FIC: Handprints on the Mirror of your Mind (J2)
Title: Handprints on the Mirror of your Mind
Claim Title: Hocus Pocus
Author: Miss ‘Drea/placeofinsanity
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: angst, ambiguously happy ending
Word Count: ~3000
Pairing: J2 (first time ever writing it!!)
Summary: in which the Jared lights a candle, inherits a ghost, and the Sanderson sisters don’t rise.
*
dirt on all sides
pressing in
smells like...
Like death.
Why am I here?
Where is...
Tastes like blood
ashes
copper
there is nothing here.
No one here.
Only me.
I am nothing.
*
time flows like water
what is that taste?
Where is
I don’t remember
walls are closing in
they are gone too
like me.
*
a voice.
Who speaks now?
Father?
I am here!
Light.
The candle.
Black as midnight; the candle
a candle
why am I
this is wrong.
Do not light the candle.
*
Jared grins at her from behind the ornately decorated black candle. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he says to her.
“Famous last words, Jared!” Genevieve says, standing with her hands on her hips. “Did you learn nothing from our class?”
He scoffs. “Lighting a candle is not going to bring back three witches from the dead,” he announces.
She scoffs right back. “You don’t know that!”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Jared asks, wounded. “Nothing is going to happen.” He flicks open the lighter, bringing it to life. Just as he lowers it to the dusty candle wick, a breeze blows across his face and the flame goes out.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a sign,” Gen says, making a grab for the zippo.
Jared shakes his head. “No, it’s just a draft,” he counters. While Gen looks uncertainly behind her at the door - which is open - he takes that time to relight the zippo and ignite the wick.
*
the curse
my curse is
the curse is my curse is
the candle is
my sister is
WHY DID YOU NOT LISTEN
*
When nothing happens, Jared grins, tucking the zippo away. “See?” he says to Genevieve, trying not to laugh at the scrunched up face she’s making. “Nothing hap....” he trails off, frowning uncertainly. “Did you hear that?”
Genevieve reaches over and grabs something off the little table to her left, throwing it at him. It bounces off his chest and he catches it before it falls. “Don’t you even joke, Jared Padalecki!”
He looks down at the thing she threw at him. “Did you throw a bone at me?” he asks incredulously. “That’s totally gross!” He tucks it in his pocket anyway.
“You’re gross,” she responds, half-heartedly. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? You had your fun.”
He slides an arm around her as they exit. “Don’t worry, Gen,” he says gravely. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
*
You should
*
moving air
night sky
have you ever seen so many stars, Je...
They didn’t return
I am free
I am free
I am free
this is my house
mine
my house is
your house is
you brought me here
this is my house now too.
*
“Hey Jared,” his father says, as Jared walks through the door after school the next day. “I found you something I thought you might like.”
Jared comes to the table and sits across from his father. “What’s up?”
“You were expressing an interest in the Sanderson house yesterday,” his father says. “So I got you some stuff from the local archives at the library. It’s just old pictures and the like from the museum.” Gerry hands over the box, sliding it across the table to Jared. “It seems pretty interesting. See, local legend has it that the Sanderson sisters were actual witches who killed children. The night they were hanged, a boy from the local village went missing - presumed murdered by the witches - and his body was never found.”
“Wicked cool,” Jared breathes, pawing through the box. “This is seriously awesome, Dad.”
“Just don’t let it interfere with your studies.” His dad smiles briefly. “I know moving here from L.A. without your mom and sister was hard, Jare.”
Jared’s smile fades. “Can we not talk about that... ever, do you think?” He stands up. “Thanks for the stuff, dad.”
He takes it to his room when he leaves the table, feeling a cold breeze at his back.
It feels familiar.
*
Sanderson?
Witches?
It feels...
Like terror
what was her name?
Who did I save?
Help me.
I’m lost.
*
Jared lifts one of the pictures out of the box. It’s an old newspaper clipping, and it looks like an obituary, from three hundred years before. “Jensen Ackleson,” he reads out loud and goes to turn up the heat when he shivers. “Jensen, presumed dead, murdered by witches, blah blah blah...”
