An A-C guide on Manipulation

New York held a supernatural gleam: Maybe it was the unsolved murders, the secrets of taxi workers and their passengers, or even something as simple as another baby's cry, in the city that never sleeps. What ever the reason: Robert Kryticos finally felt it.

With his pudgy green coloured sack hanging limply from his shoulder. Hood risen on his rain coat, Bobbie felt like a criminal. And maybe that is what he was, or what he'd become. What sort of child sneaks out of their flat, to go and help a ghost? His cheek still flushed from the goodnight kiss Catchy gave him, hair in disarray from his fathers playful ruffle. Such things always caused his heart to beat in humiliation, now Bobbie craved them.

Looking down at his wrist watch (A corny replica of Spider Man), seeing that it was only five minutes passed eleven. Ryan said to meet him at here at half past ten. What if the ghost had forgotten? What if it was all a trick? Ironically the glasses pinched his hip, as he tried to get comfortable against the wall he was leaning against. No. Ryan was real. Tightening his jacket, Bobbie felt his heart sending fearful waves of warmth straight to his finger tips. Sleep was far from his mind. A loud screech of a tyre, followed by a howl of a wounded cat sent Bobbie jumping a foot in the air. Eyes swam with tears.

He wasn't going to wait around any longer. Clasping firmly on his bag strap, Bobbie ran. Trainers sprayed water on the cuffs of his trousers: such jumpable puddles didn't interest him. His throat began to feel like a steel rod had been shoved down it. Sweat trickled down his brow. Only three more blocks and he would be home. Safe. Warm. He didn't care if he woke up his family in his haste to get inside. Just as his body, twisted around the lamp post, Bobbie went flying. A startled cry passed his lips, as hands shot around, grazing against the damp concrete. Forehead banged against his arm, ankle twisted awkwardly. Finally landing in a heap, bloody, crying, Bobbie rose his head up slowly looking towards the grin of Ryan Kuhn.

"Going some where?"

Ryan cackled like a hyena. Bowing his head, looking down at his palms, Bobbie sobbed. Rolling his eyes with a sneer, Ryan stretched out his hand grabbing a fist full of Bobbie's sleeve forcing the quivering boy back onto his feet. As Bobbie stumbled trying to gain balance, his weight fell onto his bad ankle. White burning pain, flashed in front of his eyes, causing him to scream in agony. Grasping hold of Ryan's wrist he began to literally yank the man off of him.

Ryan acted as if he'd been scorched. Ripping his hand away, jumping backwards as Bobbie fell heavily against a large blue post box.

"Don't touch me. I hate to be touched!"

Screaming like a banshee: Ryan breathed heavily through clenched teeth, turning his blood shot eyes on Bobbie.

Bobbie found Ryan to be more of a hypocrite than the famous saying 'Do as I say not as I do'. He could count on one hand, when Ryan touched him. Made him whine from the intense head ache which pulsed through him, as he got unwanted visions of what he used to look like. As if knowing what he was thinking, Bobbie yelped as Ryan once more grabbed him, dragging him back the way they came. Bobbie limped as quickly as he could, pleading with Ryan to let him go.

Bobbie's head low, swaying as black dots danced in front of his clenched eyes. Just as he thought the pain would get to much he felt himself being slammed into the wall, causing his favourite action figure to dig deep within his lower back.

Ryan didn't use the palm of his hand, to grind Bobbie's shoulders into the moss coloured walls. His wrist applied just enough pressure.

"I touched you, so you would hurry up."

Snapping his teeth inches from Bobbie's throat, eyes gleaming in hilarity as the boy tried to twist himself away. Ryan allowed himself a moment to think about how sweet his blood would taste trickling down his throat. Bobbie's pained whimper tore Ryan out of his day dream. Looking down at the boy's bloody hands and obviously twisted ankle: Ryan snarled as if Bobbie had done this on purpose.

"Stop your whining. Here"

Ryan snapped, snatching a near by stick. For a moment Bobbie was confused, as his eyes looked towards Ryan's tensed hand he noticed a sleeping homeless man. Bobbie felt his face heating up. His head shook stubbornly: He wasn't about to steal. Ryan rolled his eyes, stepping forward, not caring as his foot pressed against Bobbie's ruined trainers.

"Take it. Or I'll drag you."


