Hello guys, the monikers had originated from the series, though I would also like to give some love to the series called Ghostgirl by Tonya Hurley, for it has the ghost characters names based on their deaths as well.

TW: Description of (un)dead people

The topic of depression and/or even suicide is a sensitive subject, and I pray that I'm not messing anything up, or portray it any more or less of any side. Remember, people are different from one another, and they experience and react to things varyingly as well. In this story, we have Olive, and she'll operate in what I think her personality, her traits, her attitudes would allow her to behave.

Chapter 3

In the Crack of Dawn We Find Daylight

Like any other fictional book she had encountered, stories usually start with protagonists stating they were probably the most bland person to ever breathe. More so, in a world full of somebodies, they're insignificant, irrelevant, hiccups in society. Although these stories, even if people were aware of their fantasm quality, hold a form of sun in people's lives that Olive, for herself, couldn't help but still live in them. It's nice really, to have something to relate to, and then know that there's an adventure that awaits despite the routinely bleak suffering.

Olive, she really was no one special. But the thing was, maybe that's how every single human living on earth think of themselves? That's got to be the single most rational reason an irrational person like her could come up with in a situation she's in. Possibly, the phrase, "everyone's unique" was raising flags into warning every single body that life was more than one can think of it. There were things out there that human pair of eyes cannot see, and minds cannot fathom. Bigger, grander things kept secret by nature only to be found in the separation of soul and body.

Where did she get such philosophy?, one might ask. She must've hit her head pretty hard on that rock surface when she fell, causing her brain to come up with such surreal hallucinations, or maybe, just maybe, the silhouettes looking back at her were real, as existing as her own ghostly body.

Whichever it was, she accepted the situation with an optimism of a toddler just learning to partner few words altogether. It was confusing, yet exciting at the same time. All around her, the silhouettes were frigid, the yellow rays from outside passing through where skin were supposed to cover. A chill might've knocked her unconscious if it weren't for the fact that she was one of them.

One of them alike one of those, say, a half alive, questionably dead, woman who was staring at her with lifeless eyes, singed hair, and tattered blouse. She gulped as she scan the burned flesh underneath the woman's clothes.

All around her men and women, younger, older, unidentified or have met gruesome ends, she'd seen. They were all silent, staying still with eyes boring onto her own dull ones. She glanced momentarily at what seemed to be only living person towering over her, his eyes twinkling with mischief as was his mouth chuckling at her bewildered face.

She cleared her throat, frowning her brows, trying to clothe herself with bravery just to shut the man up.

"Hi guys" she waved, raising her lips into a smile. Immediately the room dropped its tight resolve, whatever tension seemed to cease as the other spirits seem to relax. She couldn't tell exactly how she'd known, but there was an energy, a tug that helped her understand the atmosphere. Despite the stone set eyes and the placid stance, she knew they welcomed her, and that was enough for her to let them in.

"Are you the Levitating Girl?" a small uncertain voice came from a height just below her elbow. What she saw made her smile even wider, and for certain her heart might've tugged. The girl reminded her of her little sister, Ellie. Though with golden curls and baby blue eyes, the little girl's innocence stare up at her with such deep trust, she couldn't help but drop to her knees, their eyes were cold but she's certain they're exactly as warm, "now, who told you of such thing?"

"Enoch did, he said you're the girl who can fly, will you show me?"

"Oh he did, now?" She tilted her head, looking at him through her lashes, her lips forming an amused smirk. She must've succeeded teasing, his cheeks heated with a soft blush, "Enoch?"

"One day, one day you will, darling"

"If I wake up, that is. I could die, you know"

She immediately sobered, her eyebrows furrowing as she was taken aback by how.. normal it seemed for the girl to just accept death. Somewhere around the hospital, her heart might've clenched for the little angel. She's too young, life wasn't supposed to make her grow up way too fast... then take her away just as sudden.

Enoch cleared his throat, kneeling down next to her. His warmth was radiating, affecting her into a strange comfort. She glanced at his blue eyes, smiling slightly. He nodded.

"That's why you're taking good care of yourself, right? Because you still want to play with dollies, swim with the mermaids," She watched as he talked, his usual snarky tone was replaced with a soft, reassuring one. Suddenly, she thought of him, hovering over her body beside her hospital cot, assuring her of fast recovery, and she believes in him. He caught her stare and winked, "and we still want to see the Levitating Girl fly, don't we?"

