Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Dead Boy (Pt. 2 of ?)

Neiro was an odd one, simple, cheerful, optimistic, amiable, adaptable, flexible, and wore his heart on his sleeve, yet not lacking in confidence. Assertive not in perspective nor belief, but with friends.

It was his short flatmate whom had been unrelenting and prompted his return to the academy. The brunette grimaced, whether it was for better or worse, he had yet to decide.

Always there, a comforting shoulder to lean against and of open ear and mind. Despite his lacking stature, his arms were ever able to envelope him in their embrace, a soothing warmth emanating from him.

Yet there was something strange.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Dead Boy (Pt. 1 of ?)

The Dead Boy by C.M.G

He lives under my bed, and in my closet
Sometimes I see him in the bottom of the old chipped cookie jar in the kitchen.
Yesternight, when this little poltergeist appeared, a tiny little thing he was and floating just above the ground as he ran, I spoke to him.
His footsteps were light, and he hugged into himself and the worn plush animal he always had in his arms, as if trying to escape notice. And he would've were it not for the slightest of ethereal glow that belied his preternatural presence in his otherwise very normal appearance.
He could almost pass off as a normal boy had it not been for that, and the slight translucence of his form.
But the moment my voice broke the silence of the night, did he whisk around, eyes large, and vanish. Fading out of existence.
I shuddered, an icy trickle down my spine though no winds blew.
And he was gone.
But he wasn't gone.
He couldn't leave.
He's tried. I would know.
Though what I knew not, were the shackles which chain him here. Bound to this forsaken place now forgotten.
Often when he isn't to be found by the jar, it was the large windows of my bedroom.
Even though I had moved some few years past, he never since spoken a word but that first night.
If only known more then, would I have stayed my tongue-

"-and given unto him what succor he beseech, a strange, but simple request then. The matter would've resolved quickly. Had I not been so foolish." drawled a voice that followed a storyteller's intonation, yet oddly laced with a bored monotone, "Bedtime, children."