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Clouds floated away like big white whales swimming in the sky. Tommy's eyes picked one among the others, his eyes following it until he couldn't see the cloud anymore, as if they were connected by a line. The glass of the windows trembled from time to time pushed by the strong wind. The sun shone and the sky was blue, yet Tommy stayed in, slumped on the couch like a shapeless ever-sighing creature.
He was alone at home. His nana was at the hospital.
After she left, Tommy turned the radio on to fill the living room with soft music and to push away the heavy silence that settled when his nana hung up the phone. It was a call from the hospital requiring her to go there immediately.
All Tommy wanted was his uncle coming back with the groceries. That morning, instead of saying goodbye, the young witch asked for apples. He took for granted that his uncle would be back soon.
He picked a new cloud as the one he was staring at flew out of his sight, but forgot about it when, out of the blue, the soft music turned into something slower and sadder. Tommy turned his head to look at the radio and found out that the tuning dial was in a different position. He didn't give too much thought to it and stood up to put back the station he had been listening to before.
The witch would swear on his life that he could hear the sea under the music, it didn't make sense but he got distracted by his cat leaving the house. His familiar, a black and white cat named Stefan, was nowhere to be seen now. It wasn't uncommon for him, but Tommy that day wished for some sort of comfort, yet, he was alone.
Slow music filled the living again and Tommy threw himself on the couch. His face sank in the cushion as he wondered about death and the afterlife. It frightened him. It hurt him. All that awaited those like him was vanishing into the source of their magic, fading into the light and exiting time. The lack of air made him dizzy, but another sudden change of the music cut his train of thought.
Tommy stared again at the radio, the red line moved back and forth and didn't stay in one place for too long, going from station to station to white noise. Unlike the tuning dial, the witch was still even though his little heart was about to break free from its cage. His breath was shallow and he would swear on the god's antlers that the room was much colder than it was a few seconds ago.
At first he didn't notice, until his ears caught a well recognizable phrase composed by various voices.
--I'm sorry for your loss.
The tuning dial kept moving, but Tommy was unable to distinguish anything else. He tried turning the radio off, with a swift wand movement, but it turned on again by itself. The noise was unbearable at that point and he couldn't focus on pulling the wire off with his magic, instead he walked to where the radio was and pulled the wire. Silence filled the room. He stood there still holding the wire, watching the now unmoving red line. After a few seconds, which felt like hours, he went back to the couch.
--Tommy.
The witch turned around. His hands went numb. The dial was moving and the sound of waves flooded the living room even though he could see the unplugged wire hanging against the wall.
--Tommy --, repeated the voice coming out of the radio. Tommy couldn't recognize it or move his body.
--Don't be scared.
He had to leave the house.
--I just need you to know that everything will be alright.
He ran to the door, leaving it open as he got out. Three steps and his feet touched the grass just as he collided against someone. Before Tommy could take a step back he found himself trapped in a hug so cold that it felt like being submerged underwater. A hug so tight that he couldn't look up to see who was hugging him.
--You're not alone --, said the stranger as he released the witch.
Tommy stumbled upon a face he had only seen in pictures, and though his eyes could see the man right in front of him, pale and blue, he heard his voice coming from inside the house, out of the radio. The ghost opened his arms and, though Tommy was shaking out of fear, he hugged him because he didn't want to be alone on such a day, and now he wasn't.
His mother was far away, his nana was at the hospital, his cat was busy elsewhere and his uncle just died. So Gibson was right there, doing his best to give the young witch the comfort he desperately needed in that moment. It didn't matter to Tommy that the dead freng was cold like ice and damp. Tommy was glad that the ghost was there with him, he was not grieving alone and he found comfort in that as the ghost stroked his hair tenderly, just like uncle Tom did when Tommy was still a little boy.