Chapter 6: Whispering Connections; Unseen Bonds

                                    

                                          
The sun was setting and trees were dancing in the breeze. The sky was painted a soft orange-ish pink with vibrant yellow slowly disappearing. The clouds were a fluffy purple that turned black once the sunset diminished. All was quiet and all was still. Not a single word to be heard for miles as many were fast asleep.
The lights flickered ever so slightly. Lava wasn't even falling as the silent night filled the air. Something was chilling about the room, a cell Dream once was held. The walls were a black, obsidian colour with a cold, floor. There were no windows, no people, nothing at all.
The dim light kept flickering and flickering until it finally stopped. A breeze came through into the room and suddenly a person appeared. Their skin was as pale as ash against clouds, his eyes were as black as coal that held behind them no soul, and his presence felt as cold as the breeze in the winter snow.
"Where the hell am I?" The ghostly presence thought as he opened his mouth. "What, what's happening!? Why can't I speak?" he pondered, trying to get the words out of his mouth. He went to touch their face but instead of feeling their cold, lifeless skin, he felt nothing but air. Cold, cold air.
"I want to speak! Let me speak! Why can't I!?" He stressfully thought. It felt like there was a banking sensation in his chest, a ringing in his ears as he tried so hard to speak but mere gasps only came out. It was useless to try and continue, perhaps when he's more calmed down he would be able to speak. He took a step forward and he realized he heard no footsteps. He heard nothing as he walked. He tried to make a possible noise but he was silenced. He made no noise other than the loud distressing thoughts that ran through their mind. 
The strange presence tried to grab his arms but felt nothing. He let out a little shake. A shake of fear and concern. He looked up at the light. How long has it been on? The ghost decided to touch the light, he wanted to feel something, anything, whether it be painful or not, as this situation he was experiencing was nothing but odd. Confusing. He felt nothing, not even the air around him. He wanted to feel something other than the coldness of his presence. Once the ghost touched the light he realized he felt nothing. Their skin stayed pitch cold, intact and unburned.
"My hand stays unburned? The heat I do not feel, I feel nothing at all. Why? Why is that?" He wondered. He questioned, how could that be? For not being burned, not to feel pain, no nothing at all. Is he even human anymore? Is he breathing, alive? For if he is why does he not feel? Mustn't only ghosts feel such oddness in this world? Don't only the dead feel such cold? How would the living experience no feelings at all?
The ghost stood there. Thoughts no longer ran through his mind, his mind was still. He was a ghost, wasn't he? Would that not explain why he heard no sound from himself, why he heard no steps and felt no pain? Was he no longer human? Was he a ghost? That would mean he died. How did he die?
Wait, who was he? "Who am I? How did I die?" the ghost wondered. He didn't know who he was. Where was he even? This place looked so abandoned. Nothing was here, it was like a box. An empty room. He examined how he looks; a blue knitted sweater covering a white t-shirt with red rimming and sleeves, brown cargo pants that were ripped and stained - almost burned, and then a pair of dull purple shoes that looked so worn out it seems like a miracle his feet weren't showing.
"I am... I am Tommy, Tommyinnit, that's my name," the ghost remembered.
Tommy looked around the barren room, trying to figure out where he was. It was clearly a room, so perhaps he was in a house. He took a few more steps towards the front of the cell room. There was a big opening, so it wasn't fully a room. He looked over the edge, there was nothing but more obsidian down there. On the ceiling after the room there were holes.