The little girl shifted her eyes from his to her, her feet rocking from soles to her toes.

"We will, won't we, Claire?" He titled his head, his brows disappearing in his light hair.

Seeing him now, it was strange to even think of him as some child of the Grim Reaper, the ferryman of souls, Charon, or even an allusion to Hades.

"Okay" Little Claire smiled, bouncing on her feet, "lets go Levitating Girl, we've been waiting so long to meet you!"

She looked at Enoch briskly before mentally being dragged by the little girl.

The room was an open office of some sort. Desks were piled evenly, distributed with four columns and four rows. Despite the overcrowded state of the room, the tables were left clean and untouched, and Olive was certain Enoch was not the type of person to go touching tables just for the sake of it.

But onto the most interesting at hand were those who occupied the said crowd. The first spirit to approach her was the same lady earlier, who might've been caught in a fire. Up close, Olive wouldn't think it was the same person, for what she imagined to have had a face full of anger and resentment was a woman with strong features contorted to a pleasant, friendly smile.

"I'm sorry, Claire can be somewhat excited most of the time" Olive would've easily shrugged off the unnecessary apology if it weren't for the fact that she was actually communicating with a person who looked as though she had just stood up and walked herself to the park right after a scene of an action film.

"I understand, my sister's like that all the time. It's good too, that despite the situation, she's still a chipper."

"We do whatever we can to keep her happy, especially in here, whatever this dimension is, there's still no certainty

"But I'll bet my life, you know? I'll bet my life for that kid. She deserves to live, there's so many things out there for her to discover, so many things that will bring a smile to her face." Olive stared as the compassionate woman stare meaningfully to the little girl. Claire was now sitting upon a bench, humming an eerie lullaby along with a man whose back was on them.

Olive may not know of her name, may not know the whole capacity of her personality, seeing as she, apparently, does not feel anything as well; as Olive correctly deduced. Yet, she understood how well and deep the woman's heart could weave people into it.

"they should still be playing with their toys or still find mud and puddles the most fascinating things in the world, not making acquaintances with death, and learn how to mourn for somebody, before having to shed tears over a math exam" Her voice drifted somewhat. She couldn't help but remember her little sister. How she must be dealing right now, Olive knew no amount of reassurance from anybody, even from her could make it any better. She's just so young. Even if she can forgive Olive, Olive wasn't sure if she could ever forgive herself.

The woman looked at her as though she understood, but not entirely trying to crash the boundaries she wasn't aware she'd built. It wasn't that she found her unworthy of knowing, she's not just ready to open the raw wound when it's still left bleeding.

And so instead, she blinked back in realization and finally asked the most vital question that nobody seemed to bother answering her with, "I hope you don't mind, but what the hell is happening to us?"

Finally back to what seems to be her curious, slightly panicking state, she whipped her head, glancing around the room once more, "are we like.. Enoch's hostages, is he a spirit trafficker? Will he sell us to those ghost investigators, and like, make objects move or something? Is that what the Levitating Girl is all about? Am I expected to actually levitate?"

Because if that was what her new name implied, she would surely fail at being probably dead, or somehow half alive.

The woman chuckled as her widened eyes betrayed her turmoil.

"No, not like that." She glanced at the man in question, who was thankfully minding his own business. "Come with me, Miss"

She guided Olive into the far most side of the room, where she's sure none of the spirits, especially Enoch, can hear them talk. Olive tried to perch onto the blinds, but stood her ground as she almost slipped outside the window. If the woman did notice, she made no comment on her behavior. But there's certainly a small smile that tugged.

"From little of what I know, Enoch has this ability ever since he was a child. He didn't know why he was bestowed with such gift, but here he is. And just like him, nobody knows why they're here,"

Olive glanced around once again, looking at little Claire, then to the shirt and suspenders-cladded man who was whistling a happy tune. He looked a tad older than her, probably because he wore his hair all shaggy and unkempt, or because he was more silhouette than anyone she'd seen so far; he was almost an orb, a soft flash of light, if not for his towering height.

It seemed that life did not treat him well, for there were signs of bruises on his exposed skin, and a ghost of tired, haunted eyes. However, there was a soft lift on his lips, and his hands were gentle as he played with the little girl.

"That's Stinger," The woman said, inclining her chin to the man, "not his real name"

"What, why?" Olive frowned, confused. She liked monikers and all that jazz, and she picked up that hers was probably The Levitating Girl. However, she cannot figure out why the man was a stinger. And why on earth do they have the names to begin with.

