introduced himself to the family for the first time. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Scott-“

“It’s Moreña and Garret to you, son!” Hymnal’s father admonished before pulling the young E.M.T. into a hug.

“Thank you so much for saving our boy!” Moreña, the dark skinned woman smiled and patted the shoulder of the young E.M.T.

“It’s my job, ma’am.” He replied politely, “I just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t starving yourselves. I know it’s stressful, but you have to eat, otherwise, Hymnal could wake up to one of you in this place. I spoke to the nurses and his condition is extremely stable for the trauma his body sustained. But if you want, I’ll stay with him while you make a quick trip to the store or to the cafeteria downstairs.”

“That’d be wonderful.” Garret said gratefully knowing that both he and his little spit-fire of a daughter wouldn’t eat otherwise.

Moreña gather her purse and her coat before pulling her little girl out of the room and calling back, “We’ll bring you something back!”

Garret nodded and quickly pointed out his number on the white bored, instructing the compassionate medic to call if there was any change. Marc nodded along before Mrs. Scott came back and ushered Mr. Scott out the door.

Marc moved to the bed and sat down. “You’ll be okay, kid. I promise.”

“Thank you, Marc.”

Marc looked up in shock to the swollen face of the boy only to see his eyes open and a small, painful looking, smile on the boy.

Marc smiled, “You are supposed to be in a coma.”

“You are supposed to be down at your rig.” Replied the intellectual seven year old.

“You aren’t supposed to be that smart.” Marc chuckled.

“I just died. I don’t care.” The seven year old said evenly although a small giggle was building up, “Will you be there to save me every time?”

“Yes, I will.” Marc knew that somewhere in his heart that he was telling the truth.

“Good.” With that the boy fell back asleep and took his new found intelligence with him.

“Marc, are you here, love?” the British kid said looking around his living room. “Marc, come on, I’m not playing you wanker!”

“Hello, pet.” Marc said, gliding lazily out of the kitchen, “How did you sleep.”

“I dreamed about the day we meant last night.” Hymnal said moving to put his palm up and out, towards Marc, who mirrored the movement therefore completing their daily ritual.

“Is that good, love?” Marc asked smiling and holding the mirror pose.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a weird feeling in my gut. I really don’t know what to think about this. Last time I dreamed about this, you went and-“

“I know, but that obviously can’t happen again. Don’t worry about anything. I’m not going anywhere.” Marc silenced Hymn as the younger male focused on the hand that was facing his own.

“You’re right, love. Absolutely right. I’m just obsessing over nothing I guess.” Hymnal smiled and meant Marc’s ghostly emeralds. “Okay, remember Marc, my friend from work, Patrice, she and I are going to that karaoke place down town.”

“I thought you said you hated karaoke?” Marc replied his eyebrows raising and shock obviously evident on his face.

“With every fiber of my being, but Patrice just broke up with Liam. She needs someone, and after all, it’s my job to get these sorry sods some closer.” The short boy said as he moved to the kitchen, “Is there anything you want today, Marc?”

“Pancakes!” Marc smiled brightly, in realization that Hymnal was going to cook whatever Marc asked for.

“Again, Marc? Aren’t you getting a little too old for the smiley-face pancakes?” Hymnal smiled at the older man’s childish behavior.

“Never!” Marc replied sticking out his tongue at the cook.

Hymnal didn’t understand how he was doing this…he was outside of his body and walking around. No one could see him either, and he wasn’t sure if that made this new found ability better or worse. But the seven year old knew he had to deal with it. Oddly enough, the boy found himself not in his hospital room starring at his family, but down stairs watch the E.M.T.

The E.M.T. was running about talking to his friends in an excited manor. Finally, after a few minutes he started making his way to the door. Hymn understood that he needed to follow him, after all he was somehow astral projecting himself into another area. Hymnal felt so strongly compelled to follow the man that he found that he actually beat the medic to his destination. The formally mentioned destination, turned out to be the across the street, a tiny little café that got more business than it should, considering it was right across from a hospital.

The lithe spectral of the small boy found himself sitting on a bench outside the café, waiting for Marcus the E.M.T. to cross the street. Finally the young medic saw an opening in the street. Maybe he was too used to the noises of blaring sirens, maybe not. But Hymnal quickly found himself, sitting up in his hospital, screaming out.

