It's the new story I'm working on! Chapter 1 isn't done yet, so bear with me. Prologue Dad died of a heart disease. And that’s when it all began. I was four years old, and I still didn’t know anything about the world. My mother’s name was Christine, and she opted to move out of the condominium my family was currently living in. She needed my father’s support to pay for the rent. But Dad wasn’t here right now. He was gone. The wake was held at the old house we bought for a reasonable price, right out of the city, and into a quaint little town where trees overshadowed the lonely streets with their ever-growing branches, since Christine couldn’t afford to rent a Church anymore. The casket was already expensive to begin with. I shivered as I looked out of the window, for they looked like they could take me out of my safe home in any minute. My eyes wandered across the living room, and met Micah, my brother two years older than me. He sat along the stairs with his coat and tie on, observing the strangers quietly as they passed by. Once he saw me looking, he glared at me, making me run to Christine, who was busy entertaining the guests in her long black dress. “…yes, he was a good man,” she agreed, wiping the tears from her face with the tissue she clutched tightly. She was conversing with them, and yet her expression looked so distance, as if there was something else on her mind that was bothering her. I tugged at her dress. “Mommy, Micah’s scaring me again,” I whined with my little voice, pointing to my brother, who abruptly looked away from me. Christine shook her head, giving me a slight push out of the circle of adults she was in. With a sad smile forever engraved on her face, she sighed, “Go out and play, sweetie. Mommy’s busy now. There’s a nice swing over there, why don’t you go try it out?” I took a deep breath, crossing my arms and stomping out of the house. There were no more guests outside, and all I saw was an empty, green backyard with a solitary swing hanging on the huge oak tree. I fell to the grass, observing the ants on the soil. I pinched the one that attempted to climb up my pink skirt. Suddenly, a cold gush of wind swirled around the air, making my head snap up immediately. The backyard wasn’t empty anymore. Sitting numbly on the swing was a tall young man. His shoulder length brown hair fell across his cheek, hiding his face. I stared at him curiously. He wasn’t dressed accordingly, just a plain white buttoned shirt and black pants. The shirt itself wasn’t nice to look at, as it was smeared with dust and had ripped sleeves. He looked down on his hands on his lap. I stood up and walked closer to him, thinking to ask if he wanted to play with me, because he seemed lonely and depressed. As I took my first step, he looked at me. I stopped where I was, and gawked at him some more. I noticed that his eyes were green, like the grass I stepped on. His face was pale, almost gray, even. The expression he had on it was pure sadness, even with the surprise he showed as he gazed at me. He squinted and examined me from head to toe, tilting his own head to the side. I smiled and came closer. He didn’t move, and still stared at me in shock as I walked. His face confused me. “Do I have something on my nose?” I asked him, which was probably the reason why he looked at me in an odd way. He kept silent, and I asked some more questions. “You look sad. Do you want to play with me? I’m sad too, my daddy died,” I said, trying to get him to talk. I waited patiently, still looking at his face. Finally, his mouth opened to say something, but it was barely a whisper. He struggled for the right words to say. “Yes. I’m sad.” “Why?” “I’m dead, too.” I fell backward, but he reached out a hand hesitantly and grabbed mine before I touched the ground. He let go too soon, and horror filled his eyes as he examined his hands and arms. I examined my own as well. They were cold. Once he was done, he gazed at me again, now in understanding and acceptance. His mood lightened, and he grinned. “What’s your name?” “Riley Montclair,” I answered, smiling back. He repeated my name slowly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Riley Montclair.” “What’s your name?” I questioned the same thing, with my smile widening. He touched my natural black curls, and the red ribbons that held it. He seemed pleased with what he felt. “Damien. Just Damien.” “Do you want to play with me, Damien?” I asked again. Damien nodded, standing up from the swing. I observed his content pale face. He picked me up with his frigid hands and placed me on the seat of the swing. He walked behind me and started to push. I was flying. Although from the windows of the house, I saw a pair of eyes watching me. Chapter 1 Theodore Ashcroft, whom I fondly call Theo, waited for me in his brand new