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canaryrose
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Captain Uni
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Deadline
JFK
MoleWelcome to the Voting and Feedback round for RPGC#29!
It is Halloween, and I have five stories for you to get you in the mood.
Voting and Feedback guidelines
- Please take your time to read through all the entries before voting for your favourite work. Did it make you laugh or cry? Was it the most original? Did it have the best grammar? The reasons you base your vote on are up to you, as long the vote isn’t based on whether or not you like the author.
It would be nice if you could share why you voted for a specific work too. - Giving feedback is optional but highly encouraged. When giving feedback you should be respectful and constructive. It’s good to point but the flaws in the story as it will help the writer grow, but don’t be mean.
Make sure to point out what you liked or what worked well too. - Contestant may and are encouraged to vote for and give feedback for the other entries, but don’t vote for your own entry. If contestants wish to withhold a vote and only give feedback, that is good too.
- The entries are anonymous unless the writer asked for having their name added. That being said, writers may claim their work at any time during the voting period.
- The entry with the most votes will win, but in case of a tie a Contest Mod will cast the tie-breaker vote.
- You can vote for entries and post your feedback in this thread.
- If you rather have your vote and/or feedback be anonymous you can PM it to @Calle instead.
- The voting period deadline is November 10th, 9:00 GMT+1, which is 7:00 game time (both times are in a.m.).
The Entries
Violence
"Now, I want you to start from the beginning," said the deputy over a strained smile, "how many people were you with, and what were you doing in the church?"
"All I remember is screaming," said the young man trembling on the other side of the table. He took a sip of water and a long drag of his cigarette, "there was me, Ed, Tammy, and Jewel. Jewel was... she was my girl friend." He swallowed, and wiped his face with a shaking hand, "the bunch of us were close, like family close, but Jewel was so messed up." He took a tearful drag of his cigarette, "there was something wrong with her...."
******************
"GRAB HER LEGS! HOLD HER!" yelled Ed, trying his best to get a hold on one of the flailing arms of the screeching woman on the ground at his feet. Tammy stepped up, all 250lbs of her, and tried to grab the other arm. The girl on the ground shoved her violently and she flew twenty feet into the mud and muck.
"RRRAAAAAHGGRRHHAAA!!!" pierced the screeching woman's voice, her jaw stretching open like it was breaking.
The sound put ice in David's bones, but he forced himself to move and grab the woman's shoulder, "It's okay sweetheart," he said intently, "I love you! Jewel, I love you! We love you, we need to help you!" As if triggered by his voice, the young woman convulsed and soon after her body relaxed as if asleep. David and Ed were able to get a firm hold of her limbs and Tammy hoisted herself from where she was thrown; the three of them moved her into the old church.
"Why did you pick this place?" asked David as they carried the limp Jewel down the isle. The old building was a type of ruin that only a Catholic church could make. The solid oak pews were rotted in places, missing, or broken where parts of the roof had fallen and crashed into them. The walls held an unsettling set of gilded and broken frames depicting Christ's journey to the cross, the montage terminated at the foot of the stage where the Priest was supposed to give his liturgy and the alter where the acolytes prepared the elements for holy mass. Behind the alter there was erected a large, strangely well-preserved stained glass presenting a macabre and gory crucifixion of Christ. The image gave the authority of violence to anyone speaking in front of it, a fact that the clergy must've used to their benefit in the working days of the church.
"This village is a hub of supernatural power," Tammy said, walking gently on a hurt ankle, "A cannibal was heard to live around here, and the spirit of a woman who was murdered haunts one of these houses. It's like everything that dies here stays here, it's a perfect place t..."
"Let's put her up there." Interrupted Ed.
******************
"Ed was the leader, right?" asked the Deputy, writing notes on a little pad of paper, "Ed Morales?"
David stamped out his cigarette in the little ashtray on the table. He pulled out another from the pack and lit it in one, smooth motion. "We don't have a leader," he said with the lit smoke bobbing between his lips, "we are NOT a cult!"
"Uh-huh," the deputy said, not looking up from his writing.
"But he was in charge, yeah." David slumped in his chair, "he was the only one who knew what was going on, what we were doing..."
******************
"On the alter!" Ed commanded, helping David lift her up. "Tammy, set the candles up. David, hold her. I'll be right back," with that he turned and walked up the aisle and out the front door.
David watched him leave, and then turned to the quietly sleeping young girl on the alter before him. "Oh honey," he said, gently stroking her cheek, "I'm so sorry, it's going to be okay." Her hair blew across her smooth forehead and for a moment, David thought she looked like an angel.
Tammy huffed up the short steps separating the floor from the stage, "Done," she said, catching her breath. Purple candles were now lit and fluttered in places all around the alter. She looked down at Jewel, "It's going to be your love that will save her ya' know, all of our love. That's how you beat evil, that's how we do this." She smiled warmly at David and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. David smiled back, then Jewel began to stir. An inhuman growl began to grow from her throat and her body began to undulate on the alter. "Oh f#ck!" Tammy said.
"TIE HER DOWN!!" Yelled Ed, running back from the broken entrance doors. He angrily threw some rope at David and the two of them got to work. They wrapped the rope over Jewel's body and under the alter three or four times before she began to speak.
"EeegggaaahEEerrROOWwahhgGHUULLL!!!" her voice was low and raspy, it undulated like her body. David looked at her face and her eyes had rolled up into her head and her expression was angry, terrifyingly angry. He froze and his breath stuck in his throat. Jewel gargled and it almost sounded like laughter.
"Hurry!" Tammy yelled as she grabbed the rope from David and began working it over and under with Ed, pulling it tight. They moved quickly and soon Jewel was secured to the alter and struggling against her bonds.
******************
"They uh..." David said, bouncing his leg, "they thought she was possessed," he took a drag from his cigarette. "They had been planning it for months, though I... uhh, I didn't know. Ed had a tape, and he said they, they analyzed her voice, and they said she was speaking like, Latin or something. I don't know, it's not my thing. I just used to like exploring and stuff, they were into the spiritual stuff." The deputy didn't speak.
"Son," the cop finally said, "that chapel was covered in blood when we got there, wall to wall, I hadn't seen nothin' like that in all my life," he slowly stood up and leaned into David, anger showing through his words, "the only reason you are here, is because we don't understand how you were found in the middle of that room and not a SPECK! of blood on you. Can you explain that to me?"
"All I remember is screaming," David said, his voice breaking, "I don't know what happened sir... oh God... I can still hear them screaming!" he buried his head in his hands and began to weep. "I'll tell you everything..."
******************
Ed pulled a book from his satchel, The Rite of Exorcism, by the Catholic church. "By the authority of our Lord, Jesus Christ, I command you Demon..." he began to read. Ed believed himself more holy than the priests, and with more authority in the name of God. He had mystical experiences while taking LSD and DMT, and that gave him the impression that he was somehow a prophet. This was his plan, his idea, and he knew it would work. He was counting on the fact that this building and this place would suck the demon from the girl, but only if they could weaken its hold on her enough to do it. The Adderall in his bloodstream gave him confidence and mental clarity, he felt in control of the situation.
"Guardian of the North I invoke thee!" cried Tammy at the same time as Ed, "Guardian of the South, I invoke thee!!" Her hands stretched to Heaven as she spoke. She was Wiccan, a priestess who got her official certificate online. She had studied the art of exorcism and felt that she could help free the soul of this woman. Ed brought her in for a second opinion, as if he were a doctor, to validate the possession and the need for an exorcism. The screaming girl before them seemed to prove their theory. Their plan was to perform the exorcism ritual from each of their respective religions like giving a loading dose of antibiotics to combat an infection.
David and Jewel were just a couple of kids in their early 20s. They had taken MDMA with Ed and some other friends and felt the kind of trusting bond that is uniquely expedited by hard core therapy drugs. Jewel had also been taking antipsychotics; Lexapro, Effexor, and others; since she was kid and always felt a little unstable. Earlier this evening her and David had each eaten a bag of psychedelic mushrooms, provided to them by Ed.
The wind was picking up quickly in the church, Ed and Tammy were yelling and Jewel was screeching. David felt useless and stepped away from the alter. "...the POWER of CHRIST!" "...the HOLY GODDESS!!" they yelled.
