Requiem For A Memory

He always hated that music.

From his vantage point on the very top of the light house, he could see the cold breeze rustle the gauzy curtains in his bedroom window, though he couldn't feel it. He often came up here to reflect, relax, escape. Anything to avoid that music. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could still hear it from where he was perched. He told Kat he could remember much about his life, but there was one thing he neglected--not forgotten--to mention to her…

December, 1905. Five people, dressed all in black, lined a single church pew. As the priest recited a prayer in Latin, a woman in a black veil began to cry, pausing every now and then to raise a hand to dab at her eyes. A somber man, undoubtedly her husband, placed a hand on her shoulder, which only made her sob harder. Three men in varying ages stood at the end of the pew, their faces etched with an indiscernible expression. As the priest finished his prayer and closed the Bible with a snap, the organ music began to play "Ave Maria". The casket was hoisted up onto the pallbearer's shoulders. The group then followed the procession of pallbearers to the hearse, which led them to the Friendship Cemetery.

Once the heavy oak doors closed, there was absolute silence. The organ had ceased playing as soon as the priest had gone out to follow the family to the cemetery. But the church was not completely empty. High in the cloisters sat the ghost of a twelve year old boy, completely disbelieving that he had actually witnessed his own funeral. The blue-eyed ghost, once a handsome sandy blonde on the cusp of adolescence, sat staring at the organ. It was a massive instrument, high as the church ceiling itself, with ornate figures of both angels and demons carved into the maple wood that served as its front. The façade reminded him too much of his present self. The ghost, once out of his daze, floated out of an elaborate stained glass window, vowing never to go near another organ again.

And just earlier tonight, he heard it again, in the form of one of Dr. Harvey's CDs. It was just a recording playing on the stereo in the study, but the same tune played, echoed, and reverberated inside his head, and awakened a distant memory he would never tell not confide to anyone.

After a while, the little ghost floated around town, before coming to a gated hill. The cemetery. For years, he had wanted to make peace with is former self. To die so young is tragic. Perhaps that was why his uncles where here now?

His mind made up, the ghost went straight through the iron bars of the gates--as ghost, he needn't worry about such trivial things as locks, like the one that adorned the silver chains wrapped around the gate's handles.

He searched for a few minutes, before coming a grave stone that was bend over and covered with moss. He could still make out the words etched in stone:

Casper Johannes McFadden, 23 June 1893-23 December 1905. RIP.

Then he drifted away to the manor house where he had grown up--sort of. Casper often wondered what his life would have been like had he lived longer. What would he have done for a living? How would he look? What would he sound like? Would he ever had married? Have had children? Someone like Kat would be perfect for those last two roles in his life.

But, now that the Lazarus liquid was gone, he may never get a chance to find out. He would have loved to stay human with Kat long after that night, but at least he did get his first--and last--kiss before the clock chimed eleven.

Sighing to himself, Casper got off of the lighthouse and floated back through the window whence he came. He was dismayed to hear that the CD was still playing--it must have been inadvertently stuck on repeat. Kat was soundly asleep in her (well, his) bed, Casper hoped she was having dreams of him.

Casper, after checking that his uncles were asleep, drifted down the stairs to the study, now Dr. Harvey's office. Dr. James Harvey was snoring loudly, slumped in his swivel chair. The stereo continued to blare "Ave Maria". Quitely, Casper shut off the stereo and placed the CD back in its case. Casper retreated to his room, hoping for another miracle, like the wish he was granted by Amelia Harvey six years ago.

Casper sat on the edge of the bed, remembering how he used to swing his growing legs back and forth when seated on the same bed when he was young--and alive. Now, all he had was his uncles, the Harveys…and the memory of that organ.

The next night, Casper sat in the same spot on the lighthouse, wishing, hoping, praying to be anything but his ghostly self. He looked down at the red paint that capped the light house roof. Since when was that paint so bright, even in the dark? Wait…

The following evening, Kat sat in the playroom, wondering where Casper could be. She hadn't seen him at all, all day. It wasn't really like him to disappear inexplicably. Kat truly was lonely. Her father had gone out to visit a patient at the cemetery , and the Trio had gone to the bar, most likely to party. Kat played with her hair absentmindedly when she heard the doorbell ring. Kat hurried downstairs, vaguely wondering why on Earth anyone would be coming to the door at such a later hour. It had to be a stranger, maybe a lost tourist, as he father had a key, and the Trio…well, they wouldn't be back yet.

Unlocking the door, Kat was met with a familiar pair of blue eyes that belonged to a strikingly handsome sandy blonde youth. The young man grinned at her, then leaned forward as if to whisper in her ear. "Can I keep you?" asked Casper. And he did, always.