WHO: Ethan and...an unexpected ghostuest WHEN: New Years Eve, late night WHERE: Ethan's place WHAT: The voice he's been hearing all week is explained. WARNING: None.
He couldn't stop looking at the picture. He'd bought it for Casper, but he hadn't seen her since Christmas, so he'd decided to keep it. He found himself staring, counting the hairs, wondering how someone could craft something so beautiful out of something so mundane.
Hair. It was hair.
He let his fingers trace the old frame, the black lacquered wood smooth and warm beneath his touch. It felt alive. The first whisper came the day after Christmas, just his name, and he'd brushed it off with a shiver. It was nothing.
Then the whispers started. Then they started begging.
It was New Year's. He'd agreed to go to a friend's party, simply because he hadn't been out almost all of Christmas break.
Please.
He started, glancing over to the table the frame sat on. He didn't know what to do. Walking over, he picked it up, shaking slightly. He thought briefly of smashing it, but he didn't. Instead, he stared at it, feeling his heart wrench in his chest.