A Phantom to Lead you

Frank and his mother took a taxi from the York train station, with three suitcases stuffed into the trunk, and the extra luggage piled between them. Frank had been silent the entire flight and train ride, keeping both earbuds in with his music turned all the way up.
It was a frigid cold day. The mist looked close enough to touch. They were in a foreign country, and a strange city that was built on the ruins of an ancient Roman fort, a Viking capital, and a medieval strong hold. The streets were narrow and winding sending a dreadful feeling into frank's spine as he observed the dark, endless alley ways.
Frank did a lot of thinking since the incident and that of course meant he was quieter, less energetic than he once was. He constantly tried to seem like he was okay. He told the doctors he was okay. He told his mother that he was okay. He told everyone at school he was okay, but in reality he wasn't okay. He wasn't o-fucking-kay and the more he was pestered about his feelings the more worn out he got.
Frank's therapist thought it would be good for Frank to get out of the small town, to take a break from school and reality for a while. No matter how far frank was from his hometown it wouldn't change the fact that Brendon was dead. He was gone and no one and nothing could change that.
Frank and his mother, Linda, had come to York because of her work as a musician and apparently there was a family friend how worked in York as a historian. They were staying at an apartment during their time in the cold European Town.
"It's on a street called Shambles," Linda told the taxi driver, digging around in her bag for the directions she had printed out. "Do you know it? It's near Coppergate?"
The driver chuckled and nodded "don't worry, I know where the Shambles is." they pulled up to a narrow alleyway "Now, all that luggage is your problem, cars can't go down the Shambles, I'll take you as far as I can." The driver stopped the car. "here you are, tha's far as I go. Enjoy your stay in town"
"thank you" Frank mumbled completely unenthusiastic.
As soon as he climbed out of the taxi Frank could tell that the street was far too narrow for cars. It was lined with old, rundown, half-timbered houses and buildings. Some leaning dangerously forward so that it seemed you could pass something across to a house on the other side of the street. Although it was a dank, dark and dreadful afternoon the street was thronged with scattered tourists. The pair made their way to the apartment building, Frank wishing people would just ducking get out of his way. Were they blind and couldn't see that he was dragging two suitcases and a messenger bag? The bag was heavy. Filled with Xanax and items that felt like concrete.
"It's just like in Harry Potter! Like Diagon alley isn't it?" Frank's mother insisted, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Frank nodded and smiled halfheartedly, sometimes it felt like his mother forgot he was sixteen, almost seventeen, not six almost seven. But in all honestly he had to admit it had a similar aesthetic to that of Diagon alley, quaint and rustic. Every building looked centuries old. All it needed was a thatched roof, a wand store, and the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and the picture would be complete.
Frank paused to adjust his bags. His mother, who was a few feet ahead of him stopped near a shop window with a sign above it that read Winchester's pies and Fancies.
"I'm just going in to her the key I'll be right back" Linda smiled softly as Frank approached her. The teenager nodded and leaned against the brick wall, trying to ignore the cold as his mother walked into the shop.
Hopefully this 'flat' wouldn't be too bad. Originally it was used for a storage space for the pie shop and the renovations had only been completed a month or so ago. Frank and his mother were the first to be staying there ever. So it could be completely horrid, or it could be a nice place.
The building across the street looked run-down, and as if it was in need of some renovations its self. Frank was in amazed that the slouching top two floors were still standing. In contrast to the neighboring buildings, which were either scrubbed brick or freshly painted, this house was delinquent and peeling. All but one of the windows were boarded up. It looked completely out of place and obscure in such a photogenic town street.
As Frank's eyes scanned the building searching for something to distract him he noticed someone leaning against the building. He wore a black leather jacket and had jet black hair that fell in front of his eyes, A cigarette placed in between his pale lips. He was pale, unbelievably so. He wore black and red converse and ripped black jeans that seemed far too thin for comfort in this weather.
Frank hadn't intended to stare but there was something peculiar and 'off' about him. He wasn't attractive in a way that people would expect. He was too pale too sullen, and not muscular enough to meet society's expectations, but for some reason Frank found himself admiring the man.
He turned, catching Frank as he stared at the far too interesting person. Frank hid his face in his hoodie blushing immensely. He wished he could just disappear into the ground or behind his luggage. Before hiding in his black scarf and hoodie he glanced at the young man's face. There was not interest, not indignation, not even worry or discomfort, but suspicion. He seemed agitated.
The store's bell rang letting out a light chime, and Linda walked out of the shop. "Frank, my historian friend is here, Mr.Schechter!" she announced in an overly enthusiastic voice. Frank understood his mother's attempts to make him smile with her positive attitude, but honestly it only pissed him off.
"Oh.. yeah..." Frank acknowledged vaguely, only recognizing the name from his mother's random chatter. The man across the street caught Frank's eyes again, his hair tossed about in the wind making his already overly dramatic appearance more dramatic.
Linda led her son to the apartment rambling on about how amazing York is. "..you know they say York is one of the most haunted places in the world..." Frank heard his mother say. A shiver went down his spine as her voice echoed in his mind. His stomach churned at the idea of seeing ghosts. It wasn't that he was really scared, it was just the dismal feeling of sadness he got when experiencing seeing a dead human being.
Naturally Frank hadn't told anyone he could see ghosts. Not the doctors who would only give him more drugs, certainly not his mother who would only get more concerned and then in turn, tell the doctors, who would give him more drugs. He hadn't told anyone about seeing Brendon, or any of the other phantoms he had seen out of the corner of his eye.
Late one night Frank had been with his mother, driving along the winding country roads when he saw someone walking into the road. He had let out a strangled cry flinching when he saw the blood dripping down the figures limbs, a huge gash tainting the pastel blue shirt it wore. After scaring the life out of his parent he realized all she could see was the night sky and the street lamps that lined the road.
Once Frank was at the lake with a couple guys from school. He wouldn't exactly call them his friends but they were nice enough. Frank had suddenly felt an unsettling, unseasonably come air that he felt run up his spine. He saw a dainty, somewhat transparent hand reach up through the feel waters. He saw the grey face of a woman who looked as of she screamed rise up through the rippling waters. Frank jumped up, scrambling up the bank and away from the water. The guys he was with... Quinn and Andy had no idea what had spooked him. They had no clue of the ghostly woman that had materialized below the surface of the peaceful lake.
Frank wondered- no he was sure- he had seen more ghosts with out even knowing it. Although it wasn't really a topic of discussion. I mean even the internet would have thought he was crazy. Even Tumblr--TUMBLR of all places didn't belive him. Quinn and Andy and the other guys at school had been somewhat sympathetic but Frank knew they would exchange glances when he was being jumpy or... Just weird. Since the accident they thought he was messed-up, frangile, unhinged. If Frank told them he could see ghosts they would think he was more of a freak then they already beloved him to be.
If York really was as haunted as his mother insisted... Frank shuddered. He didn't want to think about it. Not yet. Not until they proved to be a problem. Frank had learned one thing from the accident: Ghosts were everywhere weather he wanted to see them or not.

Notes

Heya! I only have two more chapters that are already written so I might update more chapters later tonight. Frank arrives in york and sees a mysterious figure. comment and let me know what you think.