FicWad

London sat on her bed, listening to her favourite band, Fallen Angels. They shouted the lyrics to their song harshly, and then they were singing quietly, almost whispering. If London had to compare their music to anybody's, she would say that it was like a female version or My Chemical Romance.
"You know, I remember the day I found out. It was the worst day of my life, then I got to go home. Didn't go away of course. I'm still here and dying."
"Are you happy? You should be?"
"I think you'll make it. It'll go away."
"I'll come visit you, when I get out, of course."
These were the words that lots of other cancer patients had said to London before she had left the hospital. These were the words that had stuck in her head and replayed over and over again. The words made her melancholy, but she was alone by now. She wouldn't be entirely alone, but her one best friend, Indy, was on vacation.
"Lynny!!!" London's mom called. "Lynny" was her nickname. "Come down here a minute! I have to talk to you!" London sighed and sat up. She fumbled in the dark for her radio remote, and shut the music off.
"Coming!!" She hollered back.
She tripped as she was getting off of her bed and walked into the wall beside her door.
"Ow! Not the door!" she groaned. She grabbed the doorknob and stepped into the hot, dry air of the downstairs that wasn't air conditioned. She grunted and stated walking slowly down the stairs, into the kitchen, where her mom was holding pots and pans and kicking a box a couple of feet across the floor.
"Hi, Sweetie. How are you doing? Do you want me to make you something to eat? I'm hungry and I'm going to make something for me, but if you want something, I'll just make dinner now." London's mom, Grace, tried to take a step toward London, but she tripped on another box and she, along with all the pots and pans, went crashing to the ground. Grace clambered to pick the pots and quickly gave up. She stood and looked down and London.
"I'm ok, Mommy. I'll make something later," London replied, bending down to help her mom.
When all the pots and pans were picked up and put away, London went back upstairs. She sat gently on the edge of her bed and whispered, "I hate moving." She and Grace had had to move because Grace wanted to put all of the bad things, like London's father, who was an alcoholic, and the day they first found out the London had cancer. After a minute, London realized that she still hadn't been in the attic, because her mom always yelled at her when she tried to go.
They had only been in their new house for a week, but London was tired of it already. While her mom was distracted, she tip-toed out of her bedroom and the rest of the way up the stairs, into the dark hallway that led to the attic.
She crept to the door and carefully turned the doorknob. She pushed the door, which squeaked slightly and walked in, being sure to leave the door cracked when she walked in. She saw a bar, with a mirror behind it and 4 dusty old stools. She also saw a collection of old whiskey and vodka bottles, aged and covered in dust. It took a minute for her to realize that the bottles must have been older than she was, because the house they moved in was Victorian.
She walked over and gently wiped the dust off of one of the bottles. Behind her, she saw boxes, some covered by sheets, some dusty and open. Others were boxes that must have belonged to her mother, because they weren't dusty or covered and they were clearly marked with sharpie markers.
All of a sudden, London heard a soft and muffled bang as something fell behind her. She hastily spun around to look at the area from which the noise came. She didn't see anything but a stack of boxes with a dusty sheet lying next to it. The sheet was on the boxes a split second before. London's eye brow's involuntarily furrowed in confusion.
She couldn't figure out what had just happened. She heard another noise, softer this time, coming from behind that bar. She shifted her glance from the boxes to the bar. After a couple of seconds, a tall man with a very pale complexion stepped out from behind the bar.
London took in his appearance before she even attempted to speak. He was tall, taller than she had realized at first. He had to be at least 6 foot tall. He had short, copper, mussed up hair. He was also wearing what looked like some kind of a soldier's uniform. He had on black polished shoes and blue dress pants that had a green stripe down the side and a matching blue shirt with long sleeves and a green stripe. It had gold buttons up the middle. He had on a black belt and what looked like a black belt across his chest. He was defiantly a soldier, possibly from the civil war. After looking for a moment, she realized that he was see through. For a second, she panicked and couldn't figure out what to do about the weird, see-through guy, but then she calmed and tried to talk reasonably.
"Hi? Um...why are you in my house?" she asked carefully.
"HA! Why am I in your house? Why are you in my house?" the man asked, stunned that she would accuse him of being in her house. He was actually angry. She tried again.
"Ok. My mom and I just bought this house and it's been for sale for at least 3 months. I'm London and my mom's name is Grace. Now, who are you?"
"London? Pft. Like the city? ...okay... I'm John and my mother owns this house. I live here with her and my 2 bothers. My last brother, James, the oldest, just died, last month, " the man explained.
"Um...No. Your mother doesn't live here. Neither do your brothers. I live here with my mother. We just moved here to get away from my father. He was abusive... I don't know why I just told you that." She added, quietly. John walked over to a café table that was sitting in the middle of the room and sat down on one of the dusty stools.
"John? Um...why are you see-through?" London asked curiously.
John looked down at himself and said, "I'm not see-through. What are you talking about?" John asked, stifling a laugh at how immature she sounded.
"Oookkay. You think that." London told him, smiling at his foolishness. He was clearly see-through. London wouldn't have thought that anything was strange if she hadn't been able to see herself through him in the mirror.
John snorted and gave her a dirty look.
"Honestly! If you don't think you are stand up and looking the mirror!" London exclaimed. John gave her an exasperated look that said "I'm finished with you." He stood up and turned around, looking toward the mirror. His face grew slack as he realized that he could see London through himself, and that he could only see the faint outline of himself. Ha sat back down and buried his face in his hands. I walked over and tried to rub his back, but when I did, my hand went right through him and landed on the table in front of him. I shivered. It had felt like I had stuck my hand in a bucket of ice.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" London exclaimed.
John shook his head. "It doesn't matter..."
"Do you...um...do you remember a funeral? Or dying?...What's the last thing you can remember?" London asked carefully, trying not to hurt his feelings or make him remember something he didn't want to.
He thought for a moment and looked into London's eyes. Wow. She was absolutely stunned. She didn't think that a ghost could convey so many emotions. Especially with just one glance.
"Honestly? The last thing I remember...I remember being at a funeral. A man was in the coffin. I'm sure it was my brother-he looked just like me. Thinking back now though, it couldn't have been my brother, because I remember having been at my brother's funeral once already. Why and how would we have another one? I remember having a bird's eye view. I was above the man in the coffin. My momma was crying and I went and stood beside her, putting my hand on her back. She didn't notice me, though. She was crying and I heard her say 'no one's near me now-I've lost them all' and she cried some more. It was really quite cold. I'm really quite cold right now, actually..." John's voice trailed off.
"Um-How old are-were-um...what age...erm..." London couldn't figure out what to say. "What year were you born?"
"Me? I was born in 1835." He replied.