The boy in the picture is handsome, striking in a way that Jared doesn’t often see in people who aren’t movie stars. He wonders what color the boy’s eyes are. “Did the Sanderson sisters murder you, Jensen Ackleson?” he says to the picture before moving on to the next in the pile.
*
my name
he knows my name
my
walls creak
angels sleep
amongst the crevices of the deep
say it again
I belong here
you belong
I am
you are
*
Even though Jared instilled a knocking rule when the moved into the drafty old house in Salem, Massachusetts after his parents got divorced, Gerry still forgot half the time.
“Hey did you invite a friend over?” he asks Jared, poking his head through the door.
Jared jumps. “No, why?”
“I just thought I saw someone by your door,” Gerry says. “Huh. Must be halloween.”
“Must be,” Jared echoes. When he puts the box under his bead before he sleeps, he leaves the picture of Jensen Ackleson on his dresser.
*
was that me?
I think
I might remember
it was dark
so dark
no moon
they had
they had MY SISTER
I went in and
no
threads slip
they always slip
ebb and flow
like the tide
I remember
I remember
wake up
I want to remember
more
WAKE UP.
*
It’s still dark when Jared jerks suddenly awake. His heart is in his throat, beating a stacatto pulse he can feel in his whole body. His clock says it’s four in the morning. He’s only been asleep for three hours.
He turns on the beside light and looks up in time to see a fading figure in the corner of his room. He almost falls out of bed in his shock. Did his father seriously buy a haunted house?
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he says, unnecessarily because it’s half untrue now.
There’s another cold brush of air across his face, a caress, like cool fingertips.
Jared does the manly thing.
He hides under the covers.
*
he saw me
*
Jared spends the next four days feeling watched. The breeze in his room is more insistent than ever, pushing him towards the box hidden under his bed. Mid-year finals are coming up though and he needs to study for calculus in a bad way.
“Seriously,” he says to his empty room. “I need to study. Stop it. I’ll go through the box before bed.”
The ringing silence seems to abate some and Jared breathes a sigh of relief when the pressure in his head vanishes. He studies through dinner and ignores the increasingly anxious feeling from his cold breeze. Once he’s answering the tests in the book correctly, he feels like he can pull out the box.
The breeze is right there with him, cold breath on the back of his neck. It feels like a lover’s kiss. The room grows increasingly colder and Jared’s heater kicks on to compensate. Jared pulls out a few papers and fans them out on the hardwood floor. His breeze responds, pushing one paper closer to Jared’s hand.
“Y’know,” Jared drawls, “it’s entirely possible that I’ve gone insane.” He picks up the paper anyway and begins to read it out loud.
*
Yes. YES.
Your voice.
Keep me here.
How do you know?
I cannot touch you
help me
keep me
keep reading.
*
When Jared finishes the three pages and the breeze recedes, he begins the ritual of putting the box away. He turns the heat down so not to boil during the night.
There’s a hand print on his window when he turns out the light. Laying his hand over the mark, it’s smaller than his.
It’s his cold breeze.
It’s Jensen Ackleson.
“Good night,” he says to the silent room. “Jensen.”
*
Good night.
Jared.
*
“Hey Gen,” Jared says into his phone. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“Yeah sure, what’s up?” He can hear music in the background, it sounds... strange, tinny, distorted.
“Come over, and I’ll tell you.”
She huffs. “Fine, Mr. Secretive. I’ll be there in two hours. I’m at Church.”
He’s faintly surprised. “That explains the music.”
Genevieve laughs, and hangs up the phone without saying good bye.
*
memories swept clean
rent in so many cracks, my soul dies and twists
Shadow and twilight adorning
Our minds, entwined, secrets
no one’s around
To pick up the pieces anymore
thank you
I want
to stay
with
you
*
“A ouija board? Seriously? What the fuck, Jare?” Gen looks disgusted, recoiling away from the board. “Those things end only in badness,” she tells him.
Jared looks embarrassed but doesn’t back down. “I uh, I think brought Jensen Ackleson home with me.”
Gen laughs. “Okay Jared, where’s the camera?”
“No camera, I’m being seriously.” He holds out the board.
She rolls her eyes. “Those things never work.”
“Let’s try?”
“Fine, freak.”
