Loksfjoer — Roleplayer Guild

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Welcome to the Voting and Feedback round for RPGC#38!

I asked for your interpretation of invisibly and that resulted in these stories. The writers did a great job, now it's up to the readers to cast their votes. 

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The Entries

Jackson sat at an outside table of Tobius Internet Cafe.  He passed his card over the bill terminal and paused a moment to see the green checkmark appear before he put his card away.  "Well, Marilyn, I have had a wonderful time, as always.  Do you want to go out again next Saturday?  Museum?"

"I would like that," Marilyn said.  "But, I think..."  There was hesitation in her voice, and Jackson could hear it.  He leaned in a little.  She continued, "I think I might be willing to take this to the next step."  She giggled a little and let out a breathe of air.

Jackson was flattered.  It had been only three dates, which had all gone perfectly.  They had so much in common, books, music, taste in food.  "I am honored.  I look forward to it."

"I mean here," she said in a low tone.  "I could take the next step here."

Jackson looked around.  There were a few other men at the cafe but like any other place, it was hard to tell if they were alone or with another.  He tried to see if any had been listening or were trying to look as well.  One made brief eye contact with Jackson and looked away.  Jackson looked at the space across the table from him.  Like all other woman in public, she was invisible.  They revealed themselves only by choice.  "Are you sure?" he whispered.  

There was silence for a moment.  "You're right.  Perhaps it's not safe."  But then a pair of eyes appeared, blinked, and then disappeared again.  

Jackson stared into the space before him.  In the distance beyond the outdoor railing, cars passed, some with drivers, some without.  Some with fake drivers, which were obvious to the discerning eye.  He was trying not to see the activity in the street beyond, however, he was trying to keep and remember those eyes.

"You're quiet," she said in a subdued way.

"I'm sorry.  I was just trying to hold on to what your eyes looked like.  Beautiful," he said honestly in awe.  Jackson had seen his mother and his two sisters growing up.  His mother appeared all the time inside the home.  His sisters, as they got older, appeared less and less frequently.  He knew what they looked like, however, and they didn't have eyes like Marilyn's.

"Oh," she laughed.  "Well, in that case, you'll look forward to seeing me again.  I have a whole face to admire as well."

"I'm sure that I will," he smiled and pushed his seat back, standing and straightening his coat.

"Next Saturday, then," Marilyn said.  The sound of her retreating footsteps indicated that she was already on the go.

"Next Saturday," Jackson said.

---

Throughout the week, Jackson worked like he always had.  He arrived at the office building, found his desk, and proceeded to work through data and reports.  The only woman in the office who chose to be visible was Susan, the office grandmother.  Susan was in her nineties and actually had great great grandchildren.  She could be seen talking to the men and to the women, although when talking to other women it always appeared as though she were talking with no one.

Men and women in the office hardly ever talked with one another unless it was necessary, at least not in the physical.  Talking though the computer was another story.  Rapidly staccato keyboards clickity clacked all across the office space.  It was the norm.  Messages from cute avatars and plain ones scrolled up the side of one computer monitor all work day as the conventional method of 'water cooler' socialization.

One topic scrolling quickly, the main topic, this week, was that of a news story: Film Actress Kim Porfaux was rumored to be dating someone.  Office coworkers speculated about the actor that could be her real life love interest.  Famous names leapt up the chat history one after another.  Jackson, as usual, only glanced at the chatter, until someone mentioned that her real name was Marilyn Kim Porfaux.

He had been in the middle of creating a prompt for the AI to compile data from two reports when he saw the name.  "Marilyn," he chuckled to himself.  Then looked up the actress on the internet.  He had not seen any of the films before, but none were really the genre that he watched.  In the movies she always only wore "the bag".  "The bag" was a piece of fashion clothing designed to show where a woman was without revealing much about her.  Miss Porfaux was as mysterious as any other woman, but it stuck in Jackson's mind.

"What are you looking at, Jackson?" the ancient and jubilant voice of Susan startled him from behind.

"Susan!  Oh, ah, the office chatter is about the actress.  I'd never heard of her."

"Not a fan of historical romance?  Me neither.  I like history, but not romance.  Had enough of that in my life.  Documentaries are my thing.  A little adventure show from time to time."

"Yeah, Sci-fi and Cop shows for me.  I was just curious," he looked at the screen again.

Susan patted him on his head, "Whoever is dating her is a lucky guy."  She then moved on down the rows of cubicles to chat with someone else.

"Lucky guy," Jackson said looking at the image of Marilyn Kim Porfaux in the bag, cinched at the waist, hat and sunglasses, waving to the camera.

---

He knew it was an insane idea.  Friday night and even into Saturday morning, he looked up as much information on Marilyn Kim Porfaux that he could.  He listened to interviews, but all interviews involving women had synthetic voice overlays.  It was impossible to tell.  He watched the historic romance, "Unseen Hearts along the Nile", and found that he liked the movie well enough.  He even thought that the actress sounded like his Marilyn, which caused him to sweat a little.  Who was he to be dating someone famous?

