Hey friends, new fic! I came across the show Ghosts this year and I really love it, so I had an idea.
Summary:
Isaac turned to Sam, “But, you’re saying that we could have at least a semi-return to life?” His curiosity turned to excitement, “You can give all of us a semi?!” "Maybe we can find a, um, different descriptor from that?"
What happens when Sam finds a ritual on the internet that could potentially partially resurrect our favorite post-living housemates? Will it even work?
Cross posted to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56327503/chapters/143111143
The crisp chill of autumn had settled over Woodstone Manor and the promise of Halloween grew with the orange and red carpet of fallen leaves that spread across the vast grounds of the estate. Sam sat by the library window scrolling on her phone, hoping that some time away from the laptop screen would help bust through her writer’s block. That afternoon saw the ghosts attending to their various hobbies, leaving Sam a rare moment of silence.
“Hey Jay, listen to this:” She called out and thumbed back to the top of the page, “that website I got the séance instructions from, it looks like they have some sort of ritual they’re claiming can give a ghost its body back!”
“You’re kidding. That would be so cool!” Jay rushed in, beaming. “I could finally get to hang out for real with my man Pete; shoot some hoops, play some D n’ D.” He peered over Sam’s shoulder at the phone browser. “I could teach the ghosts how to play x-box!” he said. “Do we need physical items that belonged to the ghosts or that they had with them when they died or anything?”
“Nope. It looks like we just need whoever’s getting their body back to be a part of the circle. And y’know the candles and incense and stuff it lists here.” Sam showed him said list and crossed to the library door. “Guys come in here, I found something really exciting!”
The eight ghost friends gathered quickly, each echoing their own variation of “what is it?”
Sam repeated the discovery, finishing with, “And so the day before Halloween, we can do this ritual and you guys would get 3 whole days to be corporeal again.”
“Jiminy! That sounds almost too good to be true.” Pete ran a hand through his hair, mouth still agape.
“Pete’s right,” Alberta nodded. “There’s gotta be a catch. One thing I learned working in showbiz is you don’t ever get something for nothing.” She put her hands on her hips.
“And what I learned working in the stock market,” Trevor cut in, “is ‘no risk, no reward.’” He turned to the rest of the group. “Guys, we could be alive again!”
“Well, sorta.” Sam hated to burst the bubble.
“I knew it.” Alberta declared. Bending the rules of the universe couldn’t be as easy as all that.
“It looks like there are some restrictions,” Sam continued, looking at each of her friends. “You still can’t leave the property, for one. And like I said, it lasts 3 days and that’s it. Probably some other stuff, too. The person who wrote this says they didn't want to test the limits."
Hetty sunk down onto the sofa. “So then, how do we know that this will work?”
“Well, the séance the other year did bring back Molly,” offered Sasappis as he took the seat next to her. “So, at least one of their things works.”
“Thor like the idea. Even if only for short time. It will be good to eat cod again.”
Jay made a mental note to stop by the fishmonger tomorrow.
“How does this website holder person even know how to go about all these ghost things?” Hetty asked. The efficacy of the séance seemed more a fluke to her, dumb luck for some internet conman.
“Maybe there’s someone like me out there who’s had more time to get used to their powers and learn about all the ghost lore.” Sam hoped there really was at least one other person out there who knew what it was like.
“It sounds like a win-win situation to me” Flower perched herself on the arm of the couch. “If it does work, we get to be kinda-sorta human again for a little bit. And I can finally pet that butterfly!”
“Flower, I don’t think that’s what a win-win situation is.” Albert said, placing her hand on the other ghost’s shoulder. “It’s more like just a single win. And besides, there will still be living things we can’t do.”
Isaac turned to Sam, “But, you’re saying that we could have at least a semi-return to life?” His curiosity melted to excitement, “You can give all of us a semi?”
Trevor hissed a stifled laugh and turned away.
“Well…” Sam searched for a diplomatic way to address the new ghost term, “maybe we can find a, um, different descriptor than that.” She trailed off.
“Ooohhh! We could call them quasimorts like in The Chronicles of Riddick!” Jay interjected, proud of how his powers of inference had grown over the years of ghostly shenanigans.
“Eugh,” Isaac made a face, “’ half dead’ just sounds wrong.”
