I missed Phan Phic Phight but now I'm here for Dannymay! Not really going along with the prompts, just wanted to write something for the month.
I dedicate this to @five-rivers because i love their stuff so much!
It was dead when she saw it.
Oh so very dead, but walking. Talking. Living.
That really doesnât make sense, so letâs start from the beginning;
Nelia Ugochi dâBandinello was not a normal child. Ever since she was young, she could see death. And no, not like the walking skeleton clad in black robes and a scythe most people assume, but real death; the dead, the dying, the undead, all. No one, not even her closest family members knew, and she intended to keep it that way. As long as she kept to her own and didnât cross the line for the rules, she was safe.
Ever since her family moved to this country, she knew the small, sleepy town was a little dead. The essence was in every nook and cranny, even the air had a thin yet distinctive layer of it. Nothing she couldnât handle.
The airâs death suddenly sharpened the moment before it walked in.
At first glance, it looked like a boy. A cute boy in fact. Short compared to her tall. Pale skin in contrast to her deep dark, straight black hair opposed to curly blond. Baby blue opposing forest green. But then, the closer she looked, the more she noticed what was off. Skin was a little too pale to be considered healthy, and became slightly transparent as she saw more. Hair was wispy and floaty, almost defying gravity, almost flowing like it was under water as its head bounced. Eyes a bit more, sunken, a bit more tired. Worst of all, its heartbeat sounded so, so slow.
And now, it was sitting two tables across from her.
She swallowed the milkshake that threatened to spill out of her mouth. She tried to turn back to her food, tried to ignore its presence. But she kept glancing its way, turning back to the most terrifying yet fascinating creature she had ever seen.
And she just. Kept. Staring.
One of its cohorts â the black one with glasses â pointed at her direction, and it suddenly looked over. Their eyes made contact. She gasped and looked away.
âSuch haunting eyes.â She thought.
âNelia? Whatâs wrong?â She looked up to see her brother Irnerio, who had previously been trying to unhinge his jaw to fit an absolutely massive burger, was now looking at her in concern.
âNothing.â She forced out. She glanced back at them. Her brotherâs concerned face was already contorting into a smug grin.
âOh? Falling in love already?â He chuckled âItâs the pale boy, right?â Her cheeks heated. Definitely not what was happening.
âWell, you did say that one of the advantages of moving was âDate cute Americansâ. Though I must say, I always thought that the goth girl would be more your type. You could both indulge in your weird fascination with death.â
She hit her brother in the ribs.
âStolto*.â She hissed. âI said shut up.â
âDude, the new girl is totally checking you out.â
Danny swallowed his bite of a burger. âWhat?â
He, Sam and Tucker had gone to Nasty Burger for lunch that Saturday, and had noticed the two newest additions to the town residence. The girl had been looking at them ever since they walked in.
âSheâs probably not into me. Probably looking at Sam. They look foreign, so for all we know, she may be their first goth.â
âAn honour I am willing to have with pride.â
âSheâs looking over here right now!â
Danny turned to where Tucker was pointing and sure enough, she was looking at them. They made eye contact, and hers widened and she looked away.
âSee? Totally into you.â Danny rolled his eyes.
âWhatever, Tuck.â He continued eating his burger. But somehow, he couldnât shake the stare off of him. As if she was looking past his flesh and staring at the very ghost that made his soul.
He shivered at the thought.
Oh God above, it went to her school.
The creepy thing goes to her school.
She wondered how it got into her school. She wondered why, of all things, it had to attend as a student.
Mondays where truly the worst days of the week.
She had learned the creatures name was Danny Fenton, official school weirdo, son of the two most successful ghost hunters (oh the irony), and all-round loser she shouldnât interact with (according to the Mexican girl that approached her). She didnât really care though, as much as she was weary, she still wanted to know what it was. And she was determined to find out.
The bell rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. She sighed and pulled her books from her locker. She didnât want to be late.
