c'rizz moon |d8 cb fin|

:|rizz moon|:

”mother and father call my hobbies silly, they say that it's not real. they push my little sisters away and say i'm not normal. they say lighting candles in my room is not only a safety hazard but a waste of time when i could be focusing on an actual trade, one that will amount to something in my life. speaking to ghosts, they tell me, is abnormal for someone of my age. can you believe that?”

the mahogany-red candles burn a scent of sweet cinnamon, just like the graham crackers that joshua arnett and i ate when we ran to his house after school every day. his mother and father understood our obsession with speaking to the dead. even when we ran out at night, they found the stories we came back with to be fascinating. mr. arnett would scratch my dark brown head of hair, playfully of course, and respect my interests, as abnormal as they may be and as any father figure should.

that was, at least, until i ran to their home one night after a run of ghost-hunting in a house rumored to be haunted by a family that lived there during the dark days. i returned alone, and i had to be the one to tell them that the house’s current inhabitant was not welcoming any ghost-whisperers. his gun was evident of that.

”joshua, i’ve kept my promise. i haven’t went hunting in years, not after that…”

the flames of the candles pushed rapidly. some may say it was the wind from my window, but i say it’s joshua telling me he’s proud. he’s proud that i’ve shrugged off the nay-sayers and kept to our passion, despite it demoted to just my room.

they all call my hobby an abnormality.

no, they are wrong. it is a paranormality. supernatural, but very real.