"What the f#ck!" David said. The wind was growing stronger and harder, like a tornado bombarding the inside of the building. Debris and broken wood began to swirl and crash into the walls and pews. A strange new sound began to echo from the walls; a hollow, grating moan like an animal dying.
"MASSTTAAHHHR!!!" Jewel screeched from the alter, "MASTAHRRR!!" Ed was yelling and savagely flinging water at the spasmodic woman. Tammy was chanting louder and louder, her voice building into an incomprehensible jumble of words as she entered into a state of spiritual ecstasy.
David began to panic. There was something else in the room, something living inside of the mounting bedlam. He stumbled away from alter, which seemed to be the eye of the storm, into the middle row between the pews. As he got further from the shrieking of his friends he began to hear disembodied voices singing rotted church hymns. Strange, pale lights began to float in the pews until they looked like bodies materializing from the dust and smoke of the storm. David's head tried to look in all directions at once, but the howling of the vortex had turned everything into a single mass grey and black.
The last thing he could make out was the bright red of the stained glass behind the alter. The mutilated figure of Christ seemed like it began to move inside of the mural. David could make out the silhouette of Jewel in front of the iridescent bloody glass but by now the other two were lost in the swirling grey of the storm. The mangled figure that was supposed to be Christ ripped itself from the cross and it's mouth opened to reveal an infernal grotto of sharp, glittering teeth. Then it unleashed an agonizing scream that knocked David to the ground. Over the roar of the storm David could feel the scream dig into his soul. He felt the excruciating pleas of people burning to death, the whimpering cries of animals being tortured, so much more he could only experience and not comprehend. The demon in the glass screamed with the voices of all those who had died by violence!
******************
Tammy had been smart enough to tell one of her co-witches from her online coven where she was going and what she was doing, so when she didn't check in in the morning her friend called the police. A local Deputy was sent to follow up and upon surveying the scene radioed in for more cops, an ambulance, and someone from a Federal office to get there ASAP!
An unconscious David was dug out from under an overturned pew. When he woke up he was lying on a gurney surrounded by flashing lights and the noise of rigorous activity. There were EMTs buzzing around him doing some sort of things that EMTs do. The deputy trotted over when he saw David was awake. "It's okay son, you're okay now. You feeling okay?" he said, gripping David's shoulder and inspecting his eyes. "You think you can answer a few questions for me?" David nodded shakily, not sure what was going on.
"Do you have any cigarettes?" David asked. The deputy looked surprised for a moment.
"Sure son, sure." He said, "Let me just go round some up." He turned and disappeared somewhere behind the gurney. David craned his head to see and it looked like the deputy was talking to some paramedics and one of the other cops who was there. After a few moments he came back and helped David to his feet, together they walked over to one of the cabins still on the property near the church. There was a a small table and a couple of chairs that looked like they had just been pulled from someone's trunk. David didn't see who, but someone had put a small glass of water, an open pack of Marlboro's with a lighter, and a small tin ashtray on the table. David sat down and lit a cigarette.
"Now, I want you to start from the beginning," said the deputy over a strained smile, "how many people were you with, and what were you doing in the church?"
by @Maglar
It wasn’t raining, it was pouring. It had been cold and dreadful all day but when the clouds decided to drop their burdens the mood of the female sank deeper. There she was, stranded in some old and abandoned village and her car in a ditch. She still didn’t really understand what happened, she had just been driving on the nearby road and through the wall of rain, she thought she saw someone in the middle of the road, although road was highly exaggerated it was more of forest trail wide enough for a vehicle, and tried braking and evading which made her car spin out of control and ended up in the ditch. It wasn’t really helping that her annoyingly cheerful brother was making the best of the situation and was exploring a nearby abandoned village.
Frustrated she tried to get a signal on her phone but they were either too far away to pick up any signal or something interfered. A howl in the woods made a shiver go down her spine and she had little choice but to resign to the fact they were stranded here and they wouldn’t be able to get any help today. Gabe had been working in their uncle's cabin and she just picked him up. Perhaps their uncle would come looking for them tomorrow.
She grabbed a bag from the trunk and walked over to the first building she saw and went inside, by the sound of it her brother was there too. Shivering she tried to find the least drafty spot in the house while she looked around. Maybe they could get a fire started in the fireplace. If the chimney wasn’t broken or blocked completely.
“Gabe?” she shouted through the house. She stopped as she thought she heard a scream but at the same time she heard “Coming” and moments later and the footsteps indicated her brother was indeed coming. Sarah shrugged it off as a high pitched wind sound traveling through a narrow crack. Bound to be dozens, smaller and bigger, cracks in the house.
“And?” Sarah asked.
“Nothing but a house that is in dreadful state. I think I saw two big rats.” Gabe replied as he rubbed his hands.
Sarah shrugged, rodents were to be expected. She didn’t notice her brother looking around and looking slightly nervous at every sound.
Gabe sat down on a chair that moaned under the weight. “You think this is the village uncle told us about? The haunted one? I mean he always told us stories about the spooky village not far from his cabin.”
Sarah rolled her eyes mentally, only a slight lift of her eyebrow hinted a real one wasn’t far off. “Really Gabe, ghosts don’t exist. So far I’ve seen nothing that wasn’t scientifically explainable.”
“I don’t know sis, I thought I heard footsteps earlier. and a scream. That’s why I checked the house.”
“Perhaps it was a combination of your rats, the rain and wind and the cracking of wood.” she replied. “Now let’s see if we can get a fire going so we can at least sit in comfortable warmth. Found some dry wood by any chance?”
Gabe nodded, not convinced but he wouldn’t be able to convince his sister, nor she him, “Well there some pieces that were once good furniture and a door that has fallen down.”
A howl sounded through the house. Gabe got goosebumps. “What was that?”
Sarah glanced at Gabe. “The wind howling through cracks, what else? it’s a wonder this building is still standing. You go get that wood and I’ll inspect the fireplace.” she said as she got up to do just that.
Gabe nodded reluctantly and set off to the usable wood he saw earlier.
Sarah set to her task and with a long branch that was stuck in a broken window she managed to get a nest out of the chimney. After brushing the ashes a bit aside she looked around what else she could be doing.
It was taking Gabe longer than she expected. She listened, frowning slightly. “You better not be trying some sort of practical joke Gabriel. hurry up with that wood.”
A strange thumping noise drew her attention.
The temperature seemed to drop and she felt a cold breeze.
Was that laughter she heard? She wasn’t sure. It didn’t sound like her brother at all.
She turned in the direction Gabe went and she froze.
There was her brother, floating in the air on his back, eyes wide in terror, a scream stifled on his lips and a ghastly green light shimmering in his eyes. Next to him was a woman, hovering above the ground, a greenish glow surrounded her and she could see right through her. A face that once was pretty was looking horrific now. An eerie high pitched laugh sounded as the woman hovered closer, her brother following the apparition as if he was on a leash.
Frozen in shock Sarah watched the ghastly figure and when the ghost raised her arm to Sarah, Sarah did something she never thought she would ever do. She screamed.
Frustrated she tried to get a signal on her phone but they were either too far away to pick up any signal or something interfered. A howl in the woods made a shiver go down her spine and she had little choice but to resign to the fact they were stranded here and they wouldn’t be able to get any help today. Gabe had been working in their uncle's cabin and she just picked him up. Perhaps their uncle would come looking for them tomorrow.
She grabbed a bag from the trunk and walked over to the first building she saw and went inside, by the sound of it her brother was there too. Shivering she tried to find the least drafty spot in the house while she looked around. Maybe they could get a fire started in the fireplace. If the chimney wasn’t broken or blocked completely.
“Gabe?” she shouted through the house. She stopped as she thought she heard a scream but at the same time she heard “Coming” and moments later and the footsteps indicated her brother was indeed coming. Sarah shrugged it off as a high pitched wind sound traveling through a narrow crack. Bound to be dozens, smaller and bigger, cracks in the house.
“And?” Sarah asked.
“Nothing but a house that is in dreadful state. I think I saw two big rats.” Gabe replied as he rubbed his hands.
Sarah shrugged, rodents were to be expected. She didn’t notice her brother looking around and looking slightly nervous at every sound.