Saturday morning just before he was getting ready to leave his apartment, it occurred to him to try, "Kim Porfeux most recent sighting" in the search engine.  The image that returned was unmistakable, the Tobius Internet Cafe.  Jackson didn't know what to think.  He was an IT guy, not some Hollywood hotshot.  His watched beep twice, and he glanced at it.  He needed to leave to make their date at the museum, but how could he focus now that he knew who she was.

On the drive to the museum he tried to remember their previous dates.  Were there any clues?  He remembered what when he said when he explained his job.  "I look at reports and write more reports," he had joked. 

Her response had been, "That sounds better than what I do.  People tell me what to do all day.  They don't really see me.  I'd really just like to quit and be a landscape painter."  'They don't really see me' was a phrase many woman used because of the whole invisibility thing, but maybe she'd said it because everyone sees her in way, to be ironic.

He was in the museum parking lot before he knew it.  He got out of his car and stood there holding his phone in a tight grip.  Wouldn't most guys be thrilled to know they were dating a movie star?  Jackson just felt overwhelmed.  Then he saw the people far across the parking lot at the entrance: Paparazzi.  He laughed a nervous laugh.

A fancy car pulled up.  A woman's voice shouted, "It's Marilyn!"  Camera's took pictures of the car and the driver as it arrived.  The doors of the car opened and someone threw a bag of bright pink colored Gulal powder right at the open door.  The partial outline of a woman's head and shoulder beside the driver could be seen.  Camera's flashed and filmed the event in high definition.  The pink peppered partial ghost looked around and appeared to be looking right at Jackson for a moment.

The driver yelled, "Back in the car!" and the pink dusted silhouette jumped back into the car and the doors all closed.  The vehicle made a quick exit, and some paparazzi were quick to follow.  Jackson walked up to the area where the car had been and watched as the car sped away with some pursuers close behind.

It all happened to quickly.  Other bystanders not involved with the whole event looked around at each other.  People exchanged shrugs and looks of concern and wonder.  Jackson backed up a few steps and then finally retreated to his car.  His blood was pumping, his mind was spinning, and he looked down at his phone.  "Are you at the museum?" he texted.

A quick moment later a reply appeared, "Yes!  That was crazy, right?"

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief.  He laughed out loud.  It couldn't have been her.  He'd been psyching himself out for nothing.  Maybe she was already waiting inside.  He texted, "I'm at my car.  Where are you?"

"I'm at your car, too," the text returned.

Jackson looked around as if he might see an invisible person.  He laughed internally at himself and with a breath said, "You're here.  Were you going to surprise me?  Hard to do after seeing that."

"Yeah, my sister likes to plan elaborate things," Marilyn's voice came from the other side of Jackson's car.

"Your sister?" he said a little confused.

"Jackson," Marilyn said some shakiness in her voice, "I have a confession to make.  It's about my job.  Can I tell you in the car though?"  The doors opened and Jackson sat in the car and the doors closed.

"Marilyn Kim Porfaux," Jackson said staring forward.  In front of the museum some of the paparazzi still milled about hoping to see her come back through.  Someone from the museum was yelling at the man who through the pink dust.  A few visitors were looking confused as they tried to enter attempting to ignore the strange throng.  Camera's occasionally took pictures of vacant air hoping that something would come of it.

"Yes...  You knew?" 

Jackson could hear her timidness.  His mind softened towards her.  For three weeks he'd simply gotten to know Marilyn, just a woman named Marilyn.  Somehow he still couldn't reconcile the information he'd discovered online about the actress to what he'd learned on a few dates about the invisible woman beside him.  "I think I just found out by accident this week."

"The rumors," she sighed.  "I shouldn't have been so bold at the cafe.  I should have been more observant."

"But," Jackson was riding the roller coaster of thought and emotions, "Our similar interests, and... and Historical Romance?"  His incredulousness against the genre of her movies came off as an accusation.

"Have you seen my movies?" a slight embarrassment in her voice.

"Just one.  Last night.  I was trying to discern if it really was you?  Unseen Hearts along the Nile."

"That one?" she groaned slightly, "Why not Hidden Promises and Hidden Guns?"

"Unseen Hearts along the Nile high a higher Rotten Tomatoes score," Jackson said as plainly as he could, and Marilyn laughed.  Jackson could not help but chuckle along.  "You said, 'People tell me what to do all day'.  I'm guessing now directors."

"And an agent. also the studio. And maybe a few others.  They won't let me do a Syfy movie original, or a Sitcom Comedy.  It's off brand." She sighed, while the people in front of the museum continued to wait.

Jackson could hear the woman he'd been getting to know in her answers and her voice.  He'd let some of the office gossip affect him, and he shouldn't have.  She was still Marilyn from the dates. "There is another museum about an hour down the interstate.  You want to go there instead?"  He looked at the empty seat next to him, imagining those eyes, hoping she'd say yes.