Sam looked blankly at her husband.
“Oh right, you fell asleep through that movie.” Jay shrugged. “Never mind.”
Sam returned her attention to the invisible group. “Obviously, none of you have to do this if you don’t want to. Like Hetty said, it may not even work, but if there’s a chance—”
“I’m in, Sam.” Sass stood.
“Yes, if we cannot be sucked off, at least we all can get a semi.” Hetty added.
The other ghosts nodded and voiced their agreement. If nothing else, it was something to do for a few hours in eternity.
The items for the ritual had been easy to source over the next few days thanks to the miracles of Deal Mart and Amazon Prime. Incense and tealights burned, the faint orange glow was the only light source across the whole manor. It reflected off the smoke that trailed around the room, carrying the light in an almost supernatural way. Sam and Jay had placed one of each just in front of where each ghost now stood in the circle and took care to cover any mirrors in the room just as the anonymous internet medium had instructed. In the center sat a pile of seemingly random junk, from candied orange peels to a VHS of the movie Ghost.
“Alexa,” Sam activated the device, “How long until moon rise?”
It dinged in recognition of the question, “The moon will rise at 8:42 pm.”
“Thank you, Alexa.” Sam replied and she rolled her shoulders for at least the fifth time in the past 15 minutes.
Jay raised an eyebrow, glancing at his wife.
“What?”
“Trying to appease our future robot overlords?” Jay joked. He knew how anxious Sam was for this to actually work.
She smiled and the tension in her shoulders dropped. Somehow Jay always knew what she needed in the moment. He really was the best husband she could ever ask for, even if he did polish off the brand-new party-sized bag of chips she’d just bought that morning.
“Now, we all join hands.” Sam took Jay’s hand and held out her other for Flower to hold to the best of her ability. “Repeat after me: “Spirts, spirts, welcome in.” The voices of her friends echoed around her. “May you be restored as the veil grows thin. May your bones and flesh return during this Halloween sojourn." She squeezed her eyes closed. Please, please let this work, she thought.
The ground rumbled as a gust whooshed through the room extinguishing all the candles and incense leaving them all bathed in darkness.
“So,” Flower dropped Sam’s hand, “Did it work?”
“Who said that?” Jay looked around hoping for some bit of moonlight peeking through a window, “Sam?”. There was no way.
“Jay, that was Flower!” Sam could’ve cried. “If Jay heard Flower, that means—"
Sam sprinted over to the light switch and gasped as her friends were illuminated. Something had changed about them. Even though she, obviously, could see them, the ghosts all seemed somehow more solid, now.
“Oh my God! It actually worked! Sam, I can see them too!” Joy lit Jay’s face as he ran over to hug Pete.
Trevor was doubled over, hands on his knees. “Holy shit. I feel like I just sprinted a mile.” Trevor choked out.
Sam’s eyes widened. She surveyed the other ghosts quickly. Most of them seemed fine, but others…
“Oh! Oh no!" Sam grabbed a small canister from her purse. "Here, Trevor, use my inhaler.” She shook it and handed it to the still pants-less, well he wasn’t really technically a ghost anymore. Who would’ve guessed that her asthma would ever come in handy?
Isaac rushed to the water closet behind the check-in desk.
“Make sure you wash your hands,” Sass called after him.
Jay added some Pepto-Bismol and Gatorade to his mental shopping list, too. “I guess you guys can still be effected by your cause of death.”
Alberta slumped onto the couch, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”
Hetty and Isaac took places on either side of her to at least try tend to their friend.
“It looks like the stuff that killed us just got, I dunno, dialed back, or something.” Flower touched her shoulder where the gashes from her bear attack still shimmered red but didn’t gush like they should’ve.
Sam didn’t think she’d ever seen Flower look this clear-eyed, even in her moments of lucidity.
“Huh. It looks like those of us who died from external forces aren’t that effected.” Pete rubbed each side of his neck, only feeling small wounds on either side, “Guess that’s good for you, Big Guy.” He patted Thorfinn’s shoulder.
“Yes. Thor very glad to not be hit by lightning again.” He crossed to a slightly askew painting hanging on the opposite wall and straightened it. “Been bothering me for years.” He explained “This is great! We should do every Halloween.”