Hours later, school was long over, and Nelia was busy at work in the kitchen, kneading dough for her second batch of strawberry calzones, the first already in the oven. Her mother stood at in front of the doorway, watching her.
âThatâs a lot of dessert calzones for 4 people.â
She finished kneading and started rolling out the dough. âOh no, ours are part of the last batch. Most of these are offerings.â She turned to her mother. âIâm going to the Cemetery after dinner. To pay some respects.â
Her mother sighed. There was no talking her out of this. Every time they go someplace new, she always paid her respects at a local gravesite. She stopped trying to prevent her a long time ago.
âWell, just be back before midnight. But in the meantime, let me help you close the ones youâve already filled. We could talk, use some mother daughter bonding time.â She smiled and nodded at her mum, handing her a spare apron. She gladly took it and set to work beside her daughter.
âHave you heard? Thereâs a story I heard. They say this town has some kind of ghost heroâŚâ
It was late in the evening, and she had paid her respects at the last grave when she saw him.
And he was oh so very much Alive.
Silver white hair adorned his head like a glowing crown. Striking, electric green eyes, a black jumpsuit with white boots and gloves. Veins, across his skin, visible with the implication of pure green death flowing in them, the sound of each breath he takes. A pulsating buzz emitting from his chest, almost sounding like a beating heart. These where the features of Amity Parkâs local hero and (dead) celebrity, Danny Phantom.
And he had just landed in front of her.
âUm, are you ok? Itâs pretty late out.â
She blinked at first, startled to hear him talk, but composed herself enough to speak.
âAh, yes Iâm fine. Just, paying my respects.â She gestured to the grave and the basket of food.
âOh, really? Thatâs nice of you! Apart from family, hardly anyone pays respect these days.â
âYes, itâs something I try to do everywhere I go. Speaking of respect, whereâs yours?â
Danny blinked. âMy what?â.
âYour grave. I have to pay my respects to you. This is the only cemetery in town, but I didnât see your grave.â
Danny froze in shock. He hadnât really thought about it.
âOh. I kind of, uhm, donât have one?â Because Iâm not really dead.
It was Neliaâs turn to be shocked. And then she was angry. Was this town really so ungrateful that they didnât have a grave for their hero? That wouldnât do.
âWhere do you want one?â
âWhere would you want your grave? Iâm going to make you one.â
âYour⌠going to make a grave for me?â
âOf course? Itâs only common decency, a basic right to the dead. I might not have your body, but if I have a photo to at least mark your image, it would do.â
Danny was stunned by this gesture. No one had offered him a grave before. So, he told her about his ideal spot.
Weeks later, in a secluded spot in the woods, he stands with her above a freshly dug grave, underneath a willow tree, facing directly at the night sky marked with a picture of him in his ghost form. She drops a plate of calzones and lights some lavender incense. She pays her respects and stands back letting him trace over the picture and admire the grave. Itâs not the best grave, but itâs also the only one heâs received. He couldnât help it, as a few tears dripped from his eyes. It was a sweet gift.
He turns to her, clasps his hand in hers. He manages to choke out between tears.
She stares back at him. This action, itâs so⌠human. She senses familiarity, like she could almost imagine him when he was aliveâŚâŚ
The connection between the dead boy and alive ghost hits her like a train, all the similarities adding up. She smiles at him.
âItâs your grave. You should bring your friends to see it.â
His eyes widen in panic, wondering how she found out. She shakes her head.
âI wonât tell anyone, I promise.â
He relaxes and nods, letâs go of her hands and they stare back at his very own grave. Sam and Tucker are going to flip when they see it.
That night, sheâs back in her room, wide awake, thinking of everything that happened. His hands were cold, but not like death cold. Like he had stuck his hands in the freezer. His tears were so real.
This boy, who was dead yet alive. Walking perfectly on the line between life and death, tittering to neither side.
SchrĂśdingerâs boy indeed.