*
You breathe life into me.
I can feel.
How many years?
Since I felt skin on skin
his name was Jeffrey.
Jeff.
I remember him now.
He was my secret.
As I am yours.
*
this silent wraith of words
never listen
she looks familiar
My soul can only take so much
it screams
can she
Hear
does she care?
Make it stop.
Thoughts never put to paper
Maybe...
Never should have been
MAKE IT STOP.
*
Gen yanks her hands off the ouija boards indicator, shuddering violently. “Yeah no, I’m done, Padalecki. I hate these fucking things.”
Jared’s a little disappointed but he slides it under his bed anyway. She doesn’t relax until it’s completely out of site. “You want to see what my dad got me?” he asks to diffuse the tension. She nods, looking a little apprehensive. He lays down on the floor and pulls out the box, taking out what he’s already read. “It’s like a time capsule of the comprehensive history of the Sanderson sisters.”
She looks intrigued despite herself. “Really?” He hands her the first article on the top. “Oh wow, these are like, genuine. Your father is wicked cool.”
Jared smiles. “Yeah, I’ve been reading a little bit each day.”
Her eyebrow raises. “To the ghost?” she asks and laughs when Jared flushes. “Let’s see this one says... Mackenzie Ackleson, youngest of the family died today on March 15th... less than six months after her older brother Jensen disappeared. Mackenzie had the pox,” she surmises.
“That sucks,” Jared starts to say but barely gets passed the first syllable when the window above his bed explodes. They scramble away from the falling glass as Jared’s father flings the door open and looks in shock at the fist sized hole in the frame.
“What the hell?” Gerry asks.
Genevieve’s eyes are wide. “Dude,” she says quietly. “I think you’re right.”
*
DEAD.
All for nothing.
DEAD.
Sacrifice meant for nothing.
She’s deaddeaddeaddeaddead.
NO.
NOT FOR NOTHING.
Swing, release.
Shatter.
*
With Gerry’s reprimand still ringing in his ears, Jared hunkers down in his bed, checking to make sure the tarp he’d taped over the hole in his window. “Okay,” he says to the room, breeze surprisingly absent, “no more smashing windows. Or, or I’m not reading any more out of that box.”
There’s no response, not that he was expecting one, and Jared ducks back under the covers. It’s not a fail safe against ghosts, but he feels a lot better once darkness cloaks him. He lays there, on the edge of sleep for what seems like forever, when he feels a hand on his head, through the blankets.
He tries to muster up the energy to protest but slips into sleep before he can even so much as roll over.
*
kiss me
I wish to remember
please please please
jared
yes
*
Jared’s had a lot of sex dreams but this feels different. He’s laying on his bed, a very naked, very hot boy laying between his legs. The boy looks up with smiling green eyes and says, “Jared. Will you kiss me?”
Who is he to say no to that? He draws up dream-boy for a kiss, slotting their hips together. “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” the dream-boy says laughingly against his lips. “Kiss me, Jared, please. I wish to remember.”
Jared smiles a little, and kisses him again, sliding his fingers down dream-boy’s sides until he reaches his ass. Dream-boy purrs into their shared kiss, sliding his tongue into Jared’s mouth. Jared groans as they start to rub their hips together, hard cocks rubbing against each other.
“Please,” Dream-boy says, sounding desperate, rutting against Jared with abandon. “Please, Jared...”
“I got you,” Jared promises, kissing down the boy’s neck and biting gently there.
“Yes,” the dream-boy pants, “yes, yes, yes...”
Dream-boy comes between them with a shout and Jared’s just about to follow him over when he wakes up.
He’s hard, aching and one pass over his boxer clad dick has him coming.
“Well,” Jared says out loud, licking his lips and still tasting his dream-boy on them. “That’s... just plain strange.”
The cold breeze ruffles his hair and Jared sighs, flopping back on the bed.
Sleep is a long time coming.
*
you felt me
you touched me
I want more
*
Jared doesn’t tell Genevieve about the sex dream he had about the ghost. They’re supposed to be dating, so he isn’t supposed to be having sex dreams about male ghosts from the 1800s. He’s pretty sure that violates some boyfriend code.
