Cassiopeia's ghost

**Note by MN:  perhaps Fonchito was not very happy with the story he was writing, or perhaps some pages got lost in time. In any case: there seems to be no link between the first chapters and this one... **

Ansgar woke up, bathing in sweat. Another nightmare? Everything looked dark around him. Was it time to get up? He look at the clock, 3 at night, so he had not been in bed for an hour yet. So was he sick? He didn't feel sick, but where did this sweat come from? Ansgar got out of bed walked across his little room and filled a glass of water. He swallowed it all at once. He did put down the glass and walke to the bathroom, put on the light and washed his face. While he held is long grown hair backwards he inspected his face. Didn't I used to be a pretty boy? At what point did my face grow older? Would my eyes ever return to the shining state they were once in, or will they remain this mat? Maybe I should stop shaving, maybe a beard would cover my aging skin. Or would it make me worse? He closed the tap, the water ran down the drain. He took a small towel to dry his face. He closed the light in the bathroom, grabbed a large towel to put on his bed, closed the door of the bathroom. He took place at the side of the bed, put the towel in place, drank another glass of water, threw his sweaty clothes out of bed and tried to get back to sleep.

Would Cassiopeia even recognize him if they would ever meet again? Why did she appear again in his mind? Why did she appear in the mirror everytime, smiling and throwing him kisses? Why did she haunt him this way? How did he regret creating Cassiopeia's ghost. Life would've been so much easier if he had just left her in the human state. A state where all contain errors, a state where the perfect beauty does not exist. Ansgar stared at the ceiling. Cassiopeia danced and laughed above him, as such he could not sleep.
Oh, how he loved the way she danced, the way she seduced him. And she knew it, Cassiopeia's ghost new so much about him. And how tiring this was to him that all day and all night Cassiopeia was there. Never could he touch her, never talk to her, but always she would be around. In happy moments, in sad moments. When he was alone, when he was with friends. When he worked, when he relaxed. When he read or listened to music. When a woman tried to seduce him, when he seduced a womea. Always was Cassiopeai there making sure he would not forget about her. Making sure he realised no one would ever live up to her.

And how he wished he could create a second ghost out of any person out there. Another ghost to fight Cassiopeia, and how beautiful would it be if both ghosts killed eachother? Then he could live alone again, freed from the burden of a hunting ghost.