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Alex turned in his sleep, sweating feverishly. In his dream, everything was dark, save for some fleeting and flickering shadowy images, depicting Alex's depressed and unhappy life. Some were of him by his dying mother's side, others lying, isolated, in the road, crying about what the merciless bullies had done to him. Once again, just like every night, the pictures moved in slow motion, the pictures black and white, blurry and unclear, like an old silent movie playing pictures on an old reel. Once again, his dream reached the point where he reached an old dusty box, which looked as if it had been unused for several centuries. Once again, a white, ghostly hand would slowly but suddenly reach out for Alex, grabbing for him out of the pitch darkness, and once again, just before the hand reached Alex, he would wake up, sweating like a feverish cow. He sat up straight, stunned, his back frozen, his mouth dry. He breathed heavily, playing back the things he had just seen. Everything in his room was silent, except for the rhythmic pattering of rain on his window, matching his strong, fast heartbeats. After Alex had calmed down, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his slippers with his feet. He slipped them on; stepped over the science fiction book he had just finished the night before, and headed for the living room, which also served as a mini kitchen. Here he switched on the small TV, made some hot chocolate, and slumped onto the couch. Suddenly, he sprang up.
'Oi! Whatyoudoinere?' was the muffled voice which came out of the sofa. Alex had been too preoccupied by his dream to even think about where his dad was, and so he didn't hear the consistent, contented snoring which came from the man slumped on the couch. After a few seconds, Alex's single father, Bob, fell asleep again, drooling at the corner of his mouth.
The next few days of school were the same, even though Alex's dreams had taken a dramatic turn. Alex had been trying to see what was in the box for a few days already, but until the fifth day, he had found nothing. However, on the fifth day, he finally succeeded in opening the creaky wooden box with the ghostly pale hand reaching out from it. In the dream, Alex shivered. This time, the hand was reaching out even further than usual, and with more confidence. The cover of the compartment started to creak upwards. Alex's face turned as pale as the hand which was coming out of the traditional ancient box. To Alex's great surprise, the box kept on opening until' a head, a ghostly haunted head slowly began to emerge from the antique box. The hair looked as if it had been bleached or powdered with white dust, and gradually, the face emerged. The face was a young one, about the same age as Alex, but his neck was a horrifying sight. There were slashes and cuts and bruises all over, and Alex couldn't help but stare. He tried to look away, but somehow his neck resisted. Alex contained his horror and tried to stay calm. As the boy slowly emerged out of his prison, he saw Alex. He gave Alex a small glimmer of a smile. Alex caught it and tried to smile back, but his mouth muscles weren't working properly either. All he managed to do was a slight mumble from his firmly sealed lips.
'It's OK,' the boy croaked. It was obvious that he had not spoken properly in a long time. He cleared his throat and continued. 'I always expected people to be surprised at seeing a ghost, and I guess I was right. My name is Luke.' The boy smiled once more, and this time Alex smiled back warily. He had noticed that both he and Luke had winced when Luke had said 'ghost'. The two boys talked about normal daily stuff for a while, quite comfortably, beginning to warm to each other. When Alex accidentally mentioned Luke's neck, there was a slight pause in the conversation. Luke stumbled a bit, and then began to explain the hardships of life leading to his abuse. Alex listened intently, drinking in all of the information Luke exposed about his depressing life. He had been strangled by some guys who had had an uncontrollable emotional outburst on the street, and Luke could do nothing to stop it. Help never arrived. After the gangsters from the street had finally realised what they'd done, they had no choice but to dump him in a ditch on the side of the road. The last thing he saw in his life was dirt and garbage. Alex understood clearly what Luke's life was like. Alex had a lot in common with Luke. Once Luke had finished telling Alex his sad, sad story, Alex decided to spill out all of the emotions he had been hiding for years. It was like pulling the cork out of an old wine bottle, all of the foam overflowing and spilling down the side.
The next few days flew by for Alex. He always looked forward to going home, even though school was just the same. He still got bullied everyday and taunted by the teachers, but for him it was nothing. He accepted the bruises and cuts, not caring for the bully's behaviour. Every day, he looked forward to going home. ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ was where he felt safe, where he could talk freely with his friend, Luke. Together they shared memories, some happy, some sad. Alex felt a lot better after he had told someone about what he was going through, someone who actually cared, and someone who could empathize with Alex's situation.
The days flew by, each day getting better than the previous one. Soon, the bullies had grown bored of beating up Alex, and the teachers had begun to admire Alex's intelligence openly, to use it as an example for the other kids. Life for Alex was starting to get a lot better every day - he was gaining confidence, and even some friends. Alex grew positive, and began to see the brightness in life, all thanks to Luke's encouragement.
All was well, until one day, after Alex came home from dinner with Jack and Isabel, his new friends; he went to check on Luke. Luke looked sick and even paler than usual - he was fading away. As soon as Alex saw Luke, he began to panic, but Luke stayed calm and smiled.
'I knew this time would come sooner or later, and now it has finally come.' Luke said in a restful tone.
'B-b-b-but'' Alex stammered, but Luke cut him short.
'As long as you're happy, I'll be satisfied. You're the best person I have ever met, Alex, and I will never forget you. Don't forget me.' Luke declared calmly, growing paler by the second. Alex began to cry, a thing he had been able to control for a long time, until this. Alex had never prepared himself for the death, if you could call it that, of his first ever, and bestest friend he had ever had, the friend who always stayed by his side, and who helped him find the meaning in life, even though he himself had not led a joyful life. Alex cried, letting all of his emotions flow out like a big torrent of water, breaking down a dam which had held up and stayed strong for years. Time passed, racing away. Luke began to completely dematerialize, but he had enough time to say just two more phrases ' 'Thank you. Enjoy life.' Alex whispered a thank you to Luke amid his tears, smiling at the happy memories they had experienced together. Luke slowly faded away, ascending to the gates of heaven. Once Luke had disappeared, Alex stopped crying, his tear streaked face still showing signs of sorrow. Alex smiled again. He vowed to keep Luke's last wish - enjoy life.
As Alex grew older, he grew more mature. He made good friends, enjoying every day of life and learning something knew everyday. Life grew better for him, but still he could not forget how Luke had so dramatically manipulated his depressed life into a cheerful life, filled with happiness, pleasure, and joy.