After an hour of walking, which should've only taken twenty minutes, Bobbie saw the large bridge which connected the hustle and bustle of New York, from the sleeping shuburbs. Bobbie felt like a weight had been added to his shoulders. Though being on the bride meant that people could see him, he was terrified. Ryan didn't seem to care. Instead of heading in that direction he tugged harshly at Bobbie's bloody sleeve steering them down another path. Towards a humming bus. Bobbie thought he was going to be sick. Suddenly he felt his hoodie being lifted up, causing his face to become shadowed.

"Wait.. what are you doing..?"

Bobbie began to stutter.

"Shut up. We can't risk you being seen." - Then in a crueller tone he began to hiss. - "They'll only see a scared little boy. They'll send you away. Play with your mind. Punish you for running away. We can't have that now can we?"

Swallowing down the thick lump wedged at the back of his throat, Bobbie forced his heavy shoes to continue walking at Ryan's brisk pace. Every so often Ryan would let out a high pitched cackle, even jump on the spot causing Bobbie to stumble which would only make him laugh harder. Louder. Anxiety began to flare. Cheeks started to burn. Though Ryan promised no one could hear him and the sidewalk was empty (expect for a few homeless men burning garbage) Bobbie still feared someone would do just as Ryan threatened. It humiliated him to the core at the mind power, Ryan had over him.

All to soon he felt the heat of the bus headlights against his damp trouser legs. Ryan chose this moment to lean forward whispering softly into his ear (this scared Bobbie more than his claws)

"Get inside. Sit at the back and be quiet."

Limping up the steel steps, should aching from the pressure of clinging onto the stick, the driver didn't even give him a moments glance. A damp cigarette butt, hung from hair greasy lips. A dark blue hat, casted a shadow over his eyes. At first Bobbie thought that he could just sneak on, instead the bus driver chose that moment to look up.

"Pay the fare or get out."

He spoke in a thick Cockney accent. Fishing around in his pocket, Bobbie fearfully dropped two dollars into the small dish, before stumbling towards the back of the bus. Just as Bobbie sat down, the bus lurched forward. A few other passengers: an elderly couple, a young male gazing into space while his head phones blasted his ear drums, and a casually but smartly dressed male with a flask in his left hand. All ignored Bobbie unaware of the caged ghost sat a few seats behind him.

Finally Ryan tugged harshly at Bobbie's wrist, forcing him to stand up awkwardly. The male with a flask in his stand had already stood up alerting the driver to come to a steady stop. As the bus hiss allowing it to dip, the male grumbled a thanks as he staggered out, heading towards a car parked near by. Bobbie didn't find this unusual - not many people trusted their car in New York unless they had a garage. Quickly climbing off, just as the doors sealed shut, Bobbie watched as the bus drove hurriedly down the gravel path. Bobbie wished he was still on it.

Wiping the snot from his sleeve, Bobbie looked towards the tall, fearful looking forest. Bouroughwood; that was where Ryan said he would be taking him. Ryan also promised to answer questions once they got there. But Bobbie couldn't wait, he needed to know why he suddenly had the gift to see horrible things. Must of all he wanted to know what Ryan hoped to find.

"What exactly do you hope to find.." - Apart from your rotting corpse -

The last part was thought with just the same venom if it was spoken. Ryan showed no sign of answering Bobbie. Despite what others might think, even walking for a spirit was tiring. Sweat began to trickle down his scalp. They'd needed too rest. Boroughwood was another ten miles. Ryan's knees wobbled at the thought. Sparing Bobbie a side glance, noticing how the boy struggled with his twisted ankle, he used that as an excuse as he pulled himself to a halt.

"We'll rest here for the night"

Ryan's voice held a snarled edge to it.

Bobbie walked a couple of steps forward, trying to keep his distance. It wasn't anything fancy, just a small dip between two large roots. At least the tree's branches were high enough to protect them from any potential rain. Looking around, Bobbie couldn't remember which way they came. It caused his stomach to twist in terror, realising how much he was starting to depend on Ryan. Setting himself down with care between the roots, Bobbie kept the walking stick close to hi just in case Ryan decided to pull any pranks.

Burying his face into the crook of his arm, Bobbie let out a shaky sigh, listening to a near by owl hooting loudly. Ryan slouched around the other side of the tree. His head suddenly felt heavy with the cages weight. How he wished he could take it off. Allowing his eyes to roll, as eyelids flickered closed, Ryan's body slumped, into a restless sleep - if ghosts were capable of such things.

Unaware of a car driving, three miles from where he sat, the male from the bus, made his short journey home.


