writing_shadows

((Just a short fiction to help me work out Billy's mind set a bit more.))

Billy sat cross-legged on the floor nursing a large glass on brandy; next to him on the floor laid the empty bottle. Using the back of his hand he wiped away the tears from his cheeks but his bloodshot eyes still stung and he could not hold back the tears. From behind him the wailing continued, the voice always changing and the plea always different. Sometimes it was just too much.

With an effort, Billy moved from the floor to the sofa, drinking what was left of the brandy, he savoured the warm sensation as it ran through his chest.

“Shut up!” Billy screamed, turning on the sofa to face the Lost. “Please just shut up! I can’t help you all...” The Lost just stood there, its current form on an elderly man with thin blue lips and small icicles clinging to his hair.

“Help me Billy,” the Lost rasped, its breath forming a cloud of mist despite the warmth in the apartment, “You helped the others, you are always helping others, why won’t you help me?”

“Please just shut up!” Billy throw the glass across the room at the old man, it just passed straight through and smashed on the wall behind. It didn’t matter anyway, the old man vanished now and was replaced with a weeping woman, she was young and beautiful, but there was smoke rising from her clothes, her skin in places was burnt black and her hair, oh her hair was burnt almost completely away.

“Save me Billy, I need you to save me.” The burnt woman just stood there looking at Billy, her eyes full of agony, “I beg you save me from the fire.” She pleaded with him but her words full on ears that could do nothing. Billy simply turned in his seat and stared at the floor, more alcohol was in the kitchen, but that meant walking passed her... Passed the Lost and he just didn’t have the strength to do that. So he sat there on the sofa weeping. He could do what he always did, that was write, in front of him lay the script for Kate, nearly finished, the greatest gift he could think to give her. Next it were other forms, other plans to help and give to other people.

“Rescue me Billy...” The voice of a child from behind him, he couldn’t handle looking to see its new form. Instead he ran a hand through his hair and pulled hard, unfortunately he was awake, this was reality. With a sigh, he picked up the script and the pen and began to scribble on it, highlighting what he liked and what he wanted to change.

He wondered if he was lonely, but how could he be with all those people asking for help. He wondered what he could do to make himself happier, but the answer was nothing because there would always be people who needed help from him, there would always be ghosts and there would always be the Lost.