SUV, something he got for his seventeenth birthday. I met him the same day of the wake of my father, and he’s been one of my best friends ever since. From the porch window, I gestured for him to wait for me longer, since I wasn’t done packing my things. I searched desperately for my copy of Hamlet under the dusty couch. “Mom! Have you seen my Hamlet book?” I yelled to the kitchen, where Christine was making pancakes. “I’m running late and I need that for English!” “I think you left it in your room, honey!” she yelled back. Micah had already left for school, leaving me to fend for myself. I ran up to the stairs and into my room, falling to my knees to look for the book under my bed. “Looking for this?” a voice from behind me said. I jumped up and hit my head on the bed frame. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” I yelped, rubbing my scalp and fixing my long, wavy hair, then turning to glare at the person. “Would you stop hiding my stuff? It’s getting me late for class!” Damien stood there, with a smirk on his face. He was still much taller than me, even after thirteen years, lanky in person, but his light shirt showed muscles under. “Sorry, I can’t help but read your books. They’re interesting.” He chuckled privately as I grabbed the book from him. There he was, still the nineteen year old boy I met when I was four. He laughed again, messing up my hair while he was at it. I scowled, glowering at him. “I didn’t think dead people could be so annoying,” I muttered, stuffing Hamlet into my backpack. “Face it, Riley, you like the fact I hang around here,” said Damien proudly. “Well, more than the little boy under Micah’s bed and the old lady that yells at you from the window while you take a shower. At least I don’t do that to you, even if I could. “You wouldn’t dare,” I spat. “I could punch you anytime, anyway.” He crossed his arms around his chest, and stared at me with his emerald green eyes again, like that time thirteen years ago. “What?” I said, irked. Damien merely smiled. “It’s nothing.” “Idiot ghost,” I replied, making sure he would hear it. I walked out of the room and stormed down the stairs, ignoring Jake’s mocking. I shouted goodbye to Christine and ran toward Theo’s monster of a car. I sighed as I sat on the front seat beside my friend. “Sorry,” I apologized sincerely. “Damien was being a nut hiding Hamlet from me. And Jake was yelling at me again.” Theo snickered as he started the engine, talking to me as he drove. Theo was my neighbor, and he was the only person who knew I had the sixth sense, who knew I could see the dead. He was also the sole witness who saw me talking to Damien out in the backyard, watching everything unravel before his own eyes. “No one says it was easy living in a house full of ghosts.” “Thank God it isn’t full. I could barely live with three,” I said, rolling up the sleeves of my green sweater. The clouds were covering the sky darkly again, and most likely it was going to rain. I wore my black hoodie just in case. I continued my rant. “Damien’s alright, but Jake and Old Lady Smithson could get tiresome. The woman screams practically every night, while Jake screams every morning. They’re so loud; I can’t even hear myself think anymore! I hate it.” “Not Damien,” Theo playfully reminded. I turned to look at him slowly, irritated. His messy short hair was as dark as my raven-colored locks, although his was brown in the sunlight. He was also as pale as me, and people would mistake us as twins because of that. I looked more like Theo than I did so with Micah, my own brother. I growled. “Don’t start with me, Theo!” “Alright, alright! I was just kidding, Ri. I’m just thankful you provided an explanation about that house. If you haven’t told me they were harmless, we would have moved out of this town a long time ago,” he reminded. “I wouldn’t want to lose my best friend,” I frowned. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Me, too.” To be continued... Comments are welcomed! And constructive criticism. | 
It's so fun posting in here again. I miss the feeling. 
Getting to the point here, the title/quote is from the new Angels & Airwaves single, "Everything's Magic". AND NOW...EVERYTHING IS! 
Whoa. Being Maria Blanca, she forgave him for that. I would have kicked his scrawny little ass if that happened to me. Hahah. The conversation shifted to Romeo and Juliet, then I retold the story to Dana on how the two lovers committed suicide. Sure, the story's smart, but I didn't like the ending. 
Anyway, we still need more extras, and I still need a BLOODY MR. HYDE. 
This is an effect Aiden has on me. It's pure insanity. I never did that ('prettify' myself for a certain boy) for Demetri, or Misery...not even Mikey. I'm scaring myself. Gah. 
I want my best friends back. NOW. It's Christmastime for Pete's sake.