Gabe sat down on a chair that moaned under the weight. “You think this is the village uncle told us about? The haunted one? I mean he always told us stories about the spooky village not far from his cabin.”
Sarah rolled her eyes mentally, only a slight lift of her eyebrow hinted a real one wasn’t far off. “Really Gabe, ghosts don’t exist. So far I’ve seen nothing that wasn’t scientifically explainable.”
“I don’t know sis, I thought I heard footsteps earlier. and a scream. That’s why I checked the house.”
“Perhaps it was a combination of your rats, the rain and wind and the cracking of wood.” she replied. “Now let’s see if we can get a fire going so we can at least sit in comfortable warmth. Found some dry wood by any chance?”
Gabe nodded, not convinced but he wouldn’t be able to convince his sister, nor she him, “Well there some pieces that were once good furniture and a door that has fallen down.”
A howl sounded through the house. Gabe got goosebumps. “What was that?”
Sarah glanced at Gabe. “The wind howling through cracks, what else? it’s a wonder this building is still standing. You go get that wood and I’ll inspect the fireplace.” she said as she got up to do just that.
Gabe nodded reluctantly and set off to the usable wood he saw earlier.
Sarah set to her task and with a long branch that was stuck in a broken window she managed to get a nest out of the chimney. After brushing the ashes a bit aside she looked around what else she could be doing.
It was taking Gabe longer than she expected. She listened, frowning slightly. “You better not be trying some sort of practical joke Gabriel. hurry up with that wood.”
A strange thumping noise drew her attention.
The temperature seemed to drop and she felt a cold breeze.
Was that laughter she heard? She wasn’t sure. It didn’t sound like her brother at all.
She turned in the direction Gabe went and she froze.
There was her brother, floating in the air on his back, eyes wide in terror, a scream stifled on his lips and a ghastly green light shimmering in his eyes. Next to him was a woman, hovering above the ground, a greenish glow surrounded her and she could see right through her. A face that once was pretty was looking horrific now. An eerie high pitched laugh sounded as the woman hovered closer, her brother following the apparition as if he was on a leash.
Frozen in shock Sarah watched the ghastly figure and when the ghost raised her arm to Sarah, Sarah did something she never thought she would ever do. She screamed.
The light shone upon the dusty altar. The gleam of forlorn silver relics catching the shine, an empty chalice for the wine and a barren platter for bread. The religious art peeling away from the plaster as fading pigments erased images of divinity. Gone were the angels, the saints, the holy ones, just as the font of holy water had run dry ages ago. There was no one left to worship the forgotten, but shifting in the shadows were scuttling shapes. The spiders where the congregates now spinning their webs across the rows of pews and the rats taken to the pantry. The bats took the rafters hanging overhead and a great owl served as the sentry at the belfry. But where was the priest?
Where was the priest? Who once knelt before the altar, who preached to the flock, and who sanctified the grounds? One faithful day, the parishioner's prayers for enlightenment was answered by a voice. A voice which urged the unthinkable, the convincing argument of the weaknesses of man. The fleeting nature of the body, the carnality of its needs, the wretchedness of its sins. And bit by bit, the priest agreed, the wisdom of the voice cannot be denied, cannot be comprehended by flesh. Blood had baptized the priest, a blessing of madness, a love to be shared. The screams of joy and rapture, each agonizing flaying of the knife became epiphany. The truths of the heavens written across the torn parchment, stitched together the verses of perfection. The lambs slaughtered as an offering, burnt as the voice commanded.
In the smoke the priest could see the angel which guided the ascension. The suggestion of folded wings and circular halo, the smile pleased with the priest's faithful obedience. The admiration of the art, the sacrifice made as the priest took to knees weeping blood. A touch of the divines which anointed over the crazed brow and each panting breath took in the gentle smoke. The work was not done, this was only one herd, one tribute sent in the smoke. More souls needed to be saved, more was asked of the priest. The unbelievers would be evangelized until they too saw the beauty in the grand design. A revelation to be spread, a zealous prophet to declare the new commandment which echoed in the mind.
Kill... Kill... Kill...
The words scrawl by trembling fingers over the once sacred altar, in profane blood repeated the word a hundred times across the linen, stones, and wood. Release the souls from the flesh, cleanse them of the earthly filth that stunk into the highest of heavens. This was the divine mission, the glory manifested, and the good work to be done. But flesh was weak, and soon the others would come to the altar, souls to be cut from their tainted bodies. The second truth came upon the whispers, an offered solution to the unfinished nature of expanding the flock. With a maniacal smile the priest slashed away, gutted the last of his earthly remains singing the hymns and praises. With the lunacy of laughs of final exaltation, the smoke filled the madman's lungs and took the final breath away.
The blood had long since dried upon the altar, cloth, wood, and stone drank the burgundy elixir. None dared to enter ever since the incident, the massacre of the mad priest who had murdered his entire congregation during a sermon. They had felt the presence of the Devil at work, the evil which had infested the walls like termites in the wood work. A great decay of rot, festering on the inside, rust corroding away at the strongest of metals and faiths. They had sealed the building, condemned it to the blazing abyss, and not a single soul would cross it. Yet the darkness and macabre mystery surrounding the sanctuary of evil drew you in did it not? It tantalized you with the forbidden, preyed upon your lust for knowledge, and smiled at your foolish damnable pride...
With a creak you stepped in, past the fallen great doors, the ancient floorboards groaning beneath your feet. The shadows danced at the blade of light you brandished, searching for any signs. The skittering of vermin hiding away from your presence, your entrance breaking the deathly silence with every curious step. Was it so wise to enter in the dead of night? To have snuck into this godforsaken place? The feeling of dread and anticipation, the primal urges to run far away from this mistake crawling like maggots across the skin. But you were so sure, so curious, and with each faithful step you heard the strain of the wood like wailing moans.
The ancient bell in the tower began to clang, the hooting of an owl and dozens of fluttering flaps of waking bats fleeing from the rafters. Like smoke they rose from the steeple, a ravenous swarm from the pits of Hell, a black shadow against the evening sky. There your heart beat faster trembling at the sudden cacophony of squeaks and chirps and who's against the hollow bell. Your grip tightened on the flashlight, steadying yourself and throwing a second glance back at the open door. Did the bell usher in the start of service? Did you expect an occult crowd to flock? Or perhaps the haunting spirits of the dead who were cursed to relive their deaths bound by what infernal powers claimed them? And just as you turn once more to the light upon the altar...
"Welcome my child."
Where was the priest? Who once knelt before the altar, who preached to the flock, and who sanctified the grounds? One faithful day, the parishioner's prayers for enlightenment was answered by a voice. A voice which urged the unthinkable, the convincing argument of the weaknesses of man. The fleeting nature of the body, the carnality of its needs, the wretchedness of its sins. And bit by bit, the priest agreed, the wisdom of the voice cannot be denied, cannot be comprehended by flesh. Blood had baptized the priest, a blessing of madness, a love to be shared. The screams of joy and rapture, each agonizing flaying of the knife became epiphany. The truths of the heavens written across the torn parchment, stitched together the verses of perfection. The lambs slaughtered as an offering, burnt as the voice commanded.
In the smoke the priest could see the angel which guided the ascension. The suggestion of folded wings and circular halo, the smile pleased with the priest's faithful obedience. The admiration of the art, the sacrifice made as the priest took to knees weeping blood. A touch of the divines which anointed over the crazed brow and each panting breath took in the gentle smoke. The work was not done, this was only one herd, one tribute sent in the smoke. More souls needed to be saved, more was asked of the priest. The unbelievers would be evangelized until they too saw the beauty in the grand design. A revelation to be spread, a zealous prophet to declare the new commandment which echoed in the mind.
Kill... Kill... Kill...
The words scrawl by trembling fingers over the once sacred altar, in profane blood repeated the word a hundred times across the linen, stones, and wood. Release the souls from the flesh, cleanse them of the earthly filth that stunk into the highest of heavens. This was the divine mission, the glory manifested, and the good work to be done. But flesh was weak, and soon the others would come to the altar, souls to be cut from their tainted bodies. The second truth came upon the whispers, an offered solution to the unfinished nature of expanding the flock. With a maniacal smile the priest slashed away, gutted the last of his earthly remains singing the hymns and praises. With the lunacy of laughs of final exaltation, the smoke filled the madman's lungs and took the final breath away.
