Stream of Consciousness

Zen glanced over at her brother again. “Seriously? You’re changing views again? I swear you have the attention span of a gnat.”

Chaos just giggled.

Raithe sighed and rolled his eyes when the shrink that the Special Victim’s Unit had contacted came into the children’s interrogation room and said, “Save yourself some time. I’m not crazy or suicidal. I was just having some fun.”

“Leaping onto the top of a moving subway train and rolling off to the other side of the tracks is what you consider fun? You could have been killed,” the psychiatrist responded as he took a seat across from the adolescent.

Raithe laughed, “Sorry. Already done that. You can only die once. True, this body can become injured and even force me back into the etheric but I’m already dead Doc. So, you don’t need to worry about me. There’s plenty of kids out there who really need your help.”

“So, you believe you’re already dead? My name is Dr. Montavier by the way but you can just call me Jarrel, that’s what most of the children I work with do. Or Doc is fine. Whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

“Hold up a minute!” Zen exclaimed. “How can that be Dr. Montavier when Jarrel is back in Land’s End with his brother? You changed the entire stream of consciousness again?” she asked, though she hadn’t seen Chaos do it.

Chaos shook his head. “Nope. Just watch. All will be made clear. For the one who is supposed to be patient, you’re not very patient, sister.”

Zen bridled at the insult. “I’m not being impatient. I’m trying to understand your chaotic mind and actions.”

Chaos shook his head again. “You can’t understand because you don’t think or see the way that I do. You view everything linearly due to your nature. I don’t and therefore can see links not only to the present and past, as you do but also to future events. Just sit back and watch and calm down.”

“I am calm,” Zen said, though she had to admit that he had gotten her a little worked up which shouldn’t have been possible. So, Zen turned quiet, pondering that, while she watched to see what would happen next.

“I am dead. I’m a ghost. Well, technically a wraith but I go by the name Raithe, so it’s easier for you to just consider me a ghost.” He then spelled the name out.

“What is the difference? Aren’t they the same thing–ghost and wraith?”

Raithe rolled his eyes again. “If they were the same then I wouldn’t have pointed out the technicality. No, they’re not the same. Why have two words that mean exactly the same thing? That’s stupid. True, the words are often used as synonyms, but there are variations in the meanings. A wraith feeds off life-force energy. A ghost is simply a lost soul who hasn’t realized he or she has passed on yet or has but has unfinished business and won’t leave the earth plane. And that’s my definition by the way born of experience as opposed to Meriam Webster.”

“So, you feed off life-force energy? How does that work?” Jarrel asked, deciding to play along for the moment.

“There’s no real effort involved or even conscious intent. Though, like how a human breathes, wraiths can do so unconsciously or consciously. Mostly I just soak up the excess frenetic energy that is flung about by humans when in high states of emotion but I can also purposefully drain energy from an individual, and even wither them. That’s when I place my hand on someone, and through a willing act, drain them dry, turn them into a pile of dust. I didn’t look like this in life. My size is the same but my skin is now a light grey and my hair is silver and my eyes have turned a teal color. When I was alive, I was a blue-eyed and blond-haired Caucasian. I also look the same age as I died–thirteen but I’ve been dead for about a year now.”

“How did you die and why didn’t you just become a ghost? Does something special occur to make someone a wraith after they die? You mentioned a ghost typically doesn’t know he or she is dead or they have unfinished business. So, why a wraith?” Jarrel asked.

Raithe shrugged. “It wasn’t out of choice. My parents were part of a satanic cult. My father was the leader, and I was the victim of a sacrificial ritual. Twelve other children–the firstborn of the other cult member married pairs–were sacrificed. I was the thirteenth. The ritual was intended to turn me into a wraith which my father hoped to control. For what purpose, I don’t know? I wasn’t made privy to their plans. All I know is that something went wrong and the binding spell didn’t work which would have allowed my father to control me and force me to do his bidding.

“I was pretty angry at what they had all done, so I withered the entire group. Not consciously. It was an act of rage, and when I came out of it, there were only twenty-six piles of dust remaining of the cult members, along with my dead body and those of the twelve other kids. I didn’t wither them. When I saw what I had done and saw my own dead body, I became frightened, turned into a wispy form and fled. The only reason I knew I was a wraith was the discussion my father was having with the others during the ritual. I didn’t know what I was capable of right off; what it meant to be a wraith. I do now.”

“Well, why don’t you give me the name you went by in life and where this ritual took place so that I can verify your story?” Jarrel asked.

“Why? There’s nothing you can do about it. Why can’t you just take my word for it? If you find my skeleton and those of the other kids and piles of bone dust lying around in a circle, are you going to suddenly believe me? Raithe asked.

“I’d be closer to believing you if you gave some proof, Raithe. I do believe that ghosts exist because I can see auras and ghosts when I’m in the same area as one. You look very solid to me. The police were able to put you in handcuffs. Why didn’t you just turn wispy and flee?”

“I get lonely. So, sometimes I interact with people; pretend I’m still alive,” Raithe explained. “I wasn’t worried what the police would do with me. I can’t be locked up; at least not permanently. I just wraith when I want to escape a room or cuffs. I simply didn’t feel like escaping.”

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