Conceal

I left the catacombs behind me, following a path that still bears a handful of human footprints...

This so-called city is a noisy collection of sights and sounds, in complete contrast to the silence that echoes in the catacombs. Its vivid volume completely overwhelmed my mind, it was an assault on all my senses that completely paralysed my body. My empty eye sockets stretched endlessly, absorbing the new things around me. Shops with strange signs, collections of human actions, objects I had never seen before... The thrill of freedom, the eerie feeling in my empty chest, amplified the excitement in every single bone cell of my bones.

"Hey"

As expected, my unusual appearance caused people to look at me strangely. A skeleton almost two metres tall in a not-so-discreetly tattered robe was walking in the middle of the street. This makes it difficult for me to walk into a shop, find a pub, even if it's deserted, and order a glass of wine without causing a stir.

Picking up litter is all I can think about at the moment. I need to find more old robes and pieces of cloth discarded in the alleys and streets and pile them up in layers to complete this appearance and make it more human. However, there are still skeletal problems that need to be addressed. The fact is that I can't go to a particular tailor and suddenly ask for a tailor-made suit for the skeleton.

"Darkness" - always a protective ally - works to my advantage. This time was no exception, the dim light of the streetlamp when moving at night could hide the faintness of my bones, helping to create a convincing enough deception of my form. It also helped me to be more confident in my movements, to imitate human gait, to stumble and recover from the clumsiness I had previously practised to master.

The interaction, the way of speaking and behaving, the facial expressions (although I lack the muscles to reproduce them) were also practised a few times with the vendors in the dark alleys, even though it was a risky business. I tilted my head when I asked the question and shrugged like a human, despite the suspicious looks they gave me. I tried to prove that I really was just a wanderer asking for directions in a completely new place.

But another barrier is sound. The clicking sound of my bones when I moved also attracted attention. It made the gossip about me appear more often, and the eyes of those who looked like warrior goblins, but taller and stronger, looked at me more. The more my bones trembled, the more my legs limped as I walked through a strange hall where unease was at its peak. I ran as soon as I was approached by several groups of people wearing armour and holding weapons at the same time (indeed, I needed to hide after a day of wandering).

Another difficult obstacle I found was language. Although I can understand human speech perfectly, creating words and communicating on my own is another matter entirely. My attempts to speak initially resulted in a series of shrieks and growls (similar to those of the undead) that frightened the small children and scattered pigeons. I struggled to control the flow of air through my empty nasal cavity to produce anything resembling a word, not to mention that my voice lacked the rhythmic intonation and warmth of a living person.

I am selective in my interactions, prioritising situations that require a minimum of words - the solution I can think of at the moment - and relying on gestures, nods and a carefully chosen one-word response. In some situations, if there is something unsettling, I will supplement my communication with an expressive look.

And so a master of illusion was born. I had become a ghost moving through the nooks and crannies of the city, an observer of the people. I am a silent spectator of pub brawls, a ghost in bustling markets, a silent observer of the painful human tragedy unfolding in the alleys!

I'm the one who can see things that others miss, details that ordinary observers cannot see. I can sneak into unnoticed places, into inaccessible places. I can cross narrow gaps and use my skeleton to squeeze through impossible spaces. I have become a master of penetration - literally blending perfectly into the darkness, invisible to all...

I can't eat in the traditional sense, but I can absorb nutrients through my porous bones, although it doesn't do much good. In fact, I don't have any money at all - it's round silver coins that I use to go to restaurants and order popular human dishes. But my bones are hungry too, so I have to find sources of rotting organic waste, and I eat what I can from the fruit and vegetables rotting in the city's rubbish heaps. The process was unpleasant but necessary, to say the least, to leave a distinctive aroma, though I managed to disguise it with perfumes and aromas that remained in the glass jars overgrown with green moss.

My only solace was the city library, where I devoured books to forget my insatiable hunger. I learned about history, philosophy, art and literature, filling the gaps in my skeleton with knowledge. Books are a kind of balm for my soul, giving me a sense of connection to the human world and an insight into the myriad facets of its existence. I am particularly fascinated by philosophical treatises that reflect on the nature of consciousness, the meaning of life and the mystery of existence. It was in these books that I found a sense of purpose, a reason for my unusual existence.

My present life is a far cry from the past, though it is a precarious dance on the brink of discovery and exposure, a constant negotiation between concealment and revelation. Every day is a challenge, every interaction a gamble. But in the midst of uncertainty and danger, there is a freedom of excitement that is always present. I live, I experience the world in a way that no skeleton has ever experienced before. And that, more than anything, has fuelled my determination to persevere. My journey has only just begun. The city is my painting, the darkness is my cloak, and the human world is my stage. I have learned, matured, adapted and hidden my true nature, step by step, in secret.

My every move, every dance is carefully choreographed to maintain the illusion, to preserve my fragile existence in a world that is both hostile and fascinating. I was no longer a ghostless ghost, a hazy mist...