The blood had long since dried upon the altar, cloth, wood, and stone drank the burgundy elixir. None dared to enter ever since the incident, the massacre of the mad priest who had murdered his entire congregation during a sermon. They had felt the presence of the Devil at work, the evil which had infested the walls like termites in the wood work. A great decay of rot, festering on the inside, rust corroding away at the strongest of metals and faiths. They had sealed the building, condemned it to the blazing abyss, and not a single soul would cross it. Yet the darkness and macabre mystery surrounding the sanctuary of evil drew you in did it not? It tantalized you with the forbidden, preyed upon your lust for knowledge, and smiled at your foolish damnable pride...
With a creak you stepped in, past the fallen great doors, the ancient floorboards groaning beneath your feet. The shadows danced at the blade of light you brandished, searching for any signs. The skittering of vermin hiding away from your presence, your entrance breaking the deathly silence with every curious step. Was it so wise to enter in the dead of night? To have snuck into this godforsaken place? The feeling of dread and anticipation, the primal urges to run far away from this mistake crawling like maggots across the skin. But you were so sure, so curious, and with each faithful step you heard the strain of the wood like wailing moans.
The ancient bell in the tower began to clang, the hooting of an owl and dozens of fluttering flaps of waking bats fleeing from the rafters. Like smoke they rose from the steeple, a ravenous swarm from the pits of Hell, a black shadow against the evening sky. There your heart beat faster trembling at the sudden cacophony of squeaks and chirps and who's against the hollow bell. Your grip tightened on the flashlight, steadying yourself and throwing a second glance back at the open door. Did the bell usher in the start of service? Did you expect an occult crowd to flock? Or perhaps the haunting spirits of the dead who were cursed to relive their deaths bound by what infernal powers claimed them? And just as you turn once more to the light upon the altar...
"Welcome my child."
A woman rode into the abandoned hamlet, wide-brimmed hat and upturned collar deflecting the rain away from her. She gazed up at the moon, blinking once as a droplet struck her eye, and then turned towards the church, raising the lantern she carried a little higher. The hooves of her steed carried her towards the church with ease, trotting over twigs and puddles without any annoyance in its movement. Once her beast had come to the entrance, she gave the reins a simple tug in order to halt it. Before her stood the doors of the church; once stalwart defenders to any that had needed to take refuge inside, now rotten, the corpses of trees now twice-corpses in their dissolution.
Sighing, she twisted the reins about and tied them to a post by the church, making sure her mount was securely in place before turning her attention towards the building. Reaching into a pocket, she drew out a small handful of shimmering powder, using the water that had fallen onto the stone porch to make a gritty paste, then, slowly, dragging three fingers about the destroyed entrance. Her fingers ran across hard stone and rusted iron hinges, leaving a gleaming trail behind. Once it was complete she tossed the rest of the paste against the floor, brushing any remaining flecks off on her jacket.
Then, she stepped past it, into the desecrated house of worship. The pews were set astray, the altar’s white shroud moth-eaten and crumbling. Unceremoniously wiping her boots off on the flagstones, the traveller would set the lantern down atop the old stone and take a moment to shake the rain from her hat, looking about. “I know you’re here.” Her voice was clear and level, even as her lantern-light quivered at some unseen force.
The shadows closed in around the woman. She looked up, towards the leaden windows and saw as the moonlight shrank away, to a place more deserving of it. A slight scowl would spread across her face and she turned to one of the pews, taking a seat there and leaning forward on her knees. Reaching past her jacket, she would pull a simple symbol from beneath her shirt and let it dangle free, the carved wood displaying a shape similar to a Y, the arms of which had had holes drilled through for a string to serve as a necklace.
Still, there was no response from the presence in the church. Her scowl deepening, the woman pressed her hands together and licked her lips to brush away the dryness. She began to speak, lips forming the oft-spoken words easily. “On sn-”
”Faith has no power here. Not any longer.” The voice finally growled out, and the woman knew only she heard them.
“No, but you were so stubborn with ignoring me, I thought a small prod was in order.” The frown faded in an instant, the woman instead leaning back on her hard wooden seat, nonchalantly placing her hands over her stomach.
”Awful bold for you to come here alone.” The voice was almost mocking in its tone. Let it be; she held the cards here.
“I’d think you’d be happy for the company.” She felt her back stiffen as the pew’s hardness forced it to adjust; there never was a moment of comfort for the faithful. Just as she rose to stand, the edge of the wood biting into her muscle, the voice halted her.
”It is a… Change of pace.” The statement seemed to have been given almost reluctantly, and what had once been a frown on the woman’s face was now most certainly a smug sort of smirk. ”Although still a mistake for you.”
Once he had finished, the woman would nod with satisfaction to herself. It was in the main church; not speaking from some other area of the ruined building. This building held an ossuary in its bowels; where the last preacher had hidden his profane deeds. That meant there was an entrance to it. Rising to her feet, she took measured, even steps, every now and again pausing to tap her foot against the floor to check the sound.
Eventually, after perhaps a minute of quiet searching, she found what she desired. A fake flagstone with a cleverly concealed metal ring. Once again her fingers dove into her pocket, pulling out that shimmering powder and slowly dragging another circle out around it. She could feel the presence strong over her shoulders now, as if peering down to look at what she was doing. Then, she lifted the ‘flagstone’ up with a low, dull groan, dust falling into the vacuum of light that had appeared below. Carefully now, making sure not to disturb her previous work, she would let the trapdoor rest, returning to where her lantern sat on the altar. Lifting it up, disregarding the presence in the room, she sank down, the only comfort to her the lamplight as the cold and damp pressed in around her.
It was hard to feel comfortable when dead men watched you. Every alcove; every cubby, every nook and cranny had another set of skulls, and they all seemed to be staring at her. How many generations of villagers had long since settled into the Comforting Embrace? How many hadn’t settled?
Once her head had fallen below the church, the presence vanished, replaced instead by the rank stench of decay. This was not the smell that brought carrion to feast, no; this was the scent of the last few fragments of flesh finally succumbing to the flies. She turned to look at the stairs she had descended and could only shudder when she realised that the space underneath was filled with limb-bones, lined up like so many bleached-uniform soldiers. Another step, and another, her nose carrying her forward.
Then the whispers started. They brushed past her mind like cobwebs, and past her periphery vision like the first wisps of smoke from a campfire. Five? Eight? They were moving too quickly, their surprise at a mortal too much for her to draw a bead on their numbers. Not that it mattered for their bodies would tell her that. The scent drew closer, the whispers more insistent. How long had the preacher cursed them to this existence? Every footfall echoed with her frustration; at the fact that she and her comrades had failed to do anything for these people.
Finally, she reached them. Among the neatly ordered bones, the disarray stood out almost as much as the colour. They were yellowed and covered in a film of muck; viscous and brown. “The Embrace will come.” She said the words with a distinct finality, drawing a phial of clear liquid out of her coat with a soft clink. Uncorking it, she let the unction pour out, nose crinkling at the sensation of the perfumes struggle to overpower the decay.
The true power of this was not in the smell, of course, but in the symbolism. What they had not been given in life, she would provide in death. Each of the skulls received a small amount of the liquid, spilling down their crowns and in rivulets running through their empty eye sockets and noses. She held her lantern up high, opened the glass shutters, and closed her eyes, hearing the whispers pull together, and just as the flies had flitted towards their bodies, so too did they go towards the flame. Then, with a gloved hand, she would reach for each of the skulls in turn, placing them in a neat line one after the other, brushing fingers past where eyelids had once been.
With liquid still dripping from her hand she turned towards the stairway once more. Her lantern’s light was blue-white in its intensity, burning with a radiance that surpassed the natural. Her feet carried her naturally away from their final resting place and up, towards where her business would be concluded.
She emerged into the church again, and turned towards one of the great wooden beams that held the house of worship together. Wiping her hand off against it, she would wait for the voice to return.
”Did you find them? The works of this village? The works done in my name?”
