~ Some say ghosts only let them selves be heard and seen to those they want to see and hear them. But does one ever wonder…if they can control whether or not someone can feel them? ~
Sometimes when I'm alone, whether I'm at work or at home, I think of you. I reminisce about your smile. How it warms my heart that after all you've been through you can still be spread your lips and giggle so lightly. How innocent you were. I remember the day you got better the first thing you wanted to do was run about, catching butterflies and pick flowers out in the hospital's garden. Every time I see that beautiful garden, lavishing with such a variety of flowers and shrubbery, I can't help think of you once more.
I always remember the good and the bad, he pros and the cons, the yin and the yang…of your life.
And besides those sugar coated smiles, I can always recall those warm embraces. Such as the times you'd greet me with one, hug me tight after having a nightmare or when you were intense pain, when you're afraid of meeting new people, and…that day.
The day that you died.
The pain, just the thought of it makes my scar on my stomach sting, how it engulfed our bodies yet we still fought. As long as we had each other, arms wrapped around each other, we were able to keep on fighting. But …was it the moment that we were pulled apart for the operations…that you couldn't hold on?
"Ah! I…I'm crying again…" I reach up with my left hand and feel the hot tears flowing down my cheeks like a never-ending river.
I let out a short stifled and very fake laugh, "It must be because I've held in these emotions all day. I wonder if it's because of the garden again, that made me think of you, or that young Spanish patient that looks so much like you…Emilio…"
And now…suddenly I feel cold. Yet…warm at the same time. Deep down, I can feel that same feeling I had before when you always hugged me.
"You're trying to make me feel better, aren't you little brother?" I say, with a smile and cross my arms across my chest.
No response…as usual.
I'm starting to wonder that I'm only imagining things.
"But…it's a shame they've become so cold. Say…I wish I could see you…or at least hear you…"
I'm starting to feel disappointed. I feel his cold embraces from time to time, mostly when I'm sad, but I never get to see or hear him. Doesn't he want to make me happy?
"I…try…big sis…" Came the faintest voice from in front of me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, and look around frantically. But I still see nothing. Now the coldness is gone too.
With a sigh I force another smile.
"It's ok. You don't have enough energy for it all after all, huh?
"Oh but…you're talking to me now!"
"I…don't want…you…to be…mad…at me…"
My heat just skipped a beat.
"Emilio…I would never be mad at you!!"
"To…to make them warm…my hugs…I…"
"I understand. It's impossible for the dead, who are always cold to the touch, to be warm…"
I feel those cold arms make their way around me again and, like before, I cross my arms around my chest as if returning the hug.
"It's ok. I like these cold embraces, they're still warm when I know it's you."
When I saw this title I automatically thought about how ghosts decrease the temperature around you. And then of course I always think Emilio never really leaves Heather's side sooo. heh This one I wrote up really quick late at night (more like early in the morning) and briefly edited it. Nothing that great. Good practice for first person though.