“Move!”

It was almost midnight before Hymnal returned home, which was already an extreme rarity, considering that the psychic rarely stayed out later then nine on week nights. Marcus was sitting watching t an old black and white film about Paris and romance. He chuckled under his breath when Hymnal slammed the door open and then gave a repeat performance when he closed the door.

Marcus however got a surprise when the antisocial boy came skipping and smiled brightly at Marc. He moved over and sat down on the couch with his leg tucked under his other one and he smiled as he held up his forceps in order to have the other male in the room mirror him.

“Usually the social scene has you more bonkers then Carrie Fisher.” Marcus said smiling at the obviously happy boisterous movement that the younger male was exhibiting.

“Well okay, so you know how my mum would sing to me at night or when I woke up from a nightmare? Well I guess I inherited her talent. It was absolutely amazing Marc. I sang and the entire pub just got real quiet to listen to me! And then they wanted me to stay on for the rest of the night. And I was so happy. I’ve never felt so…so special! It was amazing!”

“Oh really? Are you going to sing for me, pet?” Marcus asked curiously smiling at Hymnal’s excitement.

“What?” Hymnal said, taken by surprise. “No! No never!”

“Why not?” inquired the man with an ungodly pallor that made his questioning emeralds glow in the light of the television.

“Because you wouldn’t like it.” the much tanner male said pulling his own bright burgundy eyes away from Marcus’s penetrating glare.

“Love, I’m not a critic. And when was the last time you’ve done something I didn’t like? I liked your stories didn’t I?”

“That was different.” Was the shy, but immediate response.

“Why?”

“Because I could make those perfect! Besides, I wouldn’t know what to sing.”

“You’ve like Alicia Moore, sing one of her songs?”

“P!nk?” Hymnal looked startled, of course the boy hadn’t thought of that. He had listened to the singer before she was truly famous, and he could hum out any rhythm to match anyone of the American singer’s songs in an instant. Maybe that’s why he started to sing.

“There’s a whole n’other conversation going on.”

“Move!” Screamed the boy, but it was too late. Hymnal Scott could feel it in his bones.

Marcus was gone. It was ironic, actually. He was hit by an ambulance, a big red cross on the side. A man who turned to that cross daily, who used its definition to constantly heal the sick and injured, and yet his death was forced by that same symbol of healing. Hymnal, for the next few hours was in tears. It wasn’t fair, Hymnal’s life wasn’t more important than Marcus’ life, so why on earth was Marcus taken?

“In a parallel universe. Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts.”

Hymnal awoke that morning in the hospital after crying himself to sleep several hours ago. The Doctor’s attributed the weird actions that Hymnal’s family saw in the night to the coma and the poison from the hornets. But Hymnal knew better. As did Marcus.

“There’s a waltz playing, frozen in time. Blades of grass on tiny bare feet. I look at you and you’re looking at me.”

To everyone else Marcus Ray died that night as he was crossing the street to his favorite café. Marcus, had made a promise though and it was one he intended to keep. A long while have men attempted to see into death, to know of a fate after our mortal fate. Many theories, many legends, and many myths were constructed by mortal man about Death and his domain. One such thought on the subject, was that, if a spirit has unfinished business in the Land of the Living, then he or she will be condemned to the mortal plane, until this business was carried out. Maybe that’s why Hymnal found himself wake up to a pair of very ghostly, wild green eyes staring straight back at him.

“Could you beam me up? Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it. I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up. Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter, I think a minutes enough. Just beam me up.”

“You’re a ghost.” Were the first words the small British boy said after a minute of starring into the eyes of young and recently deceased man. At this, Marcus’ eyes widened comically, and if Hymnal hadn’t been so emotionally drained, from his tears, he would have laughed. “You promised to be there to save me every time.”

“Why do you think I am here, pet?” Marc said floating over the bed and looking down at the small boy, “I have a promise to keep.”

“Will you really keep it?” The boy asked his voice filled with innocent hope and curiosity.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“But I’m just a kid.” Hymnal said with a pout.

“No you’re not, pet. You’re a shining star.”

“Some black birds soaring in the sky, barely a breath like our one last sigh. Tell me that was you, saying goodbye.”

For the next few years, Hymnal and Marcus discovered that Marc wasn’t the only wandering shade that the younger Brit could see. The traveled around Britain with Hymnal’s parents and everywhere they went Hymnal would always gain a ghost story to tell.