Marilyn's eyes and lips appeared transparent then translucent in the air before him.  She smiled, "That sounds like fun."  Then suddenly that vision of her disappeared, and she was invisible again with a giggle, her giggle.

Jackson was captivated as a smile grew on his face.  Those lips, those eyes, that smile.  "Alright," he said turning on the car.  It was a date.  He laughed as he pulled out of the paparazzi plagued museum parking lot, "I see you."

Invisible

Part i.

     It was almost time to go. Her mother said so. She had been saying so for the past hour. At least, that’s what the clock told her. 

     Just a second. Be patient, dear. Her mother said, again. The older woman kept repeating herself over and over again, until her daughter finally gave up.

     She sat herself on the living room couch and stared at the blank screen in front of her. She wasn’t allowed to turn it on, because they were about to leave. 

     She looked down at her hands. She fiddled with them for a while and thought of playing her gaming device, but she wasn’t allowed to, because they were about to leave.

     Her feet fluttered for entertainment and eventually stopped. She didn’t want to accidentally kick the couch with the back of her heels. Her mother would get upset.

     She thought about retreating to her bedroom, but she might get too carried away and not be ready to leave, which was very soon.

     Her mother was still putting on make-up and fixing her hair.  For her mother, appearances were everything. In fact, she always felt shy and embarrassed by how other people would stare at her mother. It made her want to run and hide.

     She especially dreaded when someone told her how special she was to have such a beautiful mother. Sometimes, the comments would even get more uncomfortable. She would be told that she would be just as beautiful as her mother when she grew up.

     But, it always took her mother forever to get ready, and she made a promise to herself, to never be like her. When it was time to leave, she would simply just leave. There would be nothing to it.

     She fiddled with her fingers again and then slouched her shoulders. Her back leaned into the cushion, and quietly, she stared at the ceiling.

     At first, she concentrated on the textures of the ceiling, and slowly, she forgot she was even looking at the ceiling. Her mind drifted far away from the couch, her house, and her mother.

     She thought of that old movie her mother once let her watch on a rare Friday night. She was able to eat in front of the television and have pizza — at the same time! 

     The movie had some old man reading a young boy a book. The movie was mostly about the book, and it was packed full of adventures, just like her uncle.

     A small daze ran through her mind. She imagined some tragic accident happening to her mother. Maybe a car accident or something. The details were lacking, but she imagined herself being quiet and sad at the funeral when suddenly, a gentle hand was placed upon her shoulder. 

     The hand belonged to her uncle. She was going to live with him from now on, at least, until her father finally finished his work in New York. It seemed like a scary proposition, but she always liked her uncle.

     When he took her to his place, her aunt was more concerned about her own children. They had their own lives and schedules. Things were much different now, and she missed her mother.

     Her uncle’s house was louder than her mother’s house. It was more rambunctious, and her aunt was always in work-out clothes. She also kept her hair short, and sometimes, she imagined her aunt was actually a man.

     However, every night, her uncle would put her to sleep and open the diary he kept while he was in the United States Navy. He would read to her until she fell asleep.

     The first night it happened, she had a dream she was in one of the stories. Her uncle and his crew were on a top secret mission. They were in a submarine and spying on another nation’s waters. However, a fire broke out. 

     It was terrifying. They were running out of oxygen and could not surface in fear of being caught for trespassing in foreign waters. Her uncle kept telling her to remain calm. He also told her how to help out. 

     The fire was put out in a surprisingly timely manner, and no one was injured. They continued their mission undetected, and she felt like a heroine. 

     By morning, her uncle greeted her. He thanked her for all the help that night and told her what a great listener she was. It was as if everything that had happened in her dream was real, but she knew better.

     At some point, her uncle told her stories about her mother. She was his sister after all. They were funny stories, and they were sad stories. In all, they were stories she would treasure forever, just like the ones from her uncle’s diary that helped her survive each night.

     Sweetheart? Honey? Where are you? Her mother called out. The scent of the perfume trailed behind her. Are you in your room?

     She opened her eyes and cautiously sat upwards. I am here, Mommy.

     Her body stood from the couch and caught her mother’s attention. A smile quickened on her mother’s face. 

     You were so quiet I didn’t even see you there. Thank you for being patient. Do you have everything you need?

     She nodded quickly.

     Good. Go put on your shoes, it’s time to go.

Part ii.

     Damnit! Why didn’t you tell me about this? Her husband was holding a medical bill in his hand and his cellphone in another. 

     She had gotten the mail earlier that day but didn’t bother to open any of the letters addressed to him. It had been that way since they had gotten married. She never wanted to pry.

     There was nothing she could say in response, so she said nothing.

     Three thousand dollars! Damnit! I can’t keep living like this! He was cussing at the top of his lungs. 

     Her eyes looked downward as she drew in a small quiet breath. It was her fault.

     Shit! Dammnit! I hate my life! Her husband banged his fussed against the wall as his voice continued to rattle through her memories.