“I think that’s a no-go, buddy. Full moons only happen on Halloween once every 20-ish years, or there about.” Pete gazed thoughtfully up at the aforementioned celestial body now peaking through the window, just above the tree line.
“Hey,” Trevor’s gasping for air had thankfully slowed to almost normal breathing, “Y’know, that inhaler thing could count as an indirect kiss.” Trevor offered a weak smile.
“Trevor!” Sam objected.
“Joking. Joking.” He put up his hands in mock surrender.
“Man, what did you even take that would do that to you?” Jay crossed to them.
“Hell, if I know. That was supposed to be the fun part.”
“Well, how ‘bout we get you some pants, No-Pants.” Jay clapped a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “You look like you’re about my size.”
“Really?” Trevor was touched by the offer. “Thanks, man.” Jay may have been a nerd, but at least he was a cool nerd.
“I’ll even throw in some clean boxers.”
“You, Jay, are truly a bro.”
Isaac wandered in from his bathroom prison. "Could I trouble any of you for some water?"
"I've got ya, buddy." Pete dipped into the kitchen. His eyes welled as he appreciated the grain of the cabinet door against his fingers, the smoothness of the glass and its coolness as it filled with water. Touch was such an underrated sense. "Here you go." He handed to glass to Isaac, wiping away the tears that had threatened underneath his glasses.
"Thank you." Isaac downed the glass in nearly one gulp. The first thing he was able to ingest in centuries and water had never tasted so good. "Oh, Samantha, the water is very good here. You can't even taste any dirt," He declared.
"Water filtration is a great invention." Sass commented.
Hetty bustled over to Sam, satisfied that Alberta had regained some strength. “Samantha, if Trevor is getting to remedy his, shall we say, under-dressed state, may I too trouble you to borrow some less restrictive clothing?" She lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning close to Sam, "I have been in this corset for the past hundred and thirty years. You've talked about removing your brassiere after a long day. Can you possibly imagine keeping one on for over a century?”
“Hetty? Are you saying you want to free the nipple?” Flower was amused and astonished.
“Oh heavens, no!” Disgust dripped from her voice at the very notion. I thought Samantha would have some sort of longer frock.” Hetty tried to illustrate a swooshing skirt with her hand. Though, she had to admit she hadn't considered how that undergarment situation would work.
Sam looked up at Hetty, as it finally hit her: at least for 3 days she had all her best friends with her, in the flesh. Sam enveloped her great-great-great-grand aunt in the tightest hug she could muster. “You can borrow any clothes you want. All of you.”
And for the first time in 130 years, Henrietta Woodstone was able to put her arms around a member of her family and return that gesture. The rest of the room joined, some voicing their thanks to Sam, others letting the hug do the talking.
Hey friends, new fic! I came across the show Ghosts this year and I really love it, so I had an idea.
Summary:
Isaac turned to Sam, “But, you’re saying that we could have at least a semi-return to life?” His curiosity turned to excitement, “You can give all of us a semi?!” "Maybe we can find a, um, different descriptor from that?"
What happens when Sam finds a ritual on the internet that could potentially partially resurrect our favorite post-living housemates? Will it even work?
Cross posted to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56327503/chapters/143111143
The crisp chill of autumn had settled over Woodstone Manor and the promise of Halloween grew with the orange and red carpet of fallen leaves that spread across the vast grounds of the estate. Sam sat by the library window scrolling on her phone, hoping that some time away from the laptop screen would help bust through her writer’s block. That afternoon saw the ghosts attending to their various hobbies, leaving Sam a rare moment of silence.
“Hey Jay, listen to this:” She called out and thumbed back to the top of the page, “that website I got the séance instructions from, it looks like they have some sort of ritual they’re claiming can give a ghost its body back!”
“You’re kidding. That would be so cool!” Jay rushed in, beaming. “I could finally get to hang out for real with my man Pete; shoot some hoops, play some D n’ D.” He peered over Sam’s shoulder at the phone browser. “I could teach the ghosts how to play x-box!” he said. “Do we need physical items that belonged to the ghosts or that they had with them when they died or anything?”
“Nope. It looks like we just need whoever’s getting their body back to be a part of the circle. And y’know the candles and incense and stuff it lists here.” Sam showed him said list and crossed to the library door. “Guys come in here, I found something really exciting!”