He does tell her that he’s almost finished with the box, and each page he grows closer to Jensen Ackleson’s ghost. Jared can sometimes see him in the corners of his eyes, and it’s so obviously his dream-boy that he’s a little surprised he didn’t figure it out before.
“Green,” he says, looking at the obituary picture of Jensen, “your eyes are green.” He opens the box and settles on the bed to read through another four or five pages and pictures. Most of the stuff isn’t of much interested to his ghost, but some of it, like the article about his sister’s death, is.
Some of it, Jared can barely read through the intense cold the room becomes. Like Jensen is sitting on him, or at least right near him. He’s found that turning up the heat isn’t helping. It’s stupid cold outside too, November being a lot worse in Massachusetts than in Texas.
He waits for another dream but one never comes.
*
I feel like
this is an anchor
you are keeping me here.
I think
think
love
I think love
I think I love you
you let me make me keep me
remember, remember
I love you
*
When Jared gets to the end of the box, he’s struck with an overwhelming sadness as he replaces the pictures in the order he found them in. “So that’s it,” he says, to Genevieve and to the ghost hiding in the corner of the room. “I’m stuck with a ghost and...” he’s cut off when Genevieve leans over and kisses him.
She drags him down to the bed and kisses him and fucks the ghost right out of his head.
*
I know her face.
Why....
I thought you...
Jared.
Why?
*
you live
I die
I’m dead.
There is nothing here for me.
You live.
She lives with you.
I died.
I remember now.
*
they had Mackenzie, she vanished in the middle of the night
father was frantic
mother was in tears
who else was going to get her?
I went there
followed her tracks
through the woods
the house was there
fire burning
smelled like death
my sister was tied to the chair
she was crying
the witches they were making something
tried to feed it to her.
She spit it out.
In their faces.
I taught her that.
I taught her well.
I went in.
Drank it.
I died.
She escaped.
She escaped.
*
you should live
without me dogging your steps
good bye love
jeff
jared
good bye
I’m sorry.
*
Genevieve sits on the floor of the old Sanderson house with one candle lit. “Well, sisters,” she announces to the two bodies she buried under the foundation, “Looks like I won.”
*End
Claim Title: Hocus Pocus
Author: Miss ‘Drea/placeofinsanity
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: angst, ambiguously happy ending
Word Count: ~3000
Pairing: J2 (first time ever writing it!!)
Summary: in which the Jared lights a candle, inherits a ghost, and the Sanderson sisters don’t rise.
*
dirt on all sides
pressing in
smells like...
Like death.
Why am I here?
Where is...
Tastes like blood
ashes
copper
there is nothing here.
No one here.
Only me.
I am nothing.
*
time flows like water
what is that taste?
Where is
I don’t remember
walls are closing in
they are gone too
like me.
*
a voice.
Who speaks now?
Father?
I am here!
Light.
The candle.
Black as midnight; the candle
a candle
why am I
this is wrong.
Do not light the candle.
*
Jared grins at her from behind the ornately decorated black candle. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he says to her.
“Famous last words, Jared!” Genevieve says, standing with her hands on her hips. “Did you learn nothing from our class?”
He scoffs. “Lighting a candle is not going to bring back three witches from the dead,” he announces.
She scoffs right back. “You don’t know that!”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Jared asks, wounded. “Nothing is going to happen.” He flicks open the lighter, bringing it to life. Just as he lowers it to the dusty candle wick, a breeze blows across his face and the flame goes out.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a sign,” Gen says, making a grab for the zippo.
Jared shakes his head. “No, it’s just a draft,” he counters. While Gen looks uncertainly behind her at the door - which is open - he takes that time to relight the zippo and ignite the wick.
*
the curse
my curse is
the curse is my curse is
the candle is
my sister is
WHY DID YOU NOT LISTEN
*
When nothing happens, Jared grins, tucking the zippo away. “See?” he says to Genevieve, trying not to laugh at the scrunched up face she’s making. “Nothing hap....” he trails off, frowning uncertainly. “Did you hear that?”
Genevieve reaches over and grabs something off the little table to her left, throwing it at him. It bounces off his chest and he catches it before it falls. “Don’t you even joke, Jared Padalecki!”