“You denied them the Comforting Embrace.” She said it in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “So now I shall grant them freedom.” She closed the trapdoor carefully, and gave one last check to the warding circle around it. Still intact. “And I shall return you to your rightful place.” One more phial would be drawn out with her spare hand, each of the wooden beams receiving a small daub of the oily liquid.
“What you have done here will become a memory, and when I pass to the Embrace, they will trouble this world no more. Throw your form against my mind; mayhaps it’ll raise my spirits now.” There was the sound of a chain rattling as the woman drew out a far grander symbol than the one that sat around her neck. Burnished silver, beaming in the spirit-light, it rang out a clear message in this desecrated house. Step by step, the symbol jingling with each one, the woman let her lantern-flame grace each of the daubed marks on the pillars, the glowing flames leaping outwards with unusual hunger.
”You dare?!| The voice held none of the confidence it had before- now it practically screeched at her. She ignored it; it deserved none of her time. She would lift the symbol up higher, swaying it gently from side to side as she strode towards the next pillar.
”You desecrate holy ground!” The voice had damned itself with its lies. There was no holiness in this place- elsewise the presence would not be here. The first pillar’s flames had already begun to devour it, so hungry were the flames.
“You cannot escape.” Was all she would say to it as she continued. “The door is warded. The ossuary is warded, so you cannot disturb the dead further. The stones will bury you, the flames will consume you, and their fuel will escape beyond your reach.” The fangs of fire began to bite at another pillar, the old, dry wood burning without much smoke.
The voice continued to screech, wretched thing that it was, but she disregarded it. What more needed to be said? What more needed to be heard? Nothing; nothing at all. Let the fire do the rest of the talking for her. Each of the vast wooden posts would stoke the righteous light and she strode across the building’s threshold confidently. Outside was a mounted host- men and women dressed similarly to her, illuminated by the flames rising up from the rest of the building’s houses.
Wordlessly, they watched as the supernatural light faded from her lantern. Past the wards, there was nothing to keep the souls away from their most deserved enjoyment of the Embrace and they would dart away, their last mission completed.
“On snow white streams the spirits fly, towards the veil beyond the sky. Take up with you our souls to keep, lay with them in Eternal Sleep. Preserve them well throughout the night, watch over them with blessed sight.”
The host would utter the prayer in respectful murmurs, and by the time the prayer had finished and the words had been washed away by the rain, the church was fully engulfed; a holy pyre to drive out the infernal rot that had grown into the roots of the building
Untying and mounting her steed, the woman would close the shutters carefully to preserve the now-natural flame. “We carry the faith,” the man next to her would say, the light reflected in his eyes even as he urged his horse to turn, the group trotting past the burning hamlet and beyond, to the next blighted grove.
“We carry the light that leaves no darkness behind.”
By @Lady Selune
Sighing, she twisted the reins about and tied them to a post by the church, making sure her mount was securely in place before turning her attention towards the building. Reaching into a pocket, she drew out a small handful of shimmering powder, using the water that had fallen onto the stone porch to make a gritty paste, then, slowly, dragging three fingers about the destroyed entrance. Her fingers ran across hard stone and rusted iron hinges, leaving a gleaming trail behind. Once it was complete she tossed the rest of the paste against the floor, brushing any remaining flecks off on her jacket.
Then, she stepped past it, into the desecrated house of worship. The pews were set astray, the altar’s white shroud moth-eaten and crumbling. Unceremoniously wiping her boots off on the flagstones, the traveller would set the lantern down atop the old stone and take a moment to shake the rain from her hat, looking about. “I know you’re here.” Her voice was clear and level, even as her lantern-light quivered at some unseen force.
The shadows closed in around the woman. She looked up, towards the leaden windows and saw as the moonlight shrank away, to a place more deserving of it. A slight scowl would spread across her face and she turned to one of the pews, taking a seat there and leaning forward on her knees. Reaching past her jacket, she would pull a simple symbol from beneath her shirt and let it dangle free, the carved wood displaying a shape similar to a Y, the arms of which had had holes drilled through for a string to serve as a necklace.
Still, there was no response from the presence in the church. Her scowl deepening, the woman pressed her hands together and licked her lips to brush away the dryness. She began to speak, lips forming the oft-spoken words easily. “On sn-”
”Faith has no power here. Not any longer.” The voice finally growled out, and the woman knew only she heard them.
“No, but you were so stubborn with ignoring me, I thought a small prod was in order.” The frown faded in an instant, the woman instead leaning back on her hard wooden seat, nonchalantly placing her hands over her stomach.
”Awful bold for you to come here alone.” The voice was almost mocking in its tone. Let it be; she held the cards here.
“I’d think you’d be happy for the company.” She felt her back stiffen as the pew’s hardness forced it to adjust; there never was a moment of comfort for the faithful. Just as she rose to stand, the edge of the wood biting into her muscle, the voice halted her.
”It is a… Change of pace.” The statement seemed to have been given almost reluctantly, and what had once been a frown on the woman’s face was now most certainly a smug sort of smirk. ”Although still a mistake for you.”
Once he had finished, the woman would nod with satisfaction to herself. It was in the main church; not speaking from some other area of the ruined building. This building held an ossuary in its bowels; where the last preacher had hidden his profane deeds. That meant there was an entrance to it. Rising to her feet, she took measured, even steps, every now and again pausing to tap her foot against the floor to check the sound.
Eventually, after perhaps a minute of quiet searching, she found what she desired. A fake flagstone with a cleverly concealed metal ring. Once again her fingers dove into her pocket, pulling out that shimmering powder and slowly dragging another circle out around it. She could feel the presence strong over her shoulders now, as if peering down to look at what she was doing. Then, she lifted the ‘flagstone’ up with a low, dull groan, dust falling into the vacuum of light that had appeared below. Carefully now, making sure not to disturb her previous work, she would let the trapdoor rest, returning to where her lantern sat on the altar. Lifting it up, disregarding the presence in the room, she sank down, the only comfort to her the lamplight as the cold and damp pressed in around her.
It was hard to feel comfortable when dead men watched you. Every alcove; every cubby, every nook and cranny had another set of skulls, and they all seemed to be staring at her. How many generations of villagers had long since settled into the Comforting Embrace? How many hadn’t settled?
Once her head had fallen below the church, the presence vanished, replaced instead by the rank stench of decay. This was not the smell that brought carrion to feast, no; this was the scent of the last few fragments of flesh finally succumbing to the flies. She turned to look at the stairs she had descended and could only shudder when she realised that the space underneath was filled with limb-bones, lined up like so many bleached-uniform soldiers. Another step, and another, her nose carrying her forward.
Then the whispers started. They brushed past her mind like cobwebs, and past her periphery vision like the first wisps of smoke from a campfire. Five? Eight? They were moving too quickly, their surprise at a mortal too much for her to draw a bead on their numbers. Not that it mattered for their bodies would tell her that. The scent drew closer, the whispers more insistent. How long had the preacher cursed them to this existence? Every footfall echoed with her frustration; at the fact that she and her comrades had failed to do anything for these people.
Finally, she reached them. Among the neatly ordered bones, the disarray stood out almost as much as the colour. They were yellowed and covered in a film of muck; viscous and brown. “The Embrace will come.” She said the words with a distinct finality, drawing a phial of clear liquid out of her coat with a soft clink. Uncorking it, she let the unction pour out, nose crinkling at the sensation of the perfumes struggle to overpower the decay.
The true power of this was not in the smell, of course, but in the symbolism. What they had not been given in life, she would provide in death. Each of the skulls received a small amount of the liquid, spilling down their crowns and in rivulets running through their empty eye sockets and noses. She held her lantern up high, opened the glass shutters, and closed her eyes, hearing the whispers pull together, and just as the flies had flitted towards their bodies, so too did they go towards the flame. Then, with a gloved hand, she would reach for each of the skulls in turn, placing them in a neat line one after the other, brushing fingers past where eyelids had once been.
With liquid still dripping from her hand she turned towards the stairway once more. Her lantern’s light was blue-white in its intensity, burning with a radiance that surpassed the natural. Her feet carried her naturally away from their final resting place and up, towards where her business would be concluded.
She emerged into the church again, and turned towards one of the great wooden beams that held the house of worship together. Wiping her hand off against it, she would wait for the voice to return.
”Did you find them? The works of this village? The works done in my name?”
