#ghvsting

[ghvst-ing]

The shake in his hands is almost imperceptible, but still there as he holds his phone in his large, calloused fingers.

After years of active service, countless years of handling a sniper rifle, you’d think he’d be completely still at all times. And he is, but the emotions bottling inside him prevents it.

He hits the record button on the camera app the second his seven year old steps onto the stage, dressed up in a costume for the character she was playing as.

He feels proud.

Watching her as she so confidently says her part aloud, shifting into her role easily with an elated smile tugging at her lips once she notices his presence in one of the many seats before her.

Simon, being the tank of a man that he is, stands out amongst the crowd, surrounded by the parents’ of the other kids that came to witness the performance.

All goes well, and as the play comes to an end, and the parents’ cheer while the children on stage take a bow, he stops the recording. It pauses when he zooms in on your little girl, his lips quirking up in a rugged smile underneath the black surgical mask he wore.

His gaze drops, fingers tapping away at the screen as he closes the app, opening another, and finding your contact at the top of the list of the limited people he had saved.

He barely manages to send the messages before his daughter runs up to him from the stage, along with the other kids that rushed to their own parents, and clung onto his thigh, staring up at him expectingly with a face that resembled yours closely.

Attachment sent

Look at our little girl love Sent 16:48

He stuffs his phone into his pocket, brown eyes crinkling in the corners before he lifts her up into his arms, and she squeals in happiness.

It was for moments like these that he continued fighting.

Wish you were still here we both miss you Sent 16:49

[ghvst-ing]

Simon is a light sleeper.

So it’s no surprise he wakes to even the smallest of noises, the quietest disturbances that wouldn’t bother most.

The soft creak of the door is what rouses him from his slumber this night, and as his eyes blink open tentatively, adjusting to the darkness within his bedroom, he could just barely notice the silhouette of his little girl.

He lifts his head from the pillow with slightly squinted eyes, watching as she makes her way towards his bed. Her feet padded softly against the floorboards, a stuffy you got her when she was just a newborn held tightly in her arms.

“What’s wrong, sweet’eart?”

The endearment tumbles from his lips easily, his voice gruff with sleep, yet complemented by a gentle undertone that was reserved only for his child, one filled with adoration.

“Nightmare…” She whispers, her bottom lip trembling into a frown.

Simon holds back a sigh as she stops by the foot of the bed. He shifts, the bed frame groaning quietly under his weight, and lifts up the comforter that covers him as an invitation.

He tried to give her a small smile. “C’mere,” he muttered in the most comforting tone he could muster.

He couldn’t quite see the red that rimmed her brown eyes, yet he could sense its presence from the shakiness in her voice, laced with sleepiness.

Without hesitation, she climbed into the spot beside him, curling into his chest with a sniffle. Her small body fit against his as a large arm circled around her, rubbing circles on her back over the material of her soft pink pajamas.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, sweet?” He asked, his brow barely rising in question as he let her snuggle up to him.

His hand found its way to her cheek in the darkness, a calloused finger wiping away the dampness that remained on her supple skin. She shook her head, gripping the ghost plushie tighter.

Silence fell between them, and he rested his eyes for a brief moment, adjusting the comforter to rest snugly just under her chin. He understood her unwillingness to explain. He, too, never favored talking about the things his mind decided to make him relive.

“T’was ‘bout mum,” the seven year old uttered after a while, the words barely reaching his ears as she said them so quietly, tears welling in her eyes once again. Simon sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as he listened, and moved to hold her closer. “I miss her..”

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, dipping his head slowly to press a small kiss to the top of his child’s head, her ruffled hair tickling his skin.

“I miss her, too.”

It has been hard since your passing, the loss so sudden. But it was the reality he had been given.

“So much..”

[ghvst-ing]

SNEAK PEAK FOR MY FIC — Piece Me Me Back Together.

materialist if anyone’s interested

It’s the sound of gunfire that brings you back to reality.

Your train of thoughts is interrupted by the piercing noise. While slightly dulled from the distance, it was prominent in your ears, ringing out through the dingy hallway that led to stairs, which held unkempt, empty cells, save for the one you were trapped in.

You let out a breath that you kept within your lungs, waiting for something, anything other than the sound of bullets cutting through the air, and the occasional pained yell when one hit its mark. But nothing came.

Not yet, at least.

If this were a different time, sometime years ago, you’d think this was your saving grace. A chance to be rescued, freed from the chains that kept you in place in this hellhole.

You’d wonder how the sunlight would feel against your skin after so long. You’d delve into your mind, and try to remember the times you inhaled fresh air into your lungs, the way grass prickled your skin. How refreshing droplets of rain were when they hit your face, rolling down your cheeks, much like tears dribbling down your heated flesh, just not as salty.

However, you weren’t that person anymore. Your hopes dwindled into nothingness, into the dark pit in your chest that was once your heart, whole, and not broken into tiny shards, which held a concrete shape so long ago now.