Alright, this is actually a sort of challenge for me. Along with the story 'Chasers,' I've been experimenting with different point of views for my writing. Normally, I don't write in first person, it just feels too personal and too limited in my opinion. But I'm trying to grow as a writer, not just be some teenage amateur. I want to do something with these writings, make people happy (or creeped out, as the case may be) about what I'm doing. So, after listening to a song created by the Vocaloid software – it's oddly my taste and the songs are very fun to listen to, remember that please before bashing me – I decided that maybe my favorite character deserved a little time as the star of the show. So, in other words, Sora is not my main hero in this one, neither are Roxas or Riku the emo bugger. I only hope I did you justice.

Disclaimers: Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, or the Vocaloid song "Kagome Kagome" are not mine in anyway.

Final note here. As I mentioned before, this is a challenge fic for me. I'm also writing a similar story on Fictionpress so... Both original and fanfiction editions will eventually be put up, if anyone cares to read them both.

Rock on, reviewers.

-ForbiddenKHFan216

Phantasms: Chapter One: Dreaming

'C'mon, big sister, let's play, let's play!'

The children's voices... They always sound so eagerly around the darkness of the small room, filling it to the brim with their happiness. I guess they're happy about having a new friend there to play with them. They sound almost ecstatic at the idea of playing with me, whoever they are. They're just so happy.

I can only hear their voices, so lost am I in the darkness.

Although my vision is normally very good, twenty twenty even, if I try to get a good look at the kids, I can only see the vaguest outlines of their bodies. They are all covered in shadows, almost like they had been drenched in black ink, hidden within the dark confines of the room.

It was the dream again. The dream always started this way, with me looking into the darkness. I can hear the children's excited voices, each one suggesting a new game to play with the 'big sister' as they call me or rejecting one of the other's ideas. Just like always.

Whenever I try to look closer at them, and I always do, a faint throbbing pain suddenly appears behind my temples. It always increases with an even fiercer beat whenever I attempt to move forward to look at the kids. It was... like a warning. Like someone telling me not to look at them, to only look at the brightness of their neat little dresses and suits flying through the air. They jump through the air, each one eagerly calling out the names of games and the names of the other children and as always, 'Let's play, big sister, let's play!'. Red, blue, green, pink, white... all of the colors of the rainbow are present in the clothes of the children; as they sing loudly about playing with me, they almost look like exotic parrots, all decked out in feathers of cotton and silk. It was almost...

Frightening.

The children laugh in their excitement, their cheerfulness mixing with a strange combination of anxiety and delight, like they were about to play a very dangerous game with me. I shiver in fear, fighting off an equally as bizarre feeling of familiarity. They circle around me, each dancing in the air with a reinvigorated passion. As I back away from them, the feeling of forgetting increases, the intense emotion bringing tears to my eyes. I knew these children, didn't I? I knew them...

As I stare at them, one of the little boys turns toward me, holding his little palm out to me. He smiles broadly at me as he toddles over to me, clutching at one of my hands eagerly. The others continue to dance, singing loudly in their eagerness. I turn to look at the little boy, staring at him in confusion. His spiky blond hair bobs in the darkness as he watches the others dance. His dark blue eyes, previously filled with childlike hyperness and happiness, fill with sadness as he holds my hand in his own little grip. 'Let's play,' he says softly, without any real emotion in it. While he speaks, he squeezes my hand as if for reassurance. 'But I don't want to play.' he tells me once again, just like he had every night for the past ten years.

Suddenly, one of the other boys drop down from his jump and walks over to me. He takes my hand in his own and his face suddenly becomes all too clear. 'Let's play, big sister!' he declares as he leans his face leans up towards mine. His dark brown hair begins to hang just a little more heavily, as if he had just been dipped in a bucket of water. As I stare at him, a high-pitched howl of laughter emerges from the children behind us.

Red liquid begins to drip down his cheeks, staining them a bright crimson. 'Let's play!' he says again, tugging at my hands. As I'm pulled forward, the blood from his cheeks trickle into my hand and I hear a low laughter, a strangely inhumane laughter. He turns to me again, grinning broadly at me, revealing a mouthful of white fangs. They gleam in the darkness as the rest of the kids begin laughing, a cruel and inhumane laughter.