“You denied them the Comforting Embrace.” She said it in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “So now I shall grant them freedom.” She closed the trapdoor carefully, and gave one last check to the warding circle around it. Still intact. “And I shall return you to your rightful place.” One more phial would be drawn out with her spare hand, each of the wooden beams receiving a small daub of the oily liquid.
“What you have done here will become a memory, and when I pass to the Embrace, they will trouble this world no more. Throw your form against my mind; mayhaps it’ll raise my spirits now.” There was the sound of a chain rattling as the woman drew out a far grander symbol than the one that sat around her neck. Burnished silver, beaming in the spirit-light, it rang out a clear message in this desecrated house. Step by step, the symbol jingling with each one, the woman let her lantern-flame grace each of the daubed marks on the pillars, the glowing flames leaping outwards with unusual hunger.
”You dare?!| The voice held none of the confidence it had before- now it practically screeched at her. She ignored it; it deserved none of her time. She would lift the symbol up higher, swaying it gently from side to side as she strode towards the next pillar.
”You desecrate holy ground!” The voice had damned itself with its lies. There was no holiness in this place- elsewise the presence would not be here. The first pillar’s flames had already begun to devour it, so hungry were the flames.
“You cannot escape.” Was all she would say to it as she continued. “The door is warded. The ossuary is warded, so you cannot disturb the dead further. The stones will bury you, the flames will consume you, and their fuel will escape beyond your reach.” The fangs of fire began to bite at another pillar, the old, dry wood burning without much smoke.
The voice continued to screech, wretched thing that it was, but she disregarded it. What more needed to be said? What more needed to be heard? Nothing; nothing at all. Let the fire do the rest of the talking for her. Each of the vast wooden posts would stoke the righteous light and she strode across the building’s threshold confidently. Outside was a mounted host- men and women dressed similarly to her, illuminated by the flames rising up from the rest of the building’s houses.
Wordlessly, they watched as the supernatural light faded from her lantern. Past the wards, there was nothing to keep the souls away from their most deserved enjoyment of the Embrace and they would dart away, their last mission completed.
“On snow white streams the spirits fly, towards the veil beyond the sky. Take up with you our souls to keep, lay with them in Eternal Sleep. Preserve them well throughout the night, watch over them with blessed sight.”
The host would utter the prayer in respectful murmurs, and by the time the prayer had finished and the words had been washed away by the rain, the church was fully engulfed; a holy pyre to drive out the infernal rot that had grown into the roots of the building
Untying and mounting her steed, the woman would close the shutters carefully to preserve the now-natural flame. “We carry the faith,” the man next to her would say, the light reflected in his eyes even as he urged his horse to turn, the group trotting past the burning hamlet and beyond, to the next blighted grove.
“We carry the light that leaves no darkness behind.”
By @Lady Selune
Rain was pouring down and most creatures in the forest had taken shelter. Three guys, however, had not. With rain ponchos over their bodies and flashlights in their hands they followed the mostly overgrown path.
“Guys, how much further is it to the cabin?” Ethan asked.
Mike checked the gps, trying to shelter it from the rain as well as he could. “Another hour at least. Then we have to hike two more hours tomorrow to reach the lake.”
Ethan grumbled something under his breath and the three of them pushed through until they reached a clearing, filled with houses. Plants grew around them abundantly and some of the houses were badly maintained or partly overgrown with vines. They shone their flashlight around to get a good idea of this village.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is here…” Ethan muttered.
“Is this that ghost town the old man warned us about?” Mike asked.
“Ghosts never ate anyone,” Benjamin commented.
“There could be vampires…”
“That’s why we have Ethan. And I don’t think they have much to feed on here, so there’s no reason for them to live here. Vampires like the more populated areas.”
A howl echoed through the forest.
“I’m not going to fight bloody wolves,” Ethan grumbled. “Vamps, sure, I got some things they don’t like, but I’m not equipped to handle teeth and claws. Especially if they’re oversized.”
Benjamin nodded. “Let’s hide in here then,” he said, gesturing to one of the houses.
They quickly entered the house; the door creaked, and so did every step they took on the wooden floor. But it was dry. Dark, but dry. They all removed the wet ponchos and Mike pulled a camping light from his backpack; he turned it on and looked around. The light revealed some walls with patches of flowery wallpaper. It looked old. This was probably the living room of the house. Wind howled through the creaks, creating a chilly draft in the house. But the other houses probably weren’t better off.
“Cards?” Ethan asked.
“We can’t do much else right now.” Mike agreed.
“Gin Rummy? Go Fish? Old Maid?”
“I’m up for some Old Maid. Ben?”
It was silent and both Mike and Ethan looked in his direction. They saw him staring at the wall.
“You okay there, Ben?” Ethan asked
“Hm? Yeah, thought I saw something. Old Maid then?”
The three of them sat around the light, but Benjamin was often distracted and looked at the wall. Frowning at first, but now there was a hint of sadness on his face and he sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked
“Are you seeing things again?” Ethan asked.
Benjamin looked from Mike to Ethan and back to Mike. “There’s nothing wrong and I do see something. A woman. She’s going in circles through this house. She comes through the wall there, moves across the room and disappears through that closed door.”
Both Mike and Ethan looked, but they couldn’t see anything.
“Is this one dangerous, you think?”
“Nighty-nine percent isn’t,” Benjamin stated. “She looks like a wandering spirit; maybe she doesn’t even realise we’re here.”
“What is a wandering spirit?” Mike asked.
Benjamin didn’t reply immediately as he looked at his cards. “The saddest thing, really. Normally spirits move on. Someone dies, the spirit rises and disappears.”
“Have you seen that happen?” Mike asked as he put his cards down; it didn’t seem like they would continue their game at the moment.
“Once yes,” Benjamin said, also putting his cards down. “I saw someone get hit by a car; I saw him drop to the ground and a moment later his spirit stood up. He looked at his body and then faded. People were shouting ‘call an ambulance’ and I told them it was no use, but they called me pessimistic. I left before the ambulance showed up.”
The other two nodded and Ethan dug in his backpack to get something to eat for everyone and handed out some sandwiches they had made earlier that day. After that he handed some bottles with water.
“Sometimes they don’t leave immediately,” Benjamin continued. “They linger, for whatever reason. Unfinished business, not wanting to leave someone behind, maybe their death was so sudden they hadn’t even realised they had died.” He flashed a small. “You know, when I was a kid we had an elderly couple living next door from us. One afternoon the man died in the hospital and his wife came to tell us. The next morning I went to school and I saw him standing in his front yard. He said he had decided to wait for his wife. He waited for almost a year, and I chatted every day with him. He came to say goodbye before going to where-ever spirits go to, and he went with his wife.” He looked at the ghostly woman, who walked the same route again. “Some linger so long they forget why they lingered and all that is left for them is wandering around aimlessly. They are the ones that go up and down the same stairs over and over again, or…” he gestured to the room, “go in circles all day long, year in, year out. They don’t notice the world anymore; they just exist and it’s sad.”
“Do you think we should investigate this village?” Mike asked. “Ben saw proof of paranormal activity here and that man had mentioned a few rumours…”
“Let’s go to the lake first,” Ethan said. “That’s where people died and that’s why the agency sent us there. To investigate and maybe solve the problem. We can have a look here on our way back, but this village isn’t even on the map and if there had been any confirmed deaths, that old man would have said something.”
Benjamin nodded as he picked up his cards. “This isn’t a priority, but I do want to come back here and map this village for the agency. We are paranormal investigators after all.” He looked up and let out a surprised yell as he recoiled. Ethan jumped up and Mike looked around to see what was going on.
“You startled me,” Benjamin said, putting a hand on his chest. The woman who had been going in circles stood just a few feet away from them, staring at them. Her long, messy hair framed her translucent face and she had her mouth partly open as if she was continuously surprised, but her eyes had a distant and lifeless look. “It’s raining outside and we were looking for shelter,” he continued.
The ghostly woman didn’t respond; she just stared at them.
“What’s up?” Ethan whispered.
“I don’t know… she changed her behaviour and I didn’t expect that. She may be more aware of her surroundings than I had thought.” Benjamin walked to the right, and the woman turned her head to follow him. “And she’s fixating on me now.”
