The Ghost and the Ageless

Charlotte Peyton Thomson.

1952- 1969

Daughter.

Never forget.

(they didn't even remembered her when she was alive)

Anthony Potter.

1894 - 1912

Son.

Never forget.

(there was no one to remember)

People called Charlotte many things behind her back.

"Dirty."

"Not even her parents love her!"

"Looks like she's dead."

They didn't even cared to insult Anthony (or Walter or Harry or Antonio or Bathaniel or Paul or Freddy, America or Evan) behind his back. They just told him right in his face.

"Don't touch me, filthy Mexican. "

"Your parents kicked you out, what? I can understand why."

Drown and let the important people live! "

Charlotte Thomson was many things. So was Anthony Potter.

They were more than their birthdays or their death certificate. They were more than their graves and the lack of tears there. They were more than the people who looked at them with disgust.

Charlotte loved Elvis Presley.

She was fascinated with the upcoming film industry, dreamt of going to a movie theatre with her lover one day.

Her favorite colors were light blue and green.

Anthony loved everyone who decided to make music in the streets.

He loved everything about music. Making it, dancing, singing. When he wouldn't had to work, he would've loved to become a musician.

His favorite colour was red.

Charlotte wanted to learn french and spanish.

She didn't knew the Indian Ocean existed until she was 13.

Her favorite animal was a turtle, even if she never saw one in real life.

Anthony wanted to fly someday. He didn't had any idea how, but he used to dream about flying alot when he was younger.

He didn't knew that russian an japanese were seperated languages until he was 16.

His favorite animal were pigs, even if he couldn't eat them.

Charlotte and her best friend Josie used to worship wood gods and goddesses they made up when they were 12.

She had two birthmarks in her face, one above and the beneath he right eye.

Her dream was marrying, getting a few children, working as a teacher and living at the coast.

Anthony was never in a wood.

His parents thought at first that he was born dead.

His was marrying, getting a few children, working as anything but in a fabric and living somewhere, that isn't London.

But people didn't cared. Didn't cared that they also had dreams. That they loved something and that they laughed and cried and screamed.

They had their little boxes and because their little narrow minded beliefs, they refused to see through someone.

Yes, she was a bit dirty, because she was a bit wild. She ran through woods and fields, screaming and didn't caring about her dress, because it was the only thing that made her happy.

Yes, her parents didn't really cared for her. And now? What is she supposed to do now? Screaming? Crying? Hating herself? She already tried that.

No, he isn't Mexican, completely wrong continent. He's from London, but he knew they didn't meant that anyway.

No, his parents didn't kicked him out. Would be pretty hard, considering the fact that they were longer dead than some people alive.

No- yes-

Charlotte didn't just locked dead. She was.

Yes- no-

Anthony did drowned. But he survived.

(On the one hand, he was angry. Why couldn't he just drown like everyone else in his family? Why did HE of all people survive?

One the other hand, he felt great. At least the weird asshole couldn't get what he wanted.)

Charlotte came back as a ghost.

Anthony survived the ship wreck his whole family died in and stopped aging.

They both decided that whatever happend, they weren't the same. They weren't Charlotte and Anthony anymore. They died a long time ago.

Charlotte never liked her first name. It was the name of her parents, the, were the only ones who used it. The only person who cared about Charlotte Thompson called her Peyton.

The newly named girl, Peyton, wandered around the world. Just Peyton, not a Thomson anymore (not part of any family anymore).

Until he met the second person who cared for Peyton. His name was Ajal Dawoud and his family greeted her like some long lost sister.

And that was the moment she decided.

So around 50 years after Charlotte Thomson died, Peyton Dawoud was choosen as the new way to start (again).

Anthony wasn't really his name. Well, it was, but no one called him that. It was just something his parents wrote on paper to better fit in the early 20th century in London. Everyone in his family just called him Abad, the name his mum dreamt of.

But when they all died he just did the same as his parents. Everywhere where they asked about his name he just wrote Anthony. Anthony something. A desperate attempt of denial.

(and it protected him before lynch's, so it wasn't THAT of a bad idea).

Nearly hundered years after the accident, he decided to try something new (or something old?).

Abad Potter. The name his parents would've picked if he was born a hundered years later. A new way to start (again).

Peyton Dawoud, formally known as Charlotte Peyton Thomson.

The girl who died.

The one who chose her name.

She, who no one remembered, even when alive.

Abad Potter, formally known as Walter Potter, Anthony Tennant, Harald "Harry" Potter, Antonio Vivaldi, Bathaniel Schrodinger, Paul Allan, Anthony "Tony" Strong, Frederic "Freddy" Mars, America Russia, Evan Preston, Anton Berlin, Anthony Crowley, Anthony Bennet, Anthony Anderson, Anthony Winston, Anthony Roseevelt, Anthony Welkig, Anthony Portland, Anthony Porting, Anthony Porter and Anthony "Abad" Potter

The boy who didn't died.

The one with many names.

He, who has no one left to remember him.

They, who were just seventeen (and will be until eternity).

They, who just want to forget (but don't want to be forgotten, even if they mostly already are).

They, who are preceived dead (even if one of them isn't).

The Ghost and the Ageless.