'Let's play!' They declare in unison, suddenly taking a few steps towards us. The little boy holding my hand holds it that much tighter, hanging his head as he whispers softly: 'But I don't want to play.' He glances at me worriedly before smiling weakly, nodding toward the other children in agreement, slowly letting go of my hand.

"Don't play. You won't make it if you play." He warns me softly, his little fingers slipping out of mine. For some reason, it always hurts when he leaves my side, as if he was my only token of sanity in this strange dream. He troops off to the others, who were arranging themselves in a circle. He takes his place in the middle, sitting down and closing his eyes quietly. The other children begin to dance around him, cheerfully belting out a song that I can never hear nor understand.

They still dance when the first of the flames begin to sprout up from the old floorboards. In fact, they don't even seem to notice the fire. My little guardian remains in the middle, and he is the only one who flinches away from the flames. He's the only one who can feel them, too, the others being so doped up on their own excitement.

The children still continue to dance and to play long after they burst into flames.

I sit up, gasping loudly for breath, trembling violently in shock. That dream again... I start crying, gripping at my chest in pain. A sharp ache, the same ache that always appears after I watch them burn to death, vibrates angrily through my chest, cutting off my breathing. Breathlessly, I struggle to remember, to remember anything! The details of the dream, other than the knowledge of watching children burning, begin to fade. Just like they always do. Even the memory of my little guardian begins to ebb away from me as I try to remember.

I run my fingers through my hair, struggling violently to breathe and to remember.

"Got her." I hear someone say before a heavy pressure slams into my face, throwing me back into the ground. My head slams into the wood floorboards, sending a very different kind of ache through my body. I hear a soft whimper come out of my mouth as a burning trickle makes its way down my cheek. Ow.

"Fuu, you bitch! You didn't have to hit her that hard!" I hear someone snarl, irritably yelling at the girl on the opposite team as ours. … Oh yeah... I sit up, clutching my bleeding nose in my fingers. I look up to see the rest of our gym class quickly taking sides, Fuu VS Olette. The brunette folds her arms against her chest, glaring threateningly at the older girl. For a cheerleader, Olette sure was violent. Fuu says nothing but her one visible red eye flickers in my direction. A faint smile appears on her solemn face. "Out." She says calmly, pointing with her thumb to the 'Out' bench we had labeled in the beginning of class.

I slowly start getting up, wincing as my nose throbs between my fingers, the blood gushing out like a waterfall. It really hurt... I get to my feet and without a word, I wobble over to the bench, sinking into it quietly. The blood keeps flowing, and I struggle not to faint or something. I close my eyes, avoiding the sight of the fluid. I hate blood. I really do. Olette casts a worried eye in my direction, obviously wanting to go comfort her younger friend. I give her a calm wave, keeping my head lowered. I didn't exactly need her to run after me like a worried mother-hen, after all.

'Don't play.'

The voice makes me jump in my seat, forcing my gaze to look upward. As the blood keeps trickling down into my hand, the boy's solemn blue eyes look into mine. His white clothes seem almost washed out in the brightness of the Oathkeeper Gymnasium, like he was some strange sort of after-image, like the ones that sometimes appear when Brother turned the TV off too fast. The ones that show up on the screen even after the TV is technically off. He reaches out to me again, his little fingers grasping at the air for my hand. 'Don't play.' he tells me once more, quietly staring at me. There's a strange sort of earnestness in his voice and in his eyes, like he wants to tell me something. Warn me about something, even.

Black spots dance in my vision, a wave of sickening dizziness suddenly coming over me. It's all I can do not to faint but the struggle is getting harder and harder... The boy touches my shoulder, his icy touch pressing through my P.E. shirt.

Like all of the other ghosts I've seen, he goes right through me.

'Don't play. Danger. Danger.' He whispers quietly as all of the noise in the gym suddenly dies off, like someone had just clicked the mute button. Olette looks over at me as I stare at the little boy. I can see her lips move, but no sound comes out. None that I can hear, anyway. 'Run.' The boy tells me before a wave of pain echoes through my head, the black spots becoming larger. I clutch at my head for a moment before I tumble forward, collapsing on the gym floor... As I lie there on the floor, unconsciousness begging to drift over me, I hear one last thing before my classmates pick me up and scream for someone to go get the coach.

'Don't go, Xion.'