Mocksi Brownby
Jason_CrossComment by K3Master: He stood for the photograph, but wasn't happy about it. In fact, deep down, he was terrified. They'd never tried anything before, but this evening he was getting a very malevolent feel from them. Those three. A sort of icy chill that froze his bones and threatened to stop his heart.
They'd been his best of friends. From early teenage jams in the garage, to the formation of the band that would rocket them to stardom, they'd been as tight as a group could be. They believed they would live forever. They believed that they were untouchable.
So when he had fallen asleep at the wheel of their tour van, in an attempt to get back to their roots and see the country from a more personal point of view, and had been the only survivor of that horrible crash, he thought it was his own guilt that would be his undoing. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Now, everywhere he went, trying desperately to save a solo career and get his life back on track, they followed him. The friends that weren't his friends any more. The ghostly apparitions that haunted his every move. That followed his every step. That kept him awake at night, or caused him to wake from the little sleep he did finally fall exhaustingly into screaming from the nightmares that consumed him.
For all of that, however, they had so far just been ghosts. Ghosts of his past, of his failure. Harmless memories of that fateful accident.
He stood for the photograph, but knew something had now changed, and their presence grew stronger and that chill and hatred began to penetrate him, and suddenly he knew that they would be harmless no more.
He stood for the photograph, and the next day, when he was found in bed, passed on, his face frozen in a rictus of pain, they blamed it on the inability to forget his past and the addictions he had gained because of it.
But for the three fading beings standing around his bed, unnoticed by the ones still living, they knew better...
... and they finally claimed the last of their own.