"One of Enoch's best names to be honest. He's a zoologist, though he's really passionate about beekeeping. Unlike most of us here, he's actually dead,"

"Dead dead?"

"Yeah. Never have I thought it was true, what they say, that souls still stick around if there's unfinished business, but here he is. And here we are, I believe.

"Lucky enough, unlike us, he knew his business. It's his missing wife. She left him for some kind of expedition, and there came a devastating accident around the area. Then, her body was not found. Fast forward a year later, everybody sort of gave up, saying it was a lost cause. Our poor Stinger did not, he hoped, hoped and hoped. Yet, he still died not knowing what ever happened to her."

She blinked, looking around as she eyed everything with new light. She identifies with them, she's one of them, Enoch's one of them, and just about everybody's one of them.

It was not the end, for it was still hell and earth and the heavens; there was still hope, still life, still living. They're stuck in the middle wherein they're just waiting, waiting for the fate everybody would eventually go, but with it's eyes glaring them.

Waiting, as they try to make sense of their own little lives, and what it meant to be themselves. Waiting, before the end, grasping to whatever it is they have to live for.

If she really was to die, what might be hers?

"How long is he, you know, living here?"

"He said he's been hanging around here probably a month or two before my brother, Victor, arrived.

For who knows how long it is already. Time seems to stop in this place, Miss. Our body and Mr. Enoch is our remaining link to this world."

Somewhere outside where she cannot see, there was a faint beeping. One that she associates as the heart monitor. Closer to the machine, there were murmurs of voices, however try as she might, she couldn't comprehend whom those were.

"I remember, kinda weird to see my own body face to face. I didn't know that's how I look like, if you know what I mean"

"I suppose so." The woman merely blinked at her, no doubt, labeling her cuckoo. However, to compensate, she, though, still nodded in politeness.

"How 'bout you, what are you called?"

"I'm called Strong Girl" she said, looking down to her feet, her cheeks would've colored if they could.

"Strong Girl?"

"Yes. When I was alive, I work as a volunteer, mostly for the fire department. My brother and I have this huge dream of becoming superheroes-"

"which you totally are"

"-oh dear, thank you for that." Olive glanced around, looking for the same face in the crowd, wanting to talk to the woman's brother in order to thank him for his service. "He died a few years back"

The time forwarded lazily, for she knew she'd been there for quite a while, though not exactly how long. Strong Girl had relied to her stories of her own brother, Victor. One of the few whom Enoch had taken the time to know the names. As the story progresses, Olive found herself staring at the man in question, who was lounging at one office chair as though he was not surrounded by death.

Victor appeared to be his closest friend; the best friend he allowed himself to have. He was more alive then, his laughter booming with boyish mirth, instead of his usual cynical allure. Looking at him, he seemed fitting with the spirits looming around, as though Victor, and many others had appeared more alive than he was now. How much did life took him, that he's more comfortable in the dark?

And how deeply does she relates to that? Of discovering that life, in a way, is predetermined to ruin you no matter how hard you struggle? Fairness isn't as simple as the television makes it to be. No amount of kindness could make you win if the world is angled with all the harsh edges.

Yet how strange it is, to think of life when you are about to die. There's a vitality of breath when you drown, and the appreciation of time when it's running out.

She looked at Little Claire, the smile on her face still reflecting what Olive had missed in the world. The sunshine after the entirety of darkness, the hope amidst the desperation, the life in the decay. If she were to die, will she wrap everything up quite nicely? Did she already made all the ends meet?

Could she really leave without saying good bye?

Her feet led her to the only man on the room who was carrying his physical body. His body radiates some form of electricity, of which she felt herself succumbing in a moment of breathing, it was as though bring recharged; like a machine she could almost feel herself, her skin, her hair, the ground she's walking upon.

Upon feeling her, Enoch plugged in his earbuds and exaggerates by raising his music's volume few bars louder than he normally does. Olive huffed, glaring at him as he obviously, blatantly ignores her.

"Hey" She tried, her arms wrapping themselves across her chest. There was no use trying to touch him, because she couldn't,and he'll only use it against her.

"Hey Enoch" She tried again, but to no avail.

She groaned, seemingly upset. He grinned as he felt her stare as though lasers against the back of his head.

"Fine." For about a heartbeat long, it was her turn to grin, realizing just then that she has the upper hand after all.