He looks down at the thing she threw at him. “Did you throw a bone at me?” he asks incredulously. “That’s totally gross!” He tucks it in his pocket anyway.
“You’re gross,” she responds, half-heartedly. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? You had your fun.”
He slides an arm around her as they exit. “Don’t worry, Gen,” he says gravely. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
*
You should
*
moving air
night sky
have you ever seen so many stars, Je...
They didn’t return
I am free
I am free
I am free
this is my house
mine
my house is
your house is
you brought me here
this is my house now too.
*
“Hey Jared,” his father says, as Jared walks through the door after school the next day. “I found you something I thought you might like.”
Jared comes to the table and sits across from his father. “What’s up?”
“You were expressing an interest in the Sanderson house yesterday,” his father says. “So I got you some stuff from the local archives at the library. It’s just old pictures and the like from the museum.” Gerry hands over the box, sliding it across the table to Jared. “It seems pretty interesting. See, local legend has it that the Sanderson sisters were actual witches who killed children. The night they were hanged, a boy from the local village went missing - presumed murdered by the witches - and his body was never found.”
“Wicked cool,” Jared breathes, pawing through the box. “This is seriously awesome, Dad.”
“Just don’t let it interfere with your studies.” His dad smiles briefly. “I know moving here from L.A. without your mom and sister was hard, Jare.”
Jared’s smile fades. “Can we not talk about that... ever, do you think?” He stands up. “Thanks for the stuff, dad.”
He takes it to his room when he leaves the table, feeling a cold breeze at his back.
It feels familiar.
*
Sanderson?
Witches?
It feels...
Like terror
what was her name?
Who did I save?
Help me.
I’m lost.
*
Jared lifts one of the pictures out of the box. It’s an old newspaper clipping, and it looks like an obituary, from three hundred years before. “Jensen Ackleson,” he reads out loud and goes to turn up the heat when he shivers. “Jensen, presumed dead, murdered by witches, blah blah blah...”
The boy in the picture is handsome, striking in a way that Jared doesn’t often see in people who aren’t movie stars. He wonders what color the boy’s eyes are. “Did the Sanderson sisters murder you, Jensen Ackleson?” he says to the picture before moving on to the next in the pile.
*
my name
he knows my name
my
walls creak
angels sleep
amongst the crevices of the deep
say it again
I belong here
you belong
I am
you are
*
Even though Jared instilled a knocking rule when the moved into the drafty old house in Salem, Massachusetts after his parents got divorced, Gerry still forgot half the time.
“Hey did you invite a friend over?” he asks Jared, poking his head through the door.
Jared jumps. “No, why?”
“I just thought I saw someone by your door,” Gerry says. “Huh. Must be halloween.”
“Must be,” Jared echoes. When he puts the box under his bead before he sleeps, he leaves the picture of Jensen Ackleson on his dresser.
*
was that me?
I think
I might remember
it was dark
so dark
no moon
they had
they had MY SISTER
I went in and
no
threads slip
they always slip
ebb and flow
like the tide
I remember
I remember
wake up
I want to remember
more
WAKE UP.
*
It’s still dark when Jared jerks suddenly awake. His heart is in his throat, beating a stacatto pulse he can feel in his whole body. His clock says it’s four in the morning. He’s only been asleep for three hours.
He turns on the beside light and looks up in time to see a fading figure in the corner of his room. He almost falls out of bed in his shock. Did his father seriously buy a haunted house?
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he says, unnecessarily because it’s half untrue now.
There’s another cold brush of air across his face, a caress, like cool fingertips.
Jared does the manly thing.
He hides under the covers.
*
he saw me
*
Jared spends the next four days feeling watched. The breeze in his room is more insistent than ever, pushing him towards the box hidden under his bed. Mid-year finals are coming up though and he needs to study for calculus in a bad way.
“Seriously,” he says to his empty room. “I need to study. Stop it. I’ll go through the box before bed.”
The ringing silence seems to abate some and Jared breathes a sigh of relief when the pressure in his head vanishes. He studies through dinner and ignores the increasingly anxious feeling from his cold breeze. Once he’s answering the tests in the book correctly, he feels like he can pull out the box.