“There are times I feel the shiver and cold, it only happens when I’m on my own. That’s how you tell me, I’m not alone.”

Eventually in an effort to find a place where Hymnal could actually fit in, his parents moved him to the one place they wanted to avoid. London. Hymnal quickly grew accustom to it’s much faster pace life style then the countryside. He made friends and his quirks, though they still made him special, were as noticeable in the city. It was easy for Marcus’ shining star to fade into the background. London was the sun, and Hymnal was just a star, light-years away, invisible in the daylight and surrounded by to many other stars to stand out at night. So for years that was how Hymnal lived, faded into the back ground.

“Could you beam me up? Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it. I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up. Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter, I think a minutes enough. Just beam me up.”

It wasn’t until years later when Hymnal lost the first grace. His older sister died in a plane crash on her way back from the states. Hymnal lost control. No one accept for his mother and his ghost could get within a fifty yard radius of him. He stayed in the attic for six months, barely eating, barely talking, and never smiling. His mom died a week after he came back downstairs to the main room of his family’s town house. The first grace was his family.

“In my head, I see your baby blues. I hear your voice and I, I break in two and now there’s one of me, with you. So when I need you, can I send you a sign. I’ll burn a candle and turn off the lights. I’ll pick a star and watch you shine.”

Tonight was the night he lost the second grace.

“Just beam me up? Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it. I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up. Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter, I think a minutes enough. Beam me up. Beam me up. Beam me up. Could you beam me up.” Hymnal opened his eyes to find Marc nowhere in the modest apartment that Hymnal was living in.

The buzzing was overwhelming, it was so much noise. The constant hum of the hornets filled the young boy’s ears as he tried to outrun the swarm of insects that were vibrating his thin and frail bones. All the lone child could see was the black and yellow wall the surround him, and even that was difficult to make out through the self produced crimson salt water that dripped from his eyes. The boy couldn’t breathe, at least not anymore. His throat was so swollen. It must have been the lack of oxygen that caused the boy to slacken in his frantic pace. Maybe if the insects hadn’t forced their way down the child’s throat and swollen up his airway, well maybe then it would have been different.

“Marc?”


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5 Reviews


Points: 1067
Reviews: 5

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Sun Dec 29, 2013 3:49 am
InkAndPaper wrote a review...



I actually love these types of stories, because the supernatural element makes me think 'what if?' It really sparks my imagination.

Just make sure your tenses are correct. You wrote, “You’ve like Alicia Moore, sing one of her songs?” I think that was supposed to be "You like Alicia Moore, sing one of her songs?"

You wrote, "... the obviously happy boisterous movement that the younger male was exhibiting." I feel like this line was a bit redundant because happy and boisterous are kind of the same thing.

This was nicely done though, it wasn't too short (for my taste) and it had a nice flow.




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303 Reviews


Points: 11152
Reviews: 303

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Mon Feb 25, 2013 10:09 pm
StoneHeart wrote a review...



Ah, there's one HUGE problem in this story.

It's two copies of the same thing . . . one, then the next. Easy to fix, but hard to read. I'd advise working on it.

Ah, I'm going to leave all the fine points of your grammar to some other YWS member to individually point out to you, but I will generalize. You have a way of taking one word and replacing it, as an example. Manor, instead of: Manner.
You also use the word 'male' WAY too much. And it sounds wrong with how Marcus calls Hymn 'love'.

Your idea seems interesting though.

Your style is a bit hard to read. I want to know what happened at the pub . . . really, I WANT TO KNOW. It seems interesting, but you just skipped it.

Also, it seems to cut off at the end.

Also, I want more detail (I know, I know). I want to know what people look like, what the house looks like. Everything. I as a reader want to be able to immerse myself into a story, and without details I can't do that.
At all.

Now this was a good start for a prologue. It has the history that's needed and I like that.

I'm really finding myself enjoying it, getting pulled in.
However I advise you to do something about the copies of the same thing.

That really looks bad.

Good work, I really did enjoy this.

Keep writing!




jaxalexander says...


I thought it seemed off. And I know my grammar sucks, I wanted to use male in order to flat out say the word ghost, I suppose there is a better way. Thank you. I'll fix this as much as I can.




Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we're quoting.
— John Green