     She had taken her son to the hospital, but they had no rooms available. Both she and her son had spent the night in the emergency room, waiting for a room to be available. 

     They told her, since she had signed the paperwork, that if she and her son left the hospital, they would call Child Protective Services on her. Her son needed help, and there was nothing left to do but wait.

     Finally, sometime the next morning, the staff informed her there were still no rooms available. However, they would transport her son to another hospital via an ambulance.

     Yes, she could go with them. No, she could not drive him there herself. It was against the law.

     He stayed in the hospital for a week, and when they released him, he was in even worse shape. 

     The bill came several months later. Insurance paid for the hospital stay but not the ambulance. They were another three thousand in debt, and her husband was livid.

     Her husband called the insurance company, and she quickly withdrew into the bedroom. She lied on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

     Her husband was cussing and yelling again. Eventually, he would calm down. It was difficult to concentrate on anything when he was like this. The best she could do was pretend she was invisible until his anger subsided.

     She closed her eyes and took in a breath. She hoped he wouldn’t come into the bedroom and yell at her. She could never escape when he did that. Occasionally, she could make a run for the closet. But, that usually made him angrier.

     Instead, she would listen to him and say nothing.

     Why aren’t you saying anything? Her husband would demand. 

     Because there’s nothing to say, she would think to herself.

     You’re stonewalling me! He would retort in further anger. It’s like you’re not even there! Well, it hurts me when you do this!

     Her lips would press together, as she pretended she no longer existed. Saying anything would make things worse. She would regret whatever it was she said. It was easier to have him explode and get it over with then say the wrong thing and make it worse.

     Thankfully, he didn’t come into the bedroom this time. She was able to keep her mind elsewhere without feeling guilty or ashamed. 

     Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head. Right next to her was her uncle. He was sitting on a stool with a book in his hands. When she studied the book, she saw that it was the diary he always read to her.

     Did I ever tell you about the time we had to defend ourselves from pirates? Her uncle cracked open his diary.

     A small smile drifted into her face, and she closed her eyes. She could no longer hear husband yelling. Instead, she heard the roar of the ocean as her uncle grabbed her hand. 

     Do you still remember how to use a gun? 

     She nodded. How could she have forgotten? It was like riding a bicycle. It had been a while, but yes, she still remembered.

     The pirates were nothing like she had seen in the movies. This didn’t come as a surprise. She was old enough to understand this concept, but she was shocked to see how they really looked. 

     Their boats were smaller than in the movies, and the proteas themselves were like a cross between the average looking person and a homeless person. They were all very tan, burned even, and they smelled foul. The look in their eyes was also more terrifying. 

     She was cornered by one pirate, and she was having trouble aiming her gun at him. Her hands were trembling too much. Try as she might, she was having a hard time catching her breath. Surely, her uncle would show up any time now.

     Hello? Why aren’t you saying anything? I’m talking to you? Can you at least show some response?

     She opened her eyes. Her husband was standing right next to her. His cellphone was still in his hand.

     Goddammnit. I don’t know where you had gone. A walk? The bathroom? You could have at least replied. 

     She sat herself upwards. The weight from the pregnancy was making it harder to sit upwards, but she managed to hide the strain.

     I was on the phone with the insurance company for an hour. They said they’ll take care of the ambulance bill. He gave her a firm kiss on the lips. God, I have so much work to do. I don’t have time for this. I need more help. Just with basic things.

     She watched as he turned to leave the bedroom. He was already taking another call. 

     After he was out of ear shot, she turned to where her uncle had been seated. The spot was vacant.

Part iii.

     Some days were better than others. It was her memory. It came and went. It was difficult when her memory went, and it was difficult when it came back.

     It wasn’t just difficult for her. It was difficult for her family, too, especially since they refused to put her in a nursing home. For this, she was thankful. 

     Every morning, her daughter would give her breakfast and medicine. The medicine was supposed to help with her memory and the depression that came along with it failing her.

     Every afternoon and evening, her daughter would bring her a light meal. She could not eat much since she was predominantly bedridden. On the few occasions she tried to wander the bedroom, she had fallen and hurt herself. 

     It was safer to stay in one spot, lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Other than her daughter, no one came into the bedroom. She did not even have a screen to watch. 

     It’s better for your memory to not watch so many programs. Besides, your hearings gone bad from Daddy watching the screens too loudly.

     Her daughter was practically shouting at her to make her point. 

     She wished she had said something to her husband about listening to the screens too loudly, but she didn’t want to anger him. It didn’t matter anymore anyways. He was gone now.

     Although, sometimes she forgot he had passed away. She wasn’t sure if it was her memory coming and going or if the fact that she had somehow managed to outlive him was making it hard for her to remember. 

     There were days she pondered this, and sometimes, she wondered if she should have gotten married at all. At the end of her pondering, she always concluded that, at least, she had someone to take care of her.

