Buddy

This flash fiction piece was written as a story companion to the day 25 drawing prompt Buddy from the 2020 Inktober prompt list. Click here to see the drawing.

While she walked, her mind wandered over the decaying ruins of broken memories. As usual.

When she realized her thoughts were traveling places she normally kept under lock and key, she mentally kicked herself, shaking her head as if it could dissipate them.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The ghost living in her backpack asked as it oozed from the zipper like smoke from dry ice, winding its way around and down her arm like a snake.

She ignored him.

“Hmmm, or should I say … who are you thinking about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” She snapped and shook him off.

“Geeze, I’m just asking,” The ghost said.

“And I'm just saying shut up.”

“God, what crawled into your backpack and died.”

“Last I checked it was a mouthy little beast who better watch it or he'll be looking for another hermit shell to squat in, and I really doubt the next one will be available from L.L. Bean.”

“Did I hit a nerve, precious?”

In one fluid motion, she shrugged off her backpack, pulled out her lighter, and held the flame underneath the satchel threateningly.

Immediately, Gary flew off her arm in a mock mourning ritual, funeral wail and all.

“Nooo, anyone but herrrrr!!!”

His joke made her chuckle so she extinguished the lighter.

“Alright, nerd, you can stay.”

“Yeah, as long as I don't talk about your ex.”

She clicked the lighter again and was met with silence.

Pack and phantom intact, they carried on down the crumbling highway, past rusted out cars and military vehicles that stalled out during evacuations decades prior.

“He's not my ex.”

“Well, what else do you call that?”

She stopped walking.

“My friend.”

It made her entire stomach clench down like a steel trap, the truth of it, the raw honesty breaking free inside her. She lost her best friend before she ever knew she had one.

“Awww, was he your special ‘lil buddy?”

“Shut up, Gary, I’m sick of your mouth today.”

The ghost floated in front of her and mimed wiping a tear, “I don't understand why you insist on being so hurtful.”

She wiggled her arms and hands in front of her, diffusing his form.

“Ouch! You know that stings!”

“Yeah, so does this topic. I'm done talking about it.”

One stupid tear fell onto her leather coat with a sad little splat. Gary floated up and sat on her shoulder, but thankfully did not ask for a cracker.

“I'm sorry,” he said it softly, one paw trailing uselessly through her hair.

“I can almost imagine feeling that.”

“I wasn't that great, was I? Before I died?”

“You made a better human, that's for sure.”

“Ah, but now we get to be together forever. Weeee!” He flew around her head in a failed attempt to entertain, or at least to lighten the mood.

“It's not real, this way,” She blurted, bluntly.

Gary stopped swooping.

“I feel real.”

“That's the problem.”

“Will you tell me what it was like, before I died? I want to remember.”

She tried to stop it, to keep it out, but it all rushed in at once and took the breath straight from her gut like a slow motion punch, doubling her over: the laughter, the connection, the understanding, even in silence … entire conversations shared across rooms with just a look, and the sun shining straight into her heart like a laser beam; like the only spotlight she ever wanted to stand under.

She could hear the ghost calling her name, faintly, as from under rushing water. It made her want to drown.

Keep going, is what she heard from somewhere else … somewhere more herself.

Straightening up, she shook all over like a wet dog, trying to cast off the pall that always overtook her when she let in how much it hurt to lose so much.

“You okay?”

Gary's concern was kind, but plastic, like everything the ghost of him offered.

“Yeah, Gary. Just tired. What did you say before?”

“Just that I'd like to remember.”

Silence except for worn out boots over well-worn gravel.

“Nah, you wouldn't. Now do that swooping thing again ... that was wild.”

Successfully distracted, Gary went back to swooping and lobbing playful insults.

She sighed.

At least ghosts are entertaining