He waited, sensitive to the energy she's unknowingly giving. Among everybody, she has the brightest one yet, and was also the warmest; much to his chagrin because he finds her tiresome. She momentarily disappeared from behind him, no longer keeping him steady by her expressive eyes. He demands himself to stay put, to concentrate on the steady rhythm of life practically shouting at him by the earbuds, and yet he spun around, looking.

As what was expected, she long gave up and, on his part, thought she frolicked around and joined Claire, they were seemingly bonded right from the start.

However, as he went back and spun to his spot, "what the-" he jolted, catching himself off guard as he stared face to face, quite literally, with the Levitating Girl, her ashen skin a few inches from his pale face. Around them, some had the audacity to laugh, but he couldn't move as his heart thump loudly against his chest.

"Now, do I have your attention?" she asked, seemingly floating, true to her namesake, in front of him. "Fine, fine, you have me, what is it? Geez" He raised his hands in defeat, deciding to just give her his time otherwise who knows what she'd do. She even looks like the kind of spirit who'd walk pass his body just for the sake of it.

She glared at him icily, all the warmth he secretly associate her with has gone, even from her perpetually considerate eyes.

Yes, definitely the type who would use her "ghost" powers just to make fun of him.

"First of all, the Levitating Girl, really?" it was amazing that, when considering the nature of spirits, she could easily jump from one emotion to another. She smiled easily to him, as though she did not scare him just a heartbeat ago. He huffed a breath, still trying to calm his nerves down.

"Got any brighter namesake?"

"Yes, how 'bout my name? You know, that thing parents' give children to have their identities?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, grinning widely and immediately faltering it once she returned her own. "If we're just going to argue about names, then I suggest you go back there, you're only wasting your time"

She groaned dramatically. If she was alive, she would've planted her forehead on his table, but she's technically not. So as to avoid any embarrassing situation, she decided to clear her throat, pulling a professional stance in hopes he'd come around.

"Time, hmm, yes, that's what I'm here for" she inclined her chin, standing tall, however could actually easily be towered by Enoch's ranging height. "I would request for you to accompany me to the completion of my bucket list"

With an optimism of a newborn child's shrill first cry, of just discovering that the world outside was actually a load of bull, he stared at her dead in the eyes and said, "no"

"Come on Enoch, it'll be fun" if it was surprising to see someone act in such way to the aloof O'Connor, nobody dared to break the moment. With their idle time waiting, it had been so long since they've seen something quite extraordinary.

"Your fun and my fun doesn't constitute to similarity"

She eyes him narrowly, which had sent shivers run down his spine as the sudden whip of cold air pass by. "I'll follow you around"

"Nah, you can't"

She could. Unlike the others, she painfully, annoyingly could. Perhaps it was her personality that made her entirely attuned to him. If he had to guess, she probably bothers people just for fun.

"Oh I assure you, I most certainly can"

"Are you holding me hostage to my extra ordinary talent?" Knowing he can't do much about it, he groaned, yanking his ear plugs away to displace his annoyance.

"Not gonna say it's extraordinary.."

He raises his brows, and she easily caught herself, "right, yes, an exquisite talent, indeed."

She leaned onto him, slipping onto the table that separated both of them. She found no problem with the proximity, however he for one, was painfully aware. He could see the shadow of specks her dark eyes should've sported, and the light freckles that littered on the bridge of her nose "Listen, Enoch, my main squeeze,"

"please don't say that again-"

"I know, deep in my detached beating heart, you'll enjoy it too"

She twirled around, looking at everybody else in the room. The sun was beginning to set outside the confines of the room, the rays passing by the silhouettes and he vaguely thinks about what one might think when they happen to pass by and see him alone in an abandoned room, seemingly talking to himself.

There came a soft sigh from her lips, her feet supporting her heavy thought. He knew, he'll regret it later, however his heart tug guiltily as he saw her odd sad, sad eyes, "I'm not afraid of dying, I'm just afraid of what I'm leaving behind"

Well bullocks to that! What else can he do but nod?

He glared begrudgingly as she performed some type of victory dance, albeit quite awkward as she still hasn't gotten the life of it yet, but she's not caring about his judging eyes. The others looked at her in surprise and light envy, their hips mildly copying her movements; Claire however, had successfully shimmied and twirled. As the light came planting itself to her dead eyes, so was the slow downfall of the sun to his, his hope for unbothered days faltering in such torturous stroke, and the night will be long, promising itself of a nightmare.

Review? :)