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©2017 by GWEILO. Proudly created by Zoé Manset, Edouard Chardot, Céleste Judet, Logan de Raspide Ross, Sidney Jones.

A Blank Ghost

‘I love you’ she says as she wraps her arms around his neck. Hid eyes do not move towards her. They stare sternly forward.

 

He’s in his bed again, staring forward at the ceiling. The pain racing through his body is not shown in his eyes. Was he ever going to be able to lead a normal life?

 

He dreams again. Walls, mountains, continents, collapse all around him. This is the power his love holds. His bleeding heart slowly loses the last few drops of blood it withholds. Pierced by the needles and pins love represents, he is left with nothing. His eyes shoot straight ahead.

 

He’s sitting in the bus. Staring forward still. The bus door opens and in she walks, like spring strolling through a long, cold winter; returning the gold and green stolen from nature. The world seems to stop. The doors close and she walks by him, without acknowledging him in the least of ways. For the first time in years, we can discern a man crying in his eyes. But as soon as this vision occurs, it disappears, his eyes staring forwards.

 

He dreams yet again. This time, there is nothing. He is surrounded by emptiness. Dullness. This is his life. And in she comes. Everything becomes her, and he starts convulsing. He is getting squished together by unknown exterior forces, forcing him into the smallest shape possible. He is practically invisible when she passes him. As she leaves his mind, he slowly becomes what he was before. Everything returns to a dull emptiness.

 

He sits on the bus again. This time, his eyes flicker as the door opens. He has practiced for this moment millions of times in his dreams. But she doesn’t walk in. The door closes and he is left alone again.

 

He lies in bed. Staring at the blank ceiling. His hands blindly reach for the light and he turns it on. He sits up and looks about his room. Should he disappear, there’d be no trace of him. Everything was blank. There were no personal belongings of any sort. Just dullness. He turns the light off and lies back down.

 

His head is about to explode. The doors have opened. She walks in. A vivid wave of relief brushes over him, before a nail is forced through his heart again. There she is. He gets up but falls back down. She stops and looks at him. He gets up again.

“Hello, my name is James,” he stutters, “I’ve seen you get on this bus every morning and,” ‘bad start, what do you wanna do? Creep her out?’ “Look, I just wanted to talk to you… I…” The words don’t come out. She says,

“‘Hum, I’m quite busy right now, but if you want… I’ll arrange an appointment later. What’s your phone number?’” He is dazzled. He blurts it out and she says “‘bye.’”

 

She’s there. She’s everything. He isn’t even present anymore. Everything is just her now.

 

He fidgets in his seat. He glances out the window rapidly. Yes, she’s getting on. He’s going to meet her later today, and he just wants to disappear. How should he react? Should he say hi? These are things he wonders. She get’s in the bus.

“‘Hello,’” she smiles. He meekly answers. “‘May I sit here?’” She asks.

“Hum, yes, of course…”

“‘So what’s your name? I didn’t quite get it. James what?’”

“Uh, James Fhive…”

“‘Oh, like the number?’”

“Spelled with an ache.”

 

‘Fool, fool, fool! What a fool am I!'

He waits in the waiting room. He’s going to meet her when she comes out. They are going to talk.

 

His dreams are shattered. She was laughing with another man in a small cafe. ‘You were a fool to think she loved you! You were a fool to think you had a chance!’ He shakes all over and walks by the cafe.

 

This time he’s laughing and eating with her. But she isn’t real. She doesn’t say a word as he doesn’t know what she should say.

 

He would now frequently open up to her. They’d talk for hours. She was wonderful. Time went by, and he met her more and more frequently. She said that she was pleased with him. Did that mean she loved him?

 

It’s been a month since he first talked to her, and she’s going to take him out to dinner. He doesn’t know how this will unfold. What will he say? What will he do? These are things he wonders.

 

He loves her, that is beyond doubt. He is going to ask her to marry him. ‘She doesn’t love you, you know that! Why ask her to marry you if you aren’t engaged! Or dating for that matter!’ And yet, what if she loved him? She opens the door to her office and he takes her by the hand. She giggles and looks around her. Out on the street, he tells her in a wavering voice,

“I need to tell you something.” He pulls her away from the crowd and says, “I love you… And it fills me with defeat and sorrow.” He looks at her, and for the first time ever, she sees the man crying linger in his eyes. She is surprised. She is disturbed.

“‘Hum, look, I like you a lot, but… Are you sure you want this? Look, I think you should go home, take a long night’s sleep and think about it, okay? It’s not a no… But it isn’t a yes either, okay?’” She leaves.

 

His world is shattered. He is held down by a great being, one with enough power to shake entire planets. This is love. It has broken him. He is helpless. He is broken. His innards are bubbling, he just wants to tear the world down. But he cannot, he cannot hold together, he cannot act anymore.

 

The next day, she sits next to him in the bus. But no conversation arises. She doesn't dare speak and nor does he. Both pretend nothing happened in the weeks that follow But life is drained out of their relation. She is nowhere near as warm with him when they talk in her office any longer.

 

Love slowly chokes the life out of him. He is helpless. He hangs from the ceiling of his room. When police arrive, the two elements marked down as describing the person are the noose, and the note, left for her. Or as the police called her: his psychologist.

When it gets shown to her, she looks down at the scribbled incomprehensible handwriting. She blankly stares forward. But he is there, and whispers ‘I love you’ into her ear as she wraps her arms around his neck.

 

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