     She also had six grandchildren. She counted them on her fingers as often as possible. She recalled their names over and over, again. Occasionally, one or two would come and visit her daughter. They would bring their children, as well. 

     None of them ever climbed the staircase to see her, though. She could never recall what any of the great-grandchildren looked like, and for some reason, she was not as intent as remembering them. 

     Sometimes, she thought that recounting them would make her feel more lonely. Other times, her memory made her forget they even existed. Either way, they never bothered to visit her. She existed in the bedroom by herself. It was just her, the ceiling, the picture books, and the window.

     She often felt invisible. The feeling seemed natural. She could not put her finger on why as she tried to focus her failing eyesight on the blank ceiling. It was as if, she had always felt this way, and the feeling, now in her old age, had only become one with her.

     Her eyes drifted down the ceiling and along the wall. A man was sitting in the chair next to her bed. He was holding something in his hand. A book, perhaps. She thought he had died a while ago, but maybe that was just another trick of her memory. 

     He began to speak. She remained quiet as she listened to him clearly. He began reading to her. The story was about a time he had been in a top secret environment during his time in the United States Navy. He was exposed to a toxic chemical, which inevitably riddled him with Lupus there afterwards. 

     It impressed her that he had lived such a long time with the illness. 

     It wasn’t easy. If you remember. It was as if he read her mind. Your aunt left me because she didn’t want to watch me die. Funny how I ended up outliving her.

     She thought how he was now going to watch her die.

     He adjusted his reading glasses and continued reading his story. When he finished, he closed the book and thanked her for always listening to his stories. 

     Not very many people enjoy hearing about other people. They are too busy thinking about themselves. 

     But, she didn’t hear him. Her eyes were closed, and the stillness of her body made the impression that she might as well not even have been there, like the spot on the bed was vacant.

Fin.

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Lorelei, who lived in a small town surrounded by rolling hills and dense forests. A shy and introverted child, Lorelei often felt invisible to the world around her. She longed to be seen and heard, to be noticed and appreciated for who she was.

In school, she was brilliant and quick witted - answering all the teacher’s questions before her schoolmates, which often garnered groans from the other children. 

“There she goes again, making us look stupid.” One of the girls in her class muttered behind her, causing an eruption of snickers.

“She’s the one that looks stupid. Her curly brown hair is so massive I can’t see the board. I don’t know why Ms. Winston put her in the front of the rest of us. We can’t see over her big head!”

The bell rang, and Lorelei was the first to flee from the classroom, tears welling in her eyes. 

Wandering through the woods on her way home from school, Lorelei stumbled upon a large oak tree with something laying at the base of it, catching sunbeams with something metallic on it. Drawing closer, she realized it was an old book with gold embellishing. She picked it up and sat at the base of the tree to study it. As she opened it, a puff of smoke wafted out, and a whispery voice wafted in the wind around her. 

“Make a wish, young one. Your heart’s desire will be granted.”

Lorelei shut her eyes tight and made her wish. She had always dreamed of being invisible, to be able to go anywhere and do anything without being seen or heard. With all her might, she made her wish.

“I wish to be invisible.” As soon as she spoke the words, the world around her began to fade away. The trees, the flowers, the birds, and even the sun disappeared, leaving only a blank, gray space around her. Lorelei looked down at her hands to see that they were no longer there. She was invisible.

Lorelei let out an excited gasp She was invisible! She could go anywhere, do anything, and no one would ever know. She frolicked through the forest, laughing and playing, feeling free and powerful.

After having a day of fun, Lorelei headed home. When she reached the driveway, she saw her mom setting on the porch steps with her head in her hands, elbows propped on her knees, sobbing. An officer came out of the house and lowered himself down onto the steps next to her mom.

“Ms. Danes, we’ll continue the search party but it’s been a week. The longer she stays missing, the less of a chance we have of finding her. Did she have any places she’d go when she’d play outside?”

Lorelei’s mom pointed towards the woods she had just come from. 

“She loved the woods. She would spend a whole day out in them if I’d let her.” Her mother replied tearily. 

Lorelei didn’t realize she had been gone that long. Maybe being invisible wasn’t all it cracked up to be. She began to realize that she missed the warmth of the sun on her skin, and the sounds of birds singing in the trees. She longed for the comfort of her mother’s embrace, and the laughter of her friends. 

She realized that being invisible wasn’t the answer to her prayers, but rather the absence of what she truly desired: to be seen and loved for who she was.

Lorelei rushed back to the large oak tree where she made the wish and tried to undo it. She hugged the book she had found tightly to her chest, mashed her eyes together as tightly as she could, and made her second wish.

“Please oh please, dear magic forest. Make me visible again.” As the words left her lips, the world around her slowly returned, brighter and more vibrant than before. The trees and flowers bloomed again, and the sun shone down on her with a warm, golden light.

She rushed back to her house. “Mama, I’m home! I’m home! Please don’t be sad anymore Mama.” She cried out as she dove into her mother’s arms.

