The stars glowed coldly in the fabric of clear night sky. Their white light seemed dim near newborn crescent, still young and full of life. Sometimes the light was interrupted by black wings of flying by bats and night birds, but Thomas still couldn’t avert his gaze from the slim figure of the moon. He wasn’t new to saying up all night, abandoning sleep for quiet peace of empty at this time amusement park. Somehow, it felt serene instead of creepy and haunted. Which, of course, it was. The Mermaid Cove’s lunapark was famous for being center of unexplained activity. It was strange that people continued to visit this place, looking forward to the thrill of meeting long past souls or ghoulish monsters. Thom himself never seen the latter and was confident that there were no mystical creatures here. Ghosts? Sure, but monsters? Never.
Every time he told someone about long dead shades of humans and animals that he saw countless times here, people would look at him weirdly. Not like didn't believe him, no. Everyone in this little town knew of the otherworldly visitors of the lunapark. But they generally didn't like Tom and didn't trust his words. He had a reputation of a weirdo, someone who didn't have anything right in their head. It angered and upset him in school, but now he just turned a blind eye. The dead were better company anyway.
He met many of them here. There was Count Vermilion, a shade of bloodied horse with the skin of its face torn off. The bay stallion often trotted around the park. Judging by his ammunition, Tom suspected that the animal stayed here since the revolution. Or the independence war.
Another visitor was Candy. They were a female-looking human clown who didn't talk. They usually hang out around the ferries wheel without any obvious reason. Tom didn't know how they died.
They were other ghost, who were much better company. Four girls with their faces painted as skulls (not the La dia de muerte kind, just plain skulls) were quite friendly. There were dressed in dark clothes and talked in hushed whispers, but were always cheerful and happy to converse. The tallest one loved ferris wheel and dragged all of them there everyday. Unless, of course, Charlie didn't beat them to it and sneaked Tom out of their watchful eye.
Charlie, usually called endearingly ‘The Friendly Ghost’, was an unusual case. He was very life-like: his skin flushed with warmth, brown eyes sparkling in the light when he smiled. And Charlie smiled a lot, not a wide grin, but small upturnings of lips. He looked to be about college age, few years older than Tom. He also wore a black leather jacket with red letters “J&M” sewed into it's back. His hair was a mess, sticking in all directions possible. He also had a slight stubble.
Charlie was a local celebrity, the most sighted ghost in the state. He wasn't shy. The ghost walked around in broad daylight, helping lost kids find their parents in the crowd, spooking off thieves and other criminals.
Also, Charlie talked him out of suicide. Thomas thought that that made Charlie his best friend and ghost spent all nights since chatting off with the teen.
And now they were sitting silently, letting moonlight wash over them. Thomas took his green eyes off the sky, glancing over the tops of trees, and attractions, and faraway rooftops of suburban houses until his gaze rested upon short figure of the ghost. Charlie was studying the sky with utmost interest, like he saw it for the first time. Thomas wondered if the ghost went to astronomical college. Or if he believed in astrology. Or aliens. Charlie seemed like a guy who would be crazy about aliens.
On their right, a loud ‘cling’ sounded. They both turned their heads toward the noise. The ferris wheel slowly moved, one cabin filled. Skull girls laughed about something and waved at them. Thomas awkwardly waved back and Charlie enthusiastically waved his hand.
For a second, Thom thought that the ghost would fall from the edge of the rooftop, but Charlie stayed where he was.
“Shouldn't you be sleeping?” suddenly interrupted the tranquil silence Charlie, his eyes again trained on the spotted sky.
“I have late shift tomorrow,” Thomas answered, hoping that his tiredness would not seep into his voice. Charlie looked at him then, eyebrows slightly raised in what the ginger presumed was ghost’s ‘bullshit’ face.
“You are torturing yourself,” Charlie retorted, clearly concerned. Sometimes he was teen’s friend, but mostly he behaved like his mother. Not his real parent, though. She couldn't care less about her failure of a child.
“You should go home and rest,” the ghost continued. He was clearly tempted to push Thom from the roof if it meant he would go home.
“I don't want to go home,” the teen snapped, feeling agitation clawing at his chest.
Charlie looked uncomfortable for a second, but soon, he was calm again. The ghost sighed.
“You can't sleep on the streets, Thom,” he said evenly, hoping that Thomas would sleep in a real bed, not a park bench.
“Millions of people sleep on the streets, Charlie, and nobody cares. Who would mind another failed child to take a bench for the night?” the teen said bitterly. Charlie’s side pressed into him, a light version of embrace. The ghost knew Thom didn't like those much.
Still, it was comforting. Thomas quietly cussed and stood up, going down the fire escape stairs. When he was on the ground, the ghost already stood next to him, his hands in the pockets of oversized jacket. Thomas picked up his backpack, which was previously leaning into the nearby wall. He nodded wordlessly towards Charlie in a quick goodbye while the ghost animatedly waved him and shouted a happy “Good Night!”. Thomas walked away, climbed over the fence and took the shortest path to his house, heeding to his friend’s advice.
