Ghosts of the past

Dave Russel's hands lift steadily away from his lips, they part, and
return by his side. As the air vents back into his chest, he raises his
head, and for a second, almost smiles. The corners of his lips tighten,
forming taut creases...
He sighs, forcing his arms against the arms of the settee, and pushing
himself up to a stand. It's as if he's not sure where he is for a
while, glaring across the room methodically, but soon he starts to
settle, and his posture loosens...

A quick rip parts the sachet and Dave pours the rocky brown granules
into a ceramic cup. He grabs the milk from the side, slopping out the
last dregs whilst filling the remainder of the cup with hot water from
the kettle. With that done, he takes a moment to admire the potent
aroma.
He twists suddenly, throwing his gaze across the kitchen table,
targeting a worn looking note pad. There's a biro stored in its spiral
bindings which he reaches for, slipping it out with one hand and taking
the pad with the other. He flips it open, the pages are crammed, each
one as he flips it by. The writing looks loose and confused... Episode:
01/10/1996, Episode: 15/4/1999, Episode- Little headings like that top
each entry. Finally he stops at a blank spread and immediately puts pen
to- He halts just for an instant,
Episode: 8/9/2002.
I think his name was Paul, Paul... something. I don't think he was
afraid of us, he was afraid for us...
It's happening more often now, only three weeks since the last
one...
Dave lifts the pen hesitantly, desperate to get the reality of the
experience down at its full strength. Then he smiles warmly, returning
to his pad.
Paul absolutely loved to play, whatever we game could come up with...
We'd make up games all the time.
He lifts his head, but his expression has become, remorseful. He
turns, looking around himself slowly, carefully, until he completes a
full circle. He's looking for something... In disappointment, he
returns to the pad, clutching the pen with damp palms.
I still can't be sure weather he's gone or dead.
As he glanced at the coffee it instantly lost its appeal...

Louis Russel, Mr Louis J Russel... He flips through the post, not
looking surprised as his name doesn't appear. Casually, he casts the
bunch to the ground. Dave slouches deeper into the settee, his brow
tightening, looking bored now. But then he smiles again, in that
'almost' way he did before and delves into his pocket, dragging out his
pad. He flicks patiently through the notes, reaching for the pen but in
a fluid arc his decision switches and the pen is deposited on his
lap.
A giddy grin creeps across his face, seeps behind his eyes and into
his mind. Dave's eyes narrow subtly. For some reason, he begins
studying the patterns on his shirt and then, his arms rise up to his
face, coming together, clasping across his mouth and all the breath
falls from his chest.

"So, what time is it then?"
Marcus scratches his head. "Dunno, lost my watch."
That's just like him, two days after he's bought the bloody thing and
it already manages to disappear off the face of the planet. Well, until
I can afford one we're stuck to guessing the time. I'll survive just as
long as I'm not late home, I've got a ton of homework due.
"Well done, Marcus" I moan. "Hey Paddy, how's your mum then?"
"She'll be fine, not much pain."
"Can we sign her cast?" Marcus calls. I can't help but chuckle at the
guy, Paddy don't look so amused though. He looks kind of annoyed, or,
no- he's staring at something, looks like he completely missed the
question.
"What if he breaks his arm as well?"
He's staring at Paul, who's cackling like a baby on the swings. The
rest of us all sat down here on the bench because we were getting sick
of those bloody swings, Paul can't get enough though. Though.
"What?"
I realise I've been hypnotised by Paul's happy play again, now I've
completely lost the question.
"If he breaks his arm... Won't he be frightened of going into
hospital?"
The smile drops from my face, I turn away so Paul doesn't see it.
"With good reason as well!" I'm whispering, why the hell am I
whispering?
"He's right, but what can we do? He could fall off the swing right now
and-"
"Shh!"
Marcus scowls... His mouth opens but he isn't saying anything. I can
guess what he wants to say, and neither of us wants Paul to hear
it.
"Either way," Hisses Paddy, "We'll have to work something out."
Marcus's head sways, and he holds it moodily. "How the hell did we get
into this mess?"
"It's so long ago I can't remember." I smile, trying to think how it
all began.
"Paul?" I yell. His usually cheery face is blank. He heard every
word.
"Wha-"

Quickly Dave's arms drop his chest inflates and he sits alert. "Twice,
In one day!"
He scrambles for his notebook, for the latest free page-
Episode: 8/9/2002, AGAIN!
There's no doubt in my mind now that the fourth person was this, Paul,
he was the one. We were scared, scared in case he had to go to
hospital, that someone would scan him! He was afraid of it too. It was
hard for us to look at him like that, He was usually so happy here...
But -
Someone starts hammering at the door
- But... but what? But he was-
Someone frantic continues hammering at the door.
"Wait a God-damned minute Lou!"
"Open up!" Barks the gruff caller, "I need the toilet for cryin' out
loud!"
-he was in danger!
"Right, I'm coming"...

Lou groans, dragging up the fly on his posh looking work clothes as he
flings open the door. "You should realise how disrespectful it was to
keep me waiting outside my own bloody flat." He looks aggravated, but
too relieved at having not wet himself to really mouth off.
"So, you had another episode?" Lou advances into the kitchen spotting
a convenient cup of coffee waiting right there, still warm too. He
takes it up and sips away cheerfully.
"Yep, Paul was in it again, -" He catches Lou's confused look, "Paul
is, it's him!"
"Oh, the mystery man from your memories? Tell me more, cus."
Dave takes a seat at the table, "He's playful. No, that's just one
side of him, he's... He's... Vulnerable as well."
In a jolt Lou seems to realise just how fascinated he is, and resents
having to admit it.
"It's as if we were, protecting him, hiding him." Dave pushes himself
back, getting out of his chair, he's uneasy, begins glancing about the
place again. The eerie panic is attacking Lou as well.
"What's up with you?" He calls softly. He doesn't want to disturb the
volatile looking man.
"There's something in here!" Dave is breathing shallower, he is
confused, staring about at everything everywhere.
"Come on Dave, you're messing me up, calm down." Lou paces across the
room and grasps Dave firmly. The judder startles him and he starts to
come around.
"There was me, two friends I had back then, and him. Paul. He is around
any more."
Lou steps back, carrying a weight of genuine concern on him. He takes
the coffee cup sombrely, turning it up and letting the contents splat
in the sink, then twists on the cold water tap and fills it up in a
rush. "I think you need this." He announces. "It's-... Dave?"
Dave is not around any more...

Dave Russel's hands lift steadily away from his lips, they part, and
return by his side. As the air vents back into his chest, he raises his
head, and smiles... There is an object in his palm, a shiny, metallic
orb.
"You ok?" Lou steps slowly towards Dave.
"Yeah, It's just, I - I thought one of them was in here."
"One of what?" Lou's brow begins to glisten with sweat, his palm
tremors as he reaches for Dave, knelt on the floor before the old
storage cupboard in the hall. There are old clothes and boxes all
around him in a strewn heap.
"They found us. They came and they took him back."
"Paul?"
"Yes."
"I suppose you could say, it's only fair after all, he was one of
them."
"Wh-," Lou's lips are paralysed.
"Paul gave us all one of these, they were meant to wipe our memory of
him after he left... I guess it didn't work, not forever." Dave
smoothes over the device in his hand. "I must have packed it without
even realising when I moved here."... He sighs remorsefully," We never
had a chance of stopping them, after all, we were just a bunch of kids
and they were..."
"What?"
"Powerful enough to kill us all."