“Oh my baby! Where were you, silly girl?” Her mother asked as she hugged her baby tight and wiped away her own tears.

“I made a wish to be invisible.” Lorelei said sheepishly, realizing it wasn’t one of her best ideas.

“Oh baby, why would you do such a thing? The world is better with you in it.”

As Lorelei returned to school, she noticed that the world had changed. Her peers were smiling and laughing with her, and they seemed to see her fully for the first time. They waved and smiled at her, she for the first time she felt a sense of belonging that she never had before.

She realized that her wish had been granted, but not in the way she had expected. She was finally being see and loved for who she was. And that, was the greatest gift of all.

by @nymian

There were different types of invisibility.

Obviously there was the superhero kind, which could usually be engaged and disengaged at the hero's own will.

There was social invisibility, such as those experiencing homelessness, overlooked by the eyes of the world; not something they could turn off.

Likewise there was invisible illness, as in the case of Carson Usher, diagnosed with idiopathic epilepsy when he was five.

Then, there was rather a different kind. . . .an existence unto itself.
The Unperceived.

Aggie Trussté was one. Unperceived visually, auditorily and tactilely -often completely, occasionally only for the most part. She could be speaking yet wouldn't be heard, or her voice would be like a whisper on the wind. . . She could brush against you yet would feel you more than you would feel her, if you did at all. You might catch a glimpse of her -could swear you just saw someone, but did you?

However, there existed those who could perceive The Unperceived so completely, they wouldn't even realize they were speaking with one until a third party came over and asked why they were carrying on a conversation or a meal with themselves?

Aggie reasoned there was something extra in the brains of the so-called "Perceivers" - that they could dial into the different frequency The Unperceived were on. Or, that there was something missing. Like how if you write the same word in a row -"the the"- you could miss that during a read-over because your brain interprets the second "the" as extra, unnecessary, and not worth perceiving. 
There are other examples.

Maybe the brains of those who could perceive her, just didn't go for such filtering and shortcutting. 

She honestly didn't know but she was interested in the story.
That's what drove Aggie: interest in the stories. The need to tell the ones not often told. To open the eyes of the world to the parts of it unseen.

Her invisibility gave her an edge as an investigative journalist. 
She could get closer than any other, the insidest inside scoop. 
Nobody knew how she did it.

Her boss certainly didn't. He not being a "Perceiver" himself wouldn't even know if she were standing right next to him. That was the benefit of a digital world where you could work remotely for an online news source. Aggie's friend, Arianne, helped her with the phone and in-person portion of the interview -having a Perceiving friend made life as an Unperceived SO much more functional- After that, her boss had no occasion to need to see her.

One could say Aggie's life didn't start out this way. 
When she was born, she was completely "normal" for the first day before "disappearing" to anyone outside of her immediate family. They later reasoned she was kept on her mother's "frequency" while in the womb, shifting over to her own once outside.

Beyond her parents and older brother, three more key players would come into Aggie's life: Lisa Oriol, who Aggie discovered could see her one day when they were both playing in the sandbox of the local park. A steadfast friend, shier about speaking openly with Aggie where non-perceivers could look at her like she were crazy, but never embarrassed about being Aggie's friend; the aforementioned Arianne, bold and deft enough to make the starers feel like the crazy ones. Aggie met her in highschool -of course Aggie had been homeschooled most of her life, but thought to try actually attending in her teenaged years. It's not as though she couldn't simply place her assignments and exams on the teacher's desk like any other student. Of course the school thought she was chronically absent -she got her diploma through correspondence.

Then there was Carson, who was Aggie's husband. Smooth towards her invisibility when out in public, he often had fun with it. Like one time on the bus. Carson always took the aisle seat since any Aggie sat in would appear unoccupied, and this saved her the usual trouble of having to be watchful and quick so as not to get sat on. On this occasion, she had her carrier bag in her lap. 

A strange fact about The Unperceived: when they were holding items, the items came under their invisible "vibrations" and became invisible as well. Just having the bag on her lap, however, it remained visible and looked as though it were sitting perfectly on the seat; not floating at lap height or anything.

Another passenger came on and asked Carson if he could move "his" bag so they could sit down.
"Oh, that's not mine," he answered with a smile.

The other passenger smiled back, a little impatiently: "Still, could you move it to the floor?"

"Sorry," he responded with a shrug of his hands, "as a general rule I choose not to touch unclaimed bags anywhere. Have you heard about those bomb threats?" He shook his head. "This world."

The woman just nodded and moved on.

"You know," Aggie pointed out afterward, with a knowing smile, "you could've played the part of the gentleman and given her your seat."

"Did you see the size of her bag? You might've wound up with two on your lap."

Aggie and Carson were a balance to each other. He had emotional stuff she was his ground for, and she had the trials of living an invisible life which he mitigated. Like how he'd always walk just in front of her, hand stretched back holding hers, when going through a crowd, so as to "snowplow" the crowd away: they would move out of the way for him thus allowing Aggie a free path forward as well. Again, saving her the need to be quick; weaving and dodging.

