Well, this was meant to be a birthday present for my best friend, but her birthday was two month ago… Sorry Duck! Anyway, this story is based on our random games and the episode Bubblevision Sorry I'm not going to explain the game now. If you're interested, it's on my deviant art account. Happy un-birthday Duck!

I live on… No, that's not entirely true.

My spirit, my soul; that remains alive.

My body is gone.

I am the one who lingers in the hallway once the lights have gone out. I am the one who is no longer there when you turn around. I drift amongst my former friends and family with no perception of time other than the accounts of those around me. I can only watch as the lives of others continue until they eventually end while my own life remains static. Not that I really have one anymore…

I mean, what else do you expect from someone who has already died?

My brothers… they don't even realize I'm here. They had died some time ago too, just like me, but an ultimate evil chose to resurrect them…

Not me.

My brothers had once been at my side in the same state I am in now. They were able to see me, as I could see them. Now… now they have forgotten these memories upon being revive. They only assume the worse for me; they assume I'm still dead.

Which I am.

But they are not aware of the fact that I was also right under their noses.

Wait… they don't have noses.

Well, whatever.

The point is I constantly tried to grab their attention. I called their names. I waved as I coast around them. I was not strong enough to move solid object, unable to spell out a message; if I was lucky I could crumple a sheet of paper. Occasionally, one of them will accidentally walk through me and their hair will stand on end as a chill ran down their spine.

They just continued about their days, oblivious to me as I followed them undetected.

As I watched them, working with our monkey of a father, I became more and more depressed. They no longer played the way we had back when all three of us had been alive and happy. We were carefree, living for the moment and nothing else. We caused reckless trouble, we disturbed the peace… at least that's what they told us.

We were perfectly happy before we met them.

And that is all my brothers focus on now.

They want revenge.

They blame them for my death. For my still being dead. My father and brothers spend every waking hour trying to devise a new plan to rid the world of those who killed me. And yes, it is their fault…

But more specifically it's her fault.

If it wasn't for her I would still be alive.

…

Not that I blame her.

I grew tired of listening to my brothers' constant plans of slaughter and bloodshed. One death does not constitute another; just because I'm dead doesn't mean she deserves to be too.

I was wrong when I thought it did.

I used to hate her, despise her, for what she did to me.

I was wrong.

I shouldn't have picked on her the way I had. I know that now. I know what it's like to be picked on by my brothers; they punched me, called me dumb… I mean, they called me the dumbest! How am I the dumbest when Butch is the one that slobbers over everything?

But back to the point.

When I saw her, I saw someone weaker than me. Someone I could pick on. I saw that her sisters had treated her in a similar manner, not as harshly as my brothers treat me, but I still… I still teased her.

She lives with the same treatment I had...

With worse than I had…

And she puts up with it.

In a way I couldn't.

I chose to follow her and her sisters, once the hatred my brothers possessed grew too large for me to bear. At first I thought I would simply haunt her. I mean, isn't that what ghosts are supposed to do? Haunt those who are responsible for their death or have done them wrong?

But I began to see things about her that I had not noticed before. She tends to hold back, the last of her sisters to start any fight. She's more caring, trusting, and understanding. She's open minded, and innocent, and happy, and gentle, and honest, and… well, bubbly.

And they mock her for it.

They say she's the weakest link, the "baby" sister. They call her a dumby, just like me. They think she can't handle herself, merely because she's not as vicious or brutal as her sisters. And she takes it. She takes it and throws it right back at them. They insult her and push her around, but she shows them just how tough she is each and every time.

…I wish I could do that. I caved in when I was bullied. I would just let their mocking continue without a word.

Not her.

I chose to follow her more closely than her sisters, curious as to what she did in her spare time. She seemed to keep to herself every now and again, playing with her stuffed toys and crayons while her sister's read or played videogames. Every now and again she would turn, like my brothers had, feeling the eerie presence of another person's stare.

And then one day she stared straight at me.

I froze, petrified. I was so sure she could see me, I didn't know whether to be overjoyed that some living person had actually noticed me, or afraid that I had been caught spying. She squinted, her nose wrinkling as she stared at me. I briefly note of how cute she seemed, feeling that someone was there, and being one hundred percent correct, but coming to the conclusion that she had been mistaken, and returning to her previous activity.

I quickly began to calm as she did, my mood dropping to a much more melancholy frame of mind.

Oh, how I wish she could see me…