“Do we leave?”
“Like I said, nighty-nine percent of ghosts aren’t dangerous. Something that moves through a wall moves through flesh and bones. She can’t physically harm us.” He paused. “Unless she’s telekinetic, but that is really rare.”
“Hey, you’re the ghost-expert. What do we do?”
“Back when I was a ghost hunter our team would investigate ghost sightings. Most of them were not ghosts, but when there were ghosts we tried to communicate with them and help them move on.”
“Anything we can do?” Mike asked.
“Just stay calm; most people that die from an encounter with a ghost die because they fled in terror and didn’t look where they were going or were startled by a sudden appearance when they were driving or standing on top of stairs. But don’t let her possess you.”
“And how can we protect ourselves from possessing us?”
Benjamin glanced at Mike, before looking back at the woman in front of them. “She can’t possess you if you refuse her. If she makes contact she can ask, plea or demand access, but all you have to do is say no. That’s why it’s easier for children to be possessed; they don’t see the danger and are more likely to believe a sad story followed by a plea for help, or an invitation to play a fun game.”
They all fell silent as Benjamin and the female ghost stared at each other.
It was cold in the room; colder than it had been before. Even Mike and Ethan could hear something that resembled breathing. They glanced at Benjamin, who stood with his hands on his sides and looked ahead.
“God, I’m glad I’m not a ghost hunter,” Ethan exclaimed. “At least vampire hunters get action. This is boring.”
“I’m having a hard time figuring out what she wants,” Benjamin admitted as he looked at Ethan. “She’s just standing there.”
“Whatever, I’m going to snack. We brought some cookies, right?”
Benjamin smiled and shook his head, then he turned his attention back on the woman in front of him. “Do you have a name?” he asked her. “Why are you here?”
The ghost jolted forward and instinctively Benjamin backed away; she hovered right in front of his face now. “What do you want from me?” he asked her. “Do you want us to leave? There are other buildings we can stay.”
Stay she echoed.
Mike looked up. “I heard that…” he said. “I think.”
“Ghosts use a form of telepathy,” Benjamin explained, “you heard her, but not in the traditional way.”
Son…
Benjamin frowned. “Are you looking for your son, or do you think I’m your son?”
Son…
“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure your son is dead…”
A shrieking sound filled the room as the ghost floated back across the room in a high speed.
Ethan covered his ears. “Well, shit, Ben. I’m blunt and even I know you don’t tell a mother her son is dead like that.”
“In my experience, being blunt gets through.” He turned to the others. “Do we stay here for shelter, or go to another place.”
“Didn’t that guy say something about unholy laughter in the church?” Ethan asked. “That will just keep me up.”
“And wasn’t there a cannibal somewhere in the one of the other houses?” Mike added. “She can’t harm us, right?”
“Some ghosts can enter dreams and that is unpleasant, but that’s only harmful if they manage to make you sleepwalk into an unsafe situation.” Benjamin thought about it for a moment as he looked at Mike. “But you know how to make a protective circle to shield us against evil, right?”
Mike nodded. “It should keep us safe from evil spirits. I’ll make one.” He took some chalk from his backpack and drew a circle on the floor, large enough for the three of them, and drew runes on the inside of the line. With that done, the three of them rolled out sleeping bags and soon fell asleep, with the rhythmic drops of rain on the wooden roof as a soothing background noise.
Somewhere during the night, Benjamin turned in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes. The face of the woman hung close to his own, just outside the circle. “Whoa!” he exclaimed as he rolled against Ethan. “Jesus!” he exclaimed as she rolled against Ethan.
“Dude,” Ethan whispered. “What the hell… what happened to make you religious all of the sudden?”
“Sorry. She’s staring at me.” He lay down again, with his back to her and he shut his eyes, but he knew she was still there. He could feel her eyes poking at his back. He turned on his back, peeked at the edge of the circle, groaned, turned on his side again.
“Can’t sleep?” Ethan whispered.
“Nope, not with her standing there.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of ghosts.”
“I’m not. But I feel her staring at me and it’s really uncomfortable.”
“Right.” Ethan checked the time on his cellphone and then poked Mike. “Hey, wake up.”
“Hmmm,” Mike muttered.
“Listen, Ben’s new girlfriend is staring at him so he won’t be sleeping anymore. It won’t be long before it’s light enough to travel and it stopped raining, so we might as well pack our bags and get moving.”
Mike yawned and rubbed his face. “Yeah, okay.” He sat up and yawned again. “Why is she so obsessed with you, Ben?”
“I wish I knew,” Benjamin said as he rolled up his sleeping bag.
Ethan also rolled up his. “She said son. Maybe you look like her son?”
“Possible, but not necessarily. I’m probably the first one to acknowledge her and talk with her in a while. She might not remember what her son looks like and projected him on me. Or she does remember and I really do look like him. We can’t say.”
“Can you help her?” Mike asked.
Benjamin didn’t reply immediately as he packed his backpack. “I’d like to, but I have to do research first. Figure out who she was, how she died, who her son was. It’s really hard to help someone move on if you don’t know what kept them here.”
They ate some breakfast with the ghost standing in front of Benjamin and they when sky in the east turned orange.
The path had turned into mud, littered with small and big puddles, and brown leaves that had fallen from the surrounding trees. Ethan cursed at the condition of the path they had to walk over and cursed some more at the people who thought it was a good idea to go to a lake in the middle of nowhere and die there. Couldn’t they have picked a more accessible lake to do that?
After a few steps, Benjamin looked back at the house and saw the woman behind the window; she was probably bound to the house and couldn’t leave it. He promised himself he would come back here and help her move on.
“Guys, how much further is it to the cabin?” Ethan asked.
Mike checked the gps, trying to shelter it from the rain as well as he could. “Another hour at least. Then we have to hike two more hours tomorrow to reach the lake.”
Ethan grumbled something under his breath and the three of them pushed through until they reached a clearing, filled with houses. Plants grew around them abundantly and some of the houses were badly maintained or partly overgrown with vines. They shone their flashlight around to get a good idea of this village.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is here…” Ethan muttered.
“Is this that ghost town the old man warned us about?” Mike asked.
“Ghosts never ate anyone,” Benjamin commented.
“There could be vampires…”
“That’s why we have Ethan. And I don’t think they have much to feed on here, so there’s no reason for them to live here. Vampires like the more populated areas.”
A howl echoed through the forest.
“I’m not going to fight bloody wolves,” Ethan grumbled. “Vamps, sure, I got some things they don’t like, but I’m not equipped to handle teeth and claws. Especially if they’re oversized.”
Benjamin nodded. “Let’s hide in here then,” he said, gesturing to one of the houses.
They quickly entered the house; the door creaked, and so did every step they took on the wooden floor. But it was dry. Dark, but dry. They all removed the wet ponchos and Mike pulled a camping light from his backpack; he turned it on and looked around. The light revealed some walls with patches of flowery wallpaper. It looked old. This was probably the living room of the house. Wind howled through the creaks, creating a chilly draft in the house. But the other houses probably weren’t better off.
“Cards?” Ethan asked.
“We can’t do much else right now.” Mike agreed.
“Gin Rummy? Go Fish? Old Maid?”
“I’m up for some Old Maid. Ben?”
It was silent and both Mike and Ethan looked in his direction. They saw him staring at the wall.
“You okay there, Ben?” Ethan asked
“Hm? Yeah, thought I saw something. Old Maid then?”
The three of them sat around the light, but Benjamin was often distracted and looked at the wall. Frowning at first, but now there was a hint of sadness on his face and he sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked
“Are you seeing things again?” Ethan asked.
Benjamin looked from Mike to Ethan and back to Mike. “There’s nothing wrong and I do see something. A woman. She’s going in circles through this house. She comes through the wall there, moves across the room and disappears through that closed door.”
Both Mike and Ethan looked, but they couldn’t see anything.
“Is this one dangerous, you think?”
“Nighty-nine percent isn’t,” Benjamin stated. “She looks like a wandering spirit; maybe she doesn’t even realise we’re here.”
“What is a wandering spirit?” Mike asked.
Benjamin didn’t reply immediately as he looked at his cards. “The saddest thing, really. Normally spirits move on. Someone dies, the spirit rises and disappears.”
