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Isn't it strange? To dream about a dead person and inside your dream they are still acting normally like nothing ever happened.
Against the evening sky, all the photographer could see in his old house was the crumbling walls that were nothing more than a ghostly silhouette of some previous existence. This place is just an exact replica of what it looks like in the real world. A lot of things have change: the walls are broken, the halls are empty, and it's desolated and lonely. The wind whistled through the trees, bringing with it the laughter of children who once lived there and the caring call of their mother letting them know that dinner was ready.
"Claude and I are always playing here." Vividly, he could picture his childhood with his twin brother. The walls didn't seem so grey when he was a boy, neither did they seem so small. In his mind, he can remember this place as though it was a castle where he and his twin brother were princes. The two of them would pretend to fight some ferocious monsters, and young Claude would always go in front to protect Joseph, fearing his younger brother might get hurt. Their lovely parents would glide through the once pristine halls as the king and queen of this kingdom.
All of them were having fun together, basking under the bright and open sky outside their humble abode that they always treat as a kingdom. Joseph refused to look away from this place, even when his lips trembled and his shoulders heaved with emotion, he was unwilling to back down. He gently closed his eyes and suddenly a light came out of his vision. There was a familiar voice calling out to him.
"Joseph? Joseph! Are you okay?" That boy asked him while holding his cold hands. He opened his eyes and squinted. Seeing the boy's figure made him tremble.
Joseph's hands were shaking and his voice was quivering like a feeble grass in the wind. "C-Claude..." He stammered, eyes narrowed in disbelief and longing. "I had a dream-the most terrible dream. I was invited in a huge manor and I couldn't leave anymore. You weren't in my dreams anymore because you've died! "Claude, please don't leave me. I'm scared and it's lonely without you." A lone tear traced down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. He wept the tears that streamed from his deep blue eyes, and loud, heaving sobs tore his throat. Still, he did not look away from his brother-he couldn't even move a single muscle away from him.
Seeing his twin brother again made him feel so glad. After a few years of nightmares, he could finally converse with him again. Claude chuckled softly and drew him back into his arms. "Silly Joseph!" He beamed. "You know I won't leave you, right? I can't leave you, I never can't leave you -because you are a short-tempered person, and a lot of people might have fun bullying you." Joseph pouted as he stared at his brother; it was really cute of his twin, and right now, the only thing that Claude wants to do is to hug him.
"Now, now, stop doing that face!" Claude grinned a cheeky grin. "Because mom will prepare pancakes for us later!" He buried his face into the crook of Joseph's neck and embraced him tightly, his soft voice murmuring that everything would be okay as long as they have each other. Obviously, Joseph didn't want to let go; he knows exactly what's it like to have no one. "Uh, Joseph? You can let go now.... We're playing, aren't we?" However, Joseph ignored him instead.
"Are you sick, Joseph?" Claude asked. There were no symptoms of any sicknesses, but Joseph was acting strange. He slowly smiled and merely returned the embrace with much sincerity and force. "I'm not sick." "I just want to show my affection."
To Claude, seeing his own twins affectionate side was the best thing in the world- comparable to receiving a noble award. Joseph rarely acts like this towards him. Certainly, they play around, but this sweet and clingy side is a different story.
"Stand up! Let's continue-" His words were halted by a series of hacking and wheezing, and it nearly felt as if his lungs were being torn apart. Claude masked it with a smile, making it seem as if he's okay, but Joseph had already known of his illness-it was the death of him, after all.
"Claude, I want to stay with you." Joseph said, voice nearly pleading when he held his brother's arms tighter.
"I also want to be with you ...." The sky was no longer bright and welcoming, and everything turned monochromatic and melancholic, everything except for Joseph. For some old reason, he was the only one left with color. His eyes frantically looked around, desperation seeping in and caging him in a small glass.
"Please don't leave me." He begged and begged, but no one heard his plea.
The ocean within his eyes started to leak, little water droplets streamed down his pale cheeks. He realized that all of it was just a part of his hallucinations, a sick play that the camera world had brought upon him. It was just a memory-a sick, twisted memory that brings out the masochist in him.
Memories are like preserved flowers in thick saffron pages, a gentle reminder of something that had passed.