She knew she was one of the lucky ones. Between Carson and her girlfriends, and sheer luck at times, she had a lot more "normal" of a life than many -or most- Unperceived. 

She had a job. She'd been lucky enough to get her SIN card because an employee was a Perceiver.
Same with opening up a bank account. If she had needed to talk to someone over the phone, growing up her Mom pretended to be her. Now, Arianne tended to field it, like she did with Aggie's job interview. Likewise, Lisa would go to a separate medi-centre than the one she'd go to for herself, and get certain medications for Aggie under the guise of getting it for herself. Much easier than "shopping around" for a Perceiving doctor; it was lucky Aggie was healthy and not the type who felt the need to hit up a doctor for every little ailment.

But her circumstance made things scary with Carson's condition. If he were ever seizing long enough to require an ambulance call, it was likely Aggie wouldn't be heard by 911. The occasion had occurred. Fortunately, hearing nothing but the sounds Carson was making, an ambulance was sent out anyway. 

Being an Unperceived wasn't all trials, tribulations, and facing a myriad of challenges with cleverness, though. Some of it could be uniquely entertaining.

Especially this time of year. . . .
* * *

"OMG! This place is beyond!" A teen laughed nervously into the camera in her phone, filming herself a la The Blaire Witch Project on a dare; her current location the inside of a haunted Victorian mansion. 

"Using all my ghost gear I've detected faint noises, picked up whisps of movement from the camera trap and found hot spots--" Suddenly she screamed as her friend came up behind her. "Don't do that!" She turns the camera on them.

"I keep telling her ghosts are evidenced by cold spots. She doesn't listen." They look at their friend. "You don't listen." They revert to the camera: "Also, she didn't pick up on those images and sounds. I did. Without the bogus ghost gear, actually."

"Would you stop -why are you even here?" But she whacks their arm good naturedly. "You're messing with the vibe--"

BOOM

A heavy piece of furniture falls in the room down the hall from them.

"Okay! There is absolutely NO WAY that could've fallen on its own!" The duo is tentatively making their way to that room when the girl reacts as though she's suddenly lost her balance, falling into her friend. "Something just ran past me!-"

"-I saw it! A body part!"

"A what?! We've got to get out of here-" -she's already running- "That's enough footage -I've had enough -let's go!" She needn't have beckoned -her friend was right there as they hurried down the staircase. "Wait! The stuff! It was expensive."

But not one second later they nearly trip down the stairs as a sight down in the foyer catches them off guard.

All their ghost gear -camera trap, recorder, parabolic mic they'd accidentally left in another room, etc. -had been neatly placed on the small, clawed table by the door, the knob of which turning even as they watch and the door opening.

Nobody is on either side of it.

Except- "Don't you see that disembodied arm?!" The friend asks the other teen, wide-eyed.

"What the Hell!"

"Go now -it moved back -GO NOW!"

* * *

Benny saw the video on Shudder like everyone else did. Frankly he didn't believe it. People designed videos like that all the time. He was sure there was invisible string and editing tricks involved. Why did he have to be dragged along to this place himself to satisfy his cousin's need to join a trend?

"Okay, we're gonna' set the stuff up. Then-"

"I know," Benny interrupted. His boredom contrasting with his cousin's taking-this-way-too-seriously persona.

"Fine! Stay here then."

"And do what if I have to?" He let out a gusty breath. "I'll come with."

And so the boys made their way through the house in a thought out, calculated way. But as they did, Benny was beginning to notice something. ..they were being slowly and creepily tailed by a kid about their age, and he noticed other, older people stationed in certain areas of the room. It reminded him of something from the family's vacation last October.

"I thought this was supposed to be a real haunted house! Not the kind with actors! Those other videos were fa--"

"Shhh! You're messing up the reading --what are you even on about?!"

Benny pointed and turned, so his point became more like a sweeping motion. The kid tailing them paused as though he didn't know what to do now.

Benny's cousin just raised an eyebrow. "Whaaat?What are you pointing at?" His face suddenly paled. "Are you saying you've seen the ghosts?!"

Benny's brow furrowed. Wasn't his cousin seeing these "ghosts", too?
"Uh....I dun-nnnooo...."

His cousin regained his composer, his mouth twisted impatiently: "Don't make stuff up to satisfy your boredom, Benny. Why don't you double back and check some of our stuff then you'll see it was worth coming here. I'll bet you money on it."

Benny put his hands in his pockets and turned around again.
The other kid was no longer there. He didn't see the older people, either. 

He started back into another room thinking this place was messing with his head. "Maybe there's something in the air and we're all just halluci--"

"I'm not a hallucination." That kid stepped out from behind a wardrobe. "You just have the ability to perceive The Unperceived."

"What are...?"

"We all are." Came an older voice, as a man stepped out, placing his hand on the kid's shoulder. Then two elder folks, a man and a woman, and finally. . . 