Climbing out of his car, head throbbing Nicholas looked up towards his house. A cold shiver travelled down his spine. Shaking his head he slipped inside, not bothering to turn on the lights. Making his way into his room, Nicholas stripped himself of his clothing replacing them smoothly. His stomach twisted, as the alcohol began to take a nasty effect on his system. Pouring himself a glass of water, snatching a couple of aspirin tablets from the cabinet, Nicholas kluged them down as he made his way shakily towards his bed.

After an hour of sleep, things began to take a turn for the worse.

Nicholas's brow dripped in sweat. Expensive linen pyjama's stuck to his heaving torso like a second skin. Finger nails clawed franticly against the mattress, mimicking movements hidden within the depths of his frightful nightmare.

"Can anyone here me?!"

"Yes you bastard! Help me! Help me! ... someone, help me.."

Terrified was too light a word for what he was going through. After the fire deceased, leaving nothing but rubble and ash, Ryan was still alive. Left foot crushed by a boulder, hands blackened and blistered, straight jacket torn at the left knee exposing a jagged wound which throbbed in time with his heart beat. Laying awkwardly on his side, forced to watch as taunting flickers of light winked down at him, as searchers tried desperately in vain to seek out any survivors. Every time rubble was moved, some of it would come crashing down, narrowly missing Ryan's crumbled form. Ryan would toss pieces back up, never reaching high enough.

Rolling his head forward, not caring when the melted bars of the cage burnt his cheek bones, Ryan sobbed openly.

It wasn't fair. This wasn't how his plan was meant to go. Finger nails clawed helplessly against the ground. His foot turned icy cold. Echoing thumbs of retreating footsteps, shattered Ryan's hopes of ever being found. A part of him believed this was done on purpose. Who would want to save him anyway?

"Where is he? Please you have to find him!"

Ryan's eyes flickered, as they rolled up towards the ceiling.

"Ryan! Ryan come on! I know your alive. Ryan please! Ryan!"

"Beggar.."

Forcing himself upright, Ryan grabbed hold of the boulder. Despite the previous flames, it felt more like ice. Breathing through his nostrils, Ryan heaved the boulder aside. A wave of tears flooded down his cheek bones. Intense burning white pain flashed through out his body, smothering him like a woolly blanket on a hot summer day.

Fragments of bone broke through the flesh. Tips of his toes burnt. Ryan vomited. It hung from the curves of his cage, dribbled down his chin.

Rolling over onto his stomach, banging his foot which acted like a third wheel, Ryan heaved himself onto his hands and knees, crawling helplessly towards the door panting like a dog. Grabbing hold of the door handle, Ryan hoisted himself up. Knees buckled. Vision turned black; it took all of his might not to collapse. The hinges smoked, as Ryan rattled the door causing it to fall with a might 'crash!' Dust. Smoke. Soot. It swirled around his form like water. Stumbling across the heavy metal, his wounded foot becoming caught in the bars.

Struggling like a bear caught in a trap, Ryan wriggled, twisted. Nothing. Tears spilled down blackened cheeks. Everything was going horribly wrong very quickly. Flashes of a once great plan taunted his twitching body.

"No.."

Nicholas moaned feebly, witnessing as Ryan lay like a wounded deer in front of a poachers barrel. Upon his bed Nicholas was tangled in his thick sheets, but in the dream; hissing, slithering chains coiled around his wrists and ankles, tugging him away towards a lightless corridor.

"No..! Ryan! Ryan, look up.. I'm here, I've found you..!"

Arms began to flail. Looking over his shoulder, eyes growing large in fright, he turned scrambling screaming, the chains slithered into the darkness: turned out that the corridor didn't have a floor, as the chains vanished they were tugged as if gravity had become too heavy. They pulled Nicholas with them, causing his finger tips to become sliced against the rubble ground.

Nicholas had no clue what would be at the bottom of the darkness, he didn't want to find out. Despite the intense burning, scorching his fingers, he attempted to grab, rubble, lifeless chains even a metal chair.

"No!"

Sitting bolt up right, Nicholas thought for a fearful moment he was lost. Darkness surrounded him. After a few seconds of hysterical cries he came to realise that it was only his bed sheets. Yanking the offending object over his head, wincing as a button poked his eye, Nicholas stood up with forced dignity despite his flushing cheeks and unusually messy bed hair.


I feel so cruel right now. They're both so close to one another... Hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry for delay in update. Thank you very much to all who reviewed, on the last chapter. Please leave a review - always enjoy to know what you think.

- Signed The Broken Ghost