He was an ancient creature, living in a ghost world parallel to our own.
He envied the ghosts that stayed behind, tied to the earth by mourners, so loved that they were trapped. He was alone in his envy. He was surrounded by shadows, longing to return to the world of the living.
He watched them in his bowl of liquid silver, tempted every moment, longing for a world he could touch.
He dived in…
But he didn’t belong here. His face froze in the bowl, halfway between two worlds, waiting to be touched again, waiting to enter their forbidden world.
Prompt from the Friday Fictioneers.