Ghost Stories

They are stories in my head.

Indeed, sometimes it makes no sense,

And mostly, they're just vents,

In the end, the characters are dead.

Ghost stories are a collection of one shots with unnamed characters and untitled stories.

Story 1

The wind was cold. It was blowing his dark hair toward his face.

He was standing on the edge of the bridge, looking at the strong current amount of water. There were trees scattered by the river. It was the perfect place for camping. He thought it was one of the most beautiful places he had ever been.

But it looked gloomy today.

How long had it been since he came to this place? It was probably five years ago, when he and his brother were beside that river, talking while waiting for a fish to catch their bait. This was one of his favorite moments in life.

"Hey, guess what?" his brother started.

"What, you've realize that you want to give the top bunk to me?" he and his brother were taking the top bed alternately, neither one was wanted to give it up.

"No, you idiot." he laughed. "I got into Stanford."

He couldn't answer his brother. He was at loss for words as he stared at the running water.

"I'm..." he sighed, "I'm proud of you!"

"Thanks!" his brother lightly punched him in the arm, "Have you heard from your university yet?"

He paused. "No," he turned away from his brother, "I think it'll come in a few weeks though."

He lied.

He had already received it.

It already came weeks before that camping trip.

And it had the message he dreaded.

He was rejected.

And his brother wasn't.

He could never forget the looks of disappointment his family had for him when he brought them the news. He couldn't forget the confused faces and the surprised looks.

"I thought..."

"But you were..."

"We had so much..."

He couldn't remember the rest of the words. He shut them all out. He didn't want to hear them. He didn't want to hear how much of a disappointment he was to them.

He locked himself in his room for days. He hid himself from the world. He couldn't face them.

But it was his brother who tore down his walls.

"It's alright. That doesn't make you any less special than you are already."

He cried in his brother's arms. He could only show his vulnerability to his brother. Other people can't understand him, but his brother did.

He couldn't count the tears he shed that night. All he knew was his brother was there to wipe them off.

He had not come back to his place since their camping trip.

He had not come back since his death.

He tried not to care about how everyone was devastated by the tragedy. How everyone forgot about him and assumed that he was his brother... Everyone expected even more from him.

He couldn't take it.

It was too much.

He couldn't live up to their expectations. He never could.

He couldn't even bother living anymore.

That's why he was one step to his doom... or was it his salvation? One step would end it all.

But, a voice suddenly whispers...

"Please don't."

And if the voices in his head weren't so loud, maybe he would've heard the only voice that could've spared his life.

A/N: I guess I just spat out this story. I wrote and wrote and didn't think much about what would happen.