“Have you seen that happen?” Mike asked as he put his cards down; it didn’t seem like they would continue their game at the moment.
“Once yes,” Benjamin said, also putting his cards down. “I saw someone get hit by a car; I saw him drop to the ground and a moment later his spirit stood up. He looked at his body and then faded. People were shouting ‘call an ambulance’ and I told them it was no use, but they called me pessimistic. I left before the ambulance showed up.”
The other two nodded and Ethan dug in his backpack to get something to eat for everyone and handed out some sandwiches they had made earlier that day. After that he handed some bottles with water.
“Sometimes they don’t leave immediately,” Benjamin continued. “They linger, for whatever reason. Unfinished business, not wanting to leave someone behind, maybe their death was so sudden they hadn’t even realised they had died.” He flashed a small. “You know, when I was a kid we had an elderly couple living next door from us. One afternoon the man died in the hospital and his wife came to tell us. The next morning I went to school and I saw him standing in his front yard. He said he had decided to wait for his wife. He waited for almost a year, and I chatted every day with him. He came to say goodbye before going to where-ever spirits go to, and he went with his wife.” He looked at the ghostly woman, who walked the same route again. “Some linger so long they forget why they lingered and all that is left for them is wandering around aimlessly. They are the ones that go up and down the same stairs over and over again, or…” he gestured to the room, “go in circles all day long, year in, year out. They don’t notice the world anymore; they just exist and it’s sad.”
“Do you think we should investigate this village?” Mike asked. “Ben saw proof of paranormal activity here and that man had mentioned a few rumours…”
“Let’s go to the lake first,” Ethan said. “That’s where people died and that’s why the agency sent us there. To investigate and maybe solve the problem. We can have a look here on our way back, but this village isn’t even on the map and if there had been any confirmed deaths, that old man would have said something.”
Benjamin nodded as he picked up his cards. “This isn’t a priority, but I do want to come back here and map this village for the agency. We are paranormal investigators after all.” He looked up and let out a surprised yell as he recoiled. Ethan jumped up and Mike looked around to see what was going on.
“You startled me,” Benjamin said, putting a hand on his chest. The woman who had been going in circles stood just a few feet away from them, staring at them. Her long, messy hair framed her translucent face and she had her mouth partly open as if she was continuously surprised, but her eyes had a distant and lifeless look. “It’s raining outside and we were looking for shelter,” he continued.
The ghostly woman didn’t respond; she just stared at them.
“What’s up?” Ethan whispered.
“I don’t know… she changed her behaviour and I didn’t expect that. She may be more aware of her surroundings than I had thought.” Benjamin walked to the right, and the woman turned her head to follow him. “And she’s fixating on me now.”
“Do we leave?”
“Like I said, nighty-nine percent of ghosts aren’t dangerous. Something that moves through a wall moves through flesh and bones. She can’t physically harm us.” He paused. “Unless she’s telekinetic, but that is really rare.”
“Hey, you’re the ghost-expert. What do we do?”
“Back when I was a ghost hunter our team would investigate ghost sightings. Most of them were not ghosts, but when there were ghosts we tried to communicate with them and help them move on.”
“Anything we can do?” Mike asked.
“Just stay calm; most people that die from an encounter with a ghost die because they fled in terror and didn’t look where they were going or were startled by a sudden appearance when they were driving or standing on top of stairs. But don’t let her possess you.”
“And how can we protect ourselves from possessing us?”
Benjamin glanced at Mike, before looking back at the woman in front of them. “She can’t possess you if you refuse her. If she makes contact she can ask, plea or demand access, but all you have to do is say no. That’s why it’s easier for children to be possessed; they don’t see the danger and are more likely to believe a sad story followed by a plea for help, or an invitation to play a fun game.”
They all fell silent as Benjamin and the female ghost stared at each other.
It was cold in the room; colder than it had been before. Even Mike and Ethan could hear something that resembled breathing. They glanced at Benjamin, who stood with his hands on his sides and looked ahead.
“God, I’m glad I’m not a ghost hunter,” Ethan exclaimed. “At least vampire hunters get action. This is boring.”
“I’m having a hard time figuring out what she wants,” Benjamin admitted as he looked at Ethan. “She’s just standing there.”
“Whatever, I’m going to snack. We brought some cookies, right?”
Benjamin smiled and shook his head, then he turned his attention back on the woman in front of him. “Do you have a name?” he asked her. “Why are you here?”
The ghost jolted forward and instinctively Benjamin backed away; she hovered right in front of his face now. “What do you want from me?” he asked her. “Do you want us to leave? There are other buildings we can stay.”
Stay she echoed.
Mike looked up. “I heard that…” he said. “I think.”
“Ghosts use a form of telepathy,” Benjamin explained, “you heard her, but not in the traditional way.”
Son…
Benjamin frowned. “Are you looking for your son, or do you think I’m your son?”
Son…
“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure your son is dead…”
A shrieking sound filled the room as the ghost floated back across the room in a high speed.
Ethan covered his ears. “Well, shit, Ben. I’m blunt and even I know you don’t tell a mother her son is dead like that.”
“In my experience, being blunt gets through.” He turned to the others. “Do we stay here for shelter, or go to another place.”
“Didn’t that guy say something about unholy laughter in the church?” Ethan asked. “That will just keep me up.”
“And wasn’t there a cannibal somewhere in the one of the other houses?” Mike added. “She can’t harm us, right?”
“Some ghosts can enter dreams and that is unpleasant, but that’s only harmful if they manage to make you sleepwalk into an unsafe situation.” Benjamin thought about it for a moment as he looked at Mike. “But you know how to make a protective circle to shield us against evil, right?”
Mike nodded. “It should keep us safe from evil spirits. I’ll make one.” He took some chalk from his backpack and drew a circle on the floor, large enough for the three of them, and drew runes on the inside of the line. With that done, the three of them rolled out sleeping bags and soon fell asleep, with the rhythmic drops of rain on the wooden roof as a soothing background noise.
Somewhere during the night, Benjamin turned in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes. The face of the woman hung close to his own, just outside the circle. “Whoa!” he exclaimed as he rolled against Ethan. “Jesus!” he exclaimed as she rolled against Ethan.
“Dude,” Ethan whispered. “What the hell… what happened to make you religious all of the sudden?”
“Sorry. She’s staring at me.” He lay down again, with his back to her and he shut his eyes, but he knew she was still there. He could feel her eyes poking at his back. He turned on his back, peeked at the edge of the circle, groaned, turned on his side again.
“Can’t sleep?” Ethan whispered.
“Nope, not with her standing there.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of ghosts.”
“I’m not. But I feel her staring at me and it’s really uncomfortable.”
“Right.” Ethan checked the time on his cellphone and then poked Mike. “Hey, wake up.”
“Hmmm,” Mike muttered.
“Listen, Ben’s new girlfriend is staring at him so he won’t be sleeping anymore. It won’t be long before it’s light enough to travel and it stopped raining, so we might as well pack our bags and get moving.”
Mike yawned and rubbed his face. “Yeah, okay.” He sat up and yawned again. “Why is she so obsessed with you, Ben?”
“I wish I knew,” Benjamin said as he rolled up his sleeping bag.
Ethan also rolled up his. “She said son. Maybe you look like her son?”
“Possible, but not necessarily. I’m probably the first one to acknowledge her and talk with her in a while. She might not remember what her son looks like and projected him on me. Or she does remember and I really do look like him. We can’t say.”
“Can you help her?” Mike asked.
Benjamin didn’t reply immediately as he packed his backpack. “I’d like to, but I have to do research first. Figure out who she was, how she died, who her son was. It’s really hard to help someone move on if you don’t know what kept them here.”
They ate some breakfast with the ghost standing in front of Benjamin and they when sky in the east turned orange.
The path had turned into mud, littered with small and big puddles, and brown leaves that had fallen from the surrounding trees. Ethan cursed at the condition of the path they had to walk over and cursed some more at the people who thought it was a good idea to go to a lake in the middle of nowhere and die there. Couldn’t they have picked a more accessible lake to do that?
After a few steps, Benjamin looked back at the house and saw the woman behind the window; she was probably bound to the house and couldn’t leave it. He promised himself he would come back here and help her move on.