Charles had never been the social type. As a child, he would play alone with little toy cars and action figures. But he never played with the other human children.

Emphasis on human.

The adults only thought he had a hyperactive imagination. That the people he made up and played with were nothing more than pretend.

Of course, that wasn’t true.

Charles could see ghosts. His favorite to play with was the ghost of a little boy named Roy. Together they spent their days playing at the daycare.

When Charles was in the middle of elementary school, the other kids would make fun of him for still having imaginary friends. He was an outcast. But he was fine since he could still play and hang out with Roy.

It was around this time that Charles realized Roy still looked the same from the time they had met. When Charles confronted Roy about this, Roy reluctantly told him the truth.

Roy told him he had passed a long time ago. He ran into the street without looking and was hit by a car. He wandered and felt lost for a long time before he met Charles. And he was really happy that they could be friends.

Opening up to Charles and telling the truth made Roy glow that day. He was no longer a faded spirit but one of light.

Roy thanked Charles before he moved on.

Charles was happy for Roy. For a little while. But he went back to his life. Where he was avoided and laughed at.

Charles continued to see spirits as he grew up. He saw lots of positive spirits. That would float around. He saw faded lost spirits wander about too.

He didn’t encounter negative spirits until high school. Negative spirits weren’t evil. But they weren’t nice to hang around.

They were inky and black and liked to hang out in the dark corners near lockers and bathrooms.

At this point in life, he earned the nickname “The Skeleton.” Once he heard this, he remembered standing in the mirror. His eyes did seem hollow. He had bags from when negative ghosts would creep into his room. They knew he could see him. So they loved to pick on him.

His clothes were baggy on him. They were all hand-me-downs from his older brother. Did that make him look thin?

He didn’t like the name. He was living. Not dead like a skeleton. Not dead like all of the other things he would see all day.

Soon, the whispers behind his back became shouts as he would walk by. After several months, he met his first bully.

Jack Riddleman. He and his lackeys pushed Charles in the bathroom, made fun of him for a while, nearly drowned him in one of the toilets, and dropped all his belongings in another.

Charles sat soaking, trying to salvage what he could.

That was when he felt a cool chill in the air. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He turned around slowly.

Standing before him was a tall man in an all black suit. He had long hair tied up into a small bun on the back of his head. His face was covered by a mask. Even a mesh covered his eyes so Charles couldn’t tell the color.

“Isn’t unfair? How poorly you’re treated despite never doing anything to them?”

Charles focuses on shoving stuff into his backpack. He grumbles, “What do you know?”

“I know that in my world, if anyone did that to you, they’d be incinerated on the spot.”

Charles pauses. “What do you mean?”

“In my world, with gifts like yours, you would be treated like royalty.”

“What do you mean, your world?”

The man pauses. “Would you like to see for yourself?”

He reaches out a leather covered glove.

Charles stared at the open hand. He reaches out but hesitates. He couldn’t describe it but there was a cold pit in his stomach.

But he couldn’t help it. Any life other than this one must be better.

Charles grabs into his hand which is ice cold. Way more bony than his own.

The man effortlessly helps Charles onto his feet. “Follow me. We have much to discuss.”

He snaps and a shadowy doorway forms in the wall of the bathroom. The man stops at the entrance and turns back. “Coming?”

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the knots in his stomach. He follows after.