The breeze is right there with him, cold breath on the back of his neck. It feels like a lover’s kiss. The room grows increasingly colder and Jared’s heater kicks on to compensate. Jared pulls out a few papers and fans them out on the hardwood floor. His breeze responds, pushing one paper closer to Jared’s hand.
“Y’know,” Jared drawls, “it’s entirely possible that I’ve gone insane.” He picks up the paper anyway and begins to read it out loud.
*
Yes. YES.
Your voice.
Keep me here.
How do you know?
I cannot touch you
help me
keep me
keep reading.
*
When Jared finishes the three pages and the breeze recedes, he begins the ritual of putting the box away. He turns the heat down so not to boil during the night.
There’s a hand print on his window when he turns out the light. Laying his hand over the mark, it’s smaller than his.
It’s his cold breeze.
It’s Jensen Ackleson.
“Good night,” he says to the silent room. “Jensen.”
*
Good night.
Jared.
*
“Hey Gen,” Jared says into his phone. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“Yeah sure, what’s up?” He can hear music in the background, it sounds... strange, tinny, distorted.
“Come over, and I’ll tell you.”
She huffs. “Fine, Mr. Secretive. I’ll be there in two hours. I’m at Church.”
He’s faintly surprised. “That explains the music.”
Genevieve laughs, and hangs up the phone without saying good bye.
*
memories swept clean
rent in so many cracks, my soul dies and twists
Shadow and twilight adorning
Our minds, entwined, secrets
no one’s around
To pick up the pieces anymore
thank you
I want
to stay
with
you
*
“A ouija board? Seriously? What the fuck, Jare?” Gen looks disgusted, recoiling away from the board. “Those things end only in badness,” she tells him.
Jared looks embarrassed but doesn’t back down. “I uh, I think brought Jensen Ackleson home with me.”
Gen laughs. “Okay Jared, where’s the camera?”
“No camera, I’m being seriously.” He holds out the board.
She rolls her eyes. “Those things never work.”
“Let’s try?”
“Fine, freak.”
*
You breathe life into me.
I can feel.
How many years?
Since I felt skin on skin
his name was Jeffrey.
Jeff.
I remember him now.
He was my secret.
As I am yours.
*
this silent wraith of words
never listen
she looks familiar
My soul can only take so much
it screams
can she
Hear
does she care?
Make it stop.
Thoughts never put to paper
Maybe...
Never should have been
MAKE IT STOP.
*
Gen yanks her hands off the ouija boards indicator, shuddering violently. “Yeah no, I’m done, Padalecki. I hate these fucking things.”
Jared’s a little disappointed but he slides it under his bed anyway. She doesn’t relax until it’s completely out of site. “You want to see what my dad got me?” he asks to diffuse the tension. She nods, looking a little apprehensive. He lays down on the floor and pulls out the box, taking out what he’s already read. “It’s like a time capsule of the comprehensive history of the Sanderson sisters.”
She looks intrigued despite herself. “Really?” He hands her the first article on the top. “Oh wow, these are like, genuine. Your father is wicked cool.”
Jared smiles. “Yeah, I’ve been reading a little bit each day.”
Her eyebrow raises. “To the ghost?” she asks and laughs when Jared flushes. “Let’s see this one says... Mackenzie Ackleson, youngest of the family died today on March 15th... less than six months after her older brother Jensen disappeared. Mackenzie had the pox,” she surmises.
“That sucks,” Jared starts to say but barely gets passed the first syllable when the window above his bed explodes. They scramble away from the falling glass as Jared’s father flings the door open and looks in shock at the fist sized hole in the frame.
“What the hell?” Gerry asks.
Genevieve’s eyes are wide. “Dude,” she says quietly. “I think you’re right.”
*
DEAD.
All for nothing.
DEAD.
Sacrifice meant for nothing.
She’s deaddeaddeaddeaddead.
NO.
NOT FOR NOTHING.
Swing, release.
Shatter.
*
With Gerry’s reprimand still ringing in his ears, Jared hunkers down in his bed, checking to make sure the tarp he’d taped over the hole in his window. “Okay,” he says to the room, breeze surprisingly absent, “no more smashing windows. Or, or I’m not reading any more out of that box.”