The eight ghost friends gathered quickly, each echoing their own variation of “what is it?”
Sam repeated the discovery, finishing with, “And so the day before Halloween, we can do this ritual and you guys would get 3 whole days to be corporeal again.”
“Jiminy! That sounds almost too good to be true.” Pete ran a hand through his hair, mouth still agape.
“Pete’s right,” Alberta nodded. “There’s gotta be a catch. One thing I learned working in showbiz is you don’t ever get something for nothing.” She put her hands on her hips.
“And what I learned working in the stock market,” Trevor cut in, “is ‘no risk, no reward.’” He turned to the rest of the group. “Guys, we could be alive again!”
“Well, sorta.” Sam hated to burst the bubble.
“I knew it.” Alberta declared. Bending the rules of the universe couldn’t be as easy as all that.
“It looks like there are some restrictions,” Sam continued, looking at each of her friends. “You still can’t leave the property, for one. And like I said, it lasts 3 days and that’s it. Probably some other stuff, too. The person who wrote this says they didn't want to test the limits."
Hetty sunk down onto the sofa. “So then, how do we know that this will work?”
“Well, the séance the other year did bring back Molly,” offered Sasappis as he took the seat next to her. “So, at least one of their things works.”
“Thor like the idea. Even if only for short time. It will be good to eat cod again.”
Jay made a mental note to stop by the fishmonger tomorrow.
“How does this website holder person even know how to go about all these ghost things?” Hetty asked. The efficacy of the séance seemed more a fluke to her, dumb luck for some internet conman.
“Maybe there’s someone like me out there who’s had more time to get used to their powers and learn about all the ghost lore.” Sam hoped there really was at least one other person out there who knew what it was like.
“It sounds like a win-win situation to me” Flower perched herself on the arm of the couch. “If it does work, we get to be kinda-sorta human again for a little bit. And I can finally pet that butterfly!”
“Flower, I don’t think that’s what a win-win situation is.” Albert said, placing her hand on the other ghost’s shoulder. “It’s more like just a single win. And besides, there will still be living things we can’t do.”
Isaac turned to Sam, “But, you’re saying that we could have at least a semi-return to life?” His curiosity melted to excitement, “You can give all of us a semi?”
Trevor hissed a stifled laugh and turned away.
“Well…” Sam searched for a diplomatic way to address the new ghost term, “maybe we can find a, um, different descriptor than that.” She trailed off.
“Ooohhh! We could call them quasimorts like in The Chronicles of Riddick!” Jay interjected, proud of how his powers of inference had grown over the years of ghostly shenanigans.
“Eugh,” Isaac made a face, “’ half dead’ just sounds wrong.”
Sam looked blankly at her husband.
“Oh right, you fell asleep through that movie.” Jay shrugged. “Never mind.”
Sam returned her attention to the invisible group. “Obviously, none of you have to do this if you don’t want to. Like Hetty said, it may not even work, but if there’s a chance—”
“I’m in, Sam.” Sass stood.
“Yes, if we cannot be sucked off, at least we all can get a semi.” Hetty added.
The other ghosts nodded and voiced their agreement. If nothing else, it was something to do for a few hours in eternity.
The items for the ritual had been easy to source over the next few days thanks to the miracles of Deal Mart and Amazon Prime. Incense and tealights burned, the faint orange glow was the only light source across the whole manor. It reflected off the smoke that trailed around the room, carrying the light in an almost supernatural way. Sam and Jay had placed one of each just in front of where each ghost now stood in the circle and took care to cover any mirrors in the room just as the anonymous internet medium had instructed. In the center sat a pile of seemingly random junk, from candied orange peels to a VHS of the movie Ghost.
“Alexa,” Sam activated the device, “How long until moon rise?”
It dinged in recognition of the question, “The moon will rise at 8:42 pm.”
“Thank you, Alexa.” Sam replied and she rolled her shoulders for at least the fifth time in the past 15 minutes.
Jay raised an eyebrow, glancing at his wife.
“What?”
“Trying to appease our future robot overlords?” Jay joked. He knew how anxious Sam was for this to actually work.