Aggie: "And though this is a fun sport, it would be preferable if these nice people," -she gestured to the Unperceived family- "could live in their new-to-them house without regular drop-in guests." At this she moved passed Benny, cupping him reassuringly on the shoulder as she walked passed him -he seemed like a reasonable kid.

Not a hallucination for sure! Benny felt her hand as if it had been his own sister's. Not the least bit chilling like a ghost's...He looked like he was turning things over in his mind when he heard Aggie's voice coming from another room. "How attached are you all to the chandelier in this living room? I'm getting the vibe that bringing it down might scare this other one away."

Unperceived Man: "Just do it carefully."

Benny whipped from the sound of Aggie's voice back around to the the others. His cousin should have been able to hear that exchange. Instead Benny heard his cousin's voice faintly: "Wicked -got some voice-like static in this room."

"Why can't he hear or see you?"

"Like we said," the man answered, "we are The Unperceived. Invisible to most of society's eyes and ears."

The kid chimed in: "Even when I run full on into you -which is a favourite trick of mine to get out unwanteds- you don't feel it like you would from a typical person. Well, you would."

Benny's chest started to thump. He was perceiving ghosts -no, invisible people. These ones in front of him and that lady in the other room were apparently invisible people, and the evidence of this being fact A.K.A. his cousin's obliviousness, checked out.

"How many of you are there?"

The elder man answered: "In this house, or the world?"

Dumbstruck, Benny could hardly form his next question: "But I've never. . .How come. . ?"

"Noticed us before?" The elderly woman asked with a kindly smile. "You may've crossed paths with many in your life you wouldn't even realize were Unperceived.

The kid adds matter-of-factly: "Everyone's had an experience with one of us."

"Not all of us can be so lucky to find an abandoned place of our," -*ahem*- "own, like this." The man's eyes shift up at the sound of what's surely a crashing chandelier freaking out a 5th grader.

Benny ignored his cousin's yells -his foot falls as he hurried away -even ignored what is clearly the sound of his cousin leaving him behind, to ask: "Are you saying you live in other people's?"

"Know anyone who's ever found something in a different place than they're sure they left it?" An amused smile crosses his face.

Unperceived Kid: "Or felt the sensation of something brushing their skin? Like a breeze on a windless day?" They grinned in a way that Benny could only think of as creepily. "We're literally the things ghost stories are made of. Some people can only perceive us part way."

Suddenly an out of tune piano started to play. Benny leaned to look through another doorway and saw Aggie playing it. To most anyone else, it would appear as a player piano.

Unperceived Kid: "Tell your friends to respect the sounds that go bump in the night, Benny. They may be a friend they haven't met yet," the creepy grin remains.

While the implications of this percolated through Benny's young mind, Aggie played on, sporting a decidedly not creepy grin; 
the non-Perceivers were sure to have some captivating stories!

by @Master EffeX

The Invisible Man

How long has it been? To be seen by another. I have been here waiting to be seen. I feared I was forgotten, that time had erased all traces of my existence, and it was all for nought. Do not fear me, do not flee, please stay, stay a little while and humor me. Grace me with conversation, with your presence, anything to stave off the curse of being unseen. I am not what you see, I will not harm you, so please find it in your heart to stay, I will take your pity if it is all you will give me, your goodwill if you are generous enough. But please I beg of you to stay, do not leave me to the darkness of solitude, the grim despair of loneliness, for I can no longer bear it once you have seen me. I know you saw me, our eyes met, and I would ask you to give more than just a passing glance. Though I can offer nothing in return, for I have nothing left, nothing you can take, and thus nothing I can give. I know it is unfair, and perhaps you are used to having more transactional relationships with others. But assure you, I am destitute and alone, a broken shadow of what I once was, and were I to be wearing your shoes, I would not stoop so low to wallow with my wretched self. See, I can understand it, were our roles reversed, and you were the one beseeching me for the mercy of company, I would be repulsed by the unwashed filth and rags. I would never deign myself to be seen with such a miserable cretin, but you look kinder than I am. Younger, better, more exuberant and hale, you would be my hero. Yes, I guess that is what I have left to offer in return for your time spent with me, I would idolize you, worship you, and sing your praises with all my hollowed heart. Would it be enough for you, or would you need more for your time? What is the worth of a measure of respect from a nobody, a poor trade in turn, not worth your time. Perhaps it was better if we had never met. Go on then, turn away from me, do not gaze upon me with those eyes anymore, forget me. Leave me to the shadows from whence I came, I will dwell there a little more, forlorn until the guilt gnaws away at you. Then the day will come when the memory of my eyes, so full of hope at looking into yours in finding a kindred soul who saw me, will haunt your mind and weigh heavily in your heart. A burden you will bear as you go through your life, and wonder if you were the parasite in our brief relationship. For I had given you what little I had left, what hope I had clung to, my belief in you. And when you come to try and find me, I will be gone invisible to the world once more, and time will have erased all traces of my existence. Except in your mind, where you will always see me.
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