There’s no response, not that he was expecting one, and Jared ducks back under the covers. It’s not a fail safe against ghosts, but he feels a lot better once darkness cloaks him. He lays there, on the edge of sleep for what seems like forever, when he feels a hand on his head, through the blankets.
He tries to muster up the energy to protest but slips into sleep before he can even so much as roll over.
*
kiss me
I wish to remember
please please please
jared
yes
*
Jared’s had a lot of sex dreams but this feels different. He’s laying on his bed, a very naked, very hot boy laying between his legs. The boy looks up with smiling green eyes and says, “Jared. Will you kiss me?”
Who is he to say no to that? He draws up dream-boy for a kiss, slotting their hips together. “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” the dream-boy says laughingly against his lips. “Kiss me, Jared, please. I wish to remember.”
Jared smiles a little, and kisses him again, sliding his fingers down dream-boy’s sides until he reaches his ass. Dream-boy purrs into their shared kiss, sliding his tongue into Jared’s mouth. Jared groans as they start to rub their hips together, hard cocks rubbing against each other.
“Please,” Dream-boy says, sounding desperate, rutting against Jared with abandon. “Please, Jared...”
“I got you,” Jared promises, kissing down the boy’s neck and biting gently there.
“Yes,” the dream-boy pants, “yes, yes, yes...”
Dream-boy comes between them with a shout and Jared’s just about to follow him over when he wakes up.
He’s hard, aching and one pass over his boxer clad dick has him coming.
“Well,” Jared says out loud, licking his lips and still tasting his dream-boy on them. “That’s... just plain strange.”
The cold breeze ruffles his hair and Jared sighs, flopping back on the bed.
Sleep is a long time coming.
*
you felt me
you touched me
I want more
*
Jared doesn’t tell Genevieve about the sex dream he had about the ghost. They’re supposed to be dating, so he isn’t supposed to be having sex dreams about male ghosts from the 1800s. He’s pretty sure that violates some boyfriend code.
He does tell her that he’s almost finished with the box, and each page he grows closer to Jensen Ackleson’s ghost. Jared can sometimes see him in the corners of his eyes, and it’s so obviously his dream-boy that he’s a little surprised he didn’t figure it out before.
“Green,” he says, looking at the obituary picture of Jensen, “your eyes are green.” He opens the box and settles on the bed to read through another four or five pages and pictures. Most of the stuff isn’t of much interested to his ghost, but some of it, like the article about his sister’s death, is.
Some of it, Jared can barely read through the intense cold the room becomes. Like Jensen is sitting on him, or at least right near him. He’s found that turning up the heat isn’t helping. It’s stupid cold outside too, November being a lot worse in Massachusetts than in Texas.
He waits for another dream but one never comes.
*
I feel like
this is an anchor
you are keeping me here.
I think
think
love
I think love
I think I love you
you let me make me keep me
remember, remember
I love you
*
When Jared gets to the end of the box, he’s struck with an overwhelming sadness as he replaces the pictures in the order he found them in. “So that’s it,” he says, to Genevieve and to the ghost hiding in the corner of the room. “I’m stuck with a ghost and...” he’s cut off when Genevieve leans over and kisses him.
She drags him down to the bed and kisses him and fucks the ghost right out of his head.
*
I know her face.
Why....
I thought you...
Jared.
Why?
*
you live
I die
I’m dead.
There is nothing here for me.
You live.
She lives with you.
I died.
I remember now.
*
they had Mackenzie, she vanished in the middle of the night
father was frantic
mother was in tears
who else was going to get her?
I went there
followed her tracks
through the woods
the house was there
fire burning
smelled like death
my sister was tied to the chair
she was crying
the witches they were making something
tried to feed it to her.
She spit it out.
In their faces.
I taught her that.
I taught her well.
I went in.
Drank it.
I died.
She escaped.
She escaped.
*
you should live
without me dogging your steps
good bye love
jeff
jared
good bye
I’m sorry.
*
Genevieve sits on the floor of the old Sanderson house with one candle lit. “Well, sisters,” she announces to the two bodies she buried under the foundation, “Looks like I won.”
*End