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Ghosting

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Stan has always been an outsider, a loser one might even say. Not only was he the only jewish kid in the small town of Derry but he also never fit in with the childish smiles around him. He was just ghosting, silent and monochrome in a loud and colourful word.

That all changed the day he met Bill. The small boy whose stutter and captivating laugh wormed it's way into his closed off heart. What once was black and white turned into a warm coloured haven. He was finally not alone. He found a way to fit in against all odds of which he had calculated previously. After a while their small corner of two turned into a set of three.

Eddie entered his life, his firecracker of a personality juxtaposing his frail looks. The boy of whom was supposedly ill, a fanny pack filled with medication with him at all times. Not only did his newly coloured world become brighter but it became louder too, no longer a insufferable silence hanging over his every action. Not long afterwards did that set of three become a group of four.

Then there was Richie. The loudmouthed, life of the group yet silently looking after them all in his own way. He soon became the closest person Stan had. It wasn't as if there was something wrong with the other two but there was just something different about him. Richie was who Stan had desperately wished to be. Free.

Yet that would never happen. He was a small, cowardly bird unable to fly due to the shackles on his wings, keeping him grounded against his will. But as long as he was stuck there with them he could cope. After a rainy October day their group of four reverted back to a set of three.

Months later Bill returned to the tight-knit group as if nothing happened. He had never wanted to press on the events of that fateful day so he kept his mouth shut like he has always been taught to do. Like he has spent all his life doing. They were finally together again, the set of three once again become a group of four.

Throughout those few months Richie and Eddie had come closer than ever. The one person he felt a taste of flight with had his heart set on the small boy and Stan couldn't blame him for it. During such a short amount of time the ties that held them all near to him had slowly frayed to a thin wire.

After a series of unfortunate occurrences their newly reunited group of four became a club of seven. The losers club as they had so eloquently dubbed it. An accurate way to describe the bunch of outsiders who ended up together against all prejudice towards their kind. There was the warm hearted Ben, the fire haired Bev and the strong willed Mike.

They finally felt complete, at least for a short passage of time until the events of the summer of 89' came to a close. After those trauma filled experience faded from his memories like an old piece of film, the club of seven slowly became the dream of one flightless bird.

Stan has always been an outsider, a loser one might even say. Not only was he the only jewish kid in the small town of Derry but he also never fit in with the childish smiles around him. He was just ghosting, silent and monochrome in a loud and colourful word.

Only this time as his childhood faded and blood dripped down his fingers he truly started ghosting.