She smiled and the tension in her shoulders dropped. Somehow Jay always knew what she needed in the moment. He really was the best husband she could ever ask for, even if he did polish off the brand-new party-sized bag of chips she’d just bought that morning.
“Now, we all join hands.” Sam took Jay’s hand and held out her other for Flower to hold to the best of her ability. “Repeat after me: “Spirts, spirts, welcome in.” The voices of her friends echoed around her. “May you be restored as the veil grows thin. May your bones and flesh return during this Halloween sojourn." She squeezed her eyes closed. Please, please let this work, she thought.
The ground rumbled as a gust whooshed through the room extinguishing all the candles and incense leaving them all bathed in darkness.
“So,” Flower dropped Sam’s hand, “Did it work?”
“Who said that?” Jay looked around hoping for some bit of moonlight peeking through a window, “Sam?”. There was no way.
“Jay, that was Flower!” Sam could’ve cried. “If Jay heard Flower, that means—"
Sam sprinted over to the light switch and gasped as her friends were illuminated. Something had changed about them. Even though she, obviously, could see them, the ghosts all seemed somehow more solid, now.
“Oh my God! It actually worked! Sam, I can see them too!” Joy lit Jay’s face as he ran over to hug Pete.
Trevor was doubled over, hands on his knees. “Holy shit. I feel like I just sprinted a mile.” Trevor choked out.
Sam’s eyes widened. She surveyed the other ghosts quickly. Most of them seemed fine, but others…
“Oh! Oh no!" Sam grabbed a small canister from her purse. "Here, Trevor, use my inhaler.” She shook it and handed it to the still pants-less, well he wasn’t really technically a ghost anymore. Who would’ve guessed that her asthma would ever come in handy?
Isaac rushed to the water closet behind the check-in desk.
“Make sure you wash your hands,” Sass called after him.
Jay added some Pepto-Bismol and Gatorade to his mental shopping list, too. “I guess you guys can still be effected by your cause of death.”
Alberta slumped onto the couch, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”
Hetty and Isaac took places on either side of her to at least try tend to their friend.
“It looks like the stuff that killed us just got, I dunno, dialed back, or something.” Flower touched her shoulder where the gashes from her bear attack still shimmered red but didn’t gush like they should’ve.
Sam didn’t think she’d ever seen Flower look this clear-eyed, even in her moments of lucidity.
“Huh. It looks like those of us who died from external forces aren’t that effected.” Pete rubbed each side of his neck, only feeling small wounds on either side, “Guess that’s good for you, Big Guy.” He patted Thorfinn’s shoulder.
“Yes. Thor very glad to not be hit by lightning again.” He crossed to a slightly askew painting hanging on the opposite wall and straightened it. “Been bothering me for years.” He explained “This is great! We should do every Halloween.”
“I think that’s a no-go, buddy. Full moons only happen on Halloween once every 20-ish years, or there about.” Pete gazed thoughtfully up at the aforementioned celestial body now peaking through the window, just above the tree line.
“Hey,” Trevor’s gasping for air had thankfully slowed to almost normal breathing, “Y’know, that inhaler thing could count as an indirect kiss.” Trevor offered a weak smile.
“Trevor!” Sam objected.
“Joking. Joking.” He put up his hands in mock surrender.
“Man, what did you even take that would do that to you?” Jay crossed to them.
“Hell, if I know. That was supposed to be the fun part.”
“Well, how ‘bout we get you some pants, No-Pants.” Jay clapped a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “You look like you’re about my size.”
“Really?” Trevor was touched by the offer. “Thanks, man.” Jay may have been a nerd, but at least he was a cool nerd.
“I’ll even throw in some clean boxers.”
“You, Jay, are truly a bro.”
Isaac wandered in from his bathroom prison. "Could I trouble any of you for some water?"
"I've got ya, buddy." Pete dipped into the kitchen. His eyes welled as he appreciated the grain of the cabinet door against his fingers, the smoothness of the glass and its coolness as it filled with water. Touch was such an underrated sense. "Here you go." He handed to glass to Isaac, wiping away the tears that had threatened underneath his glasses.
"Thank you." Isaac downed the glass in nearly one gulp. The first thing he was able to ingest in centuries and water had never tasted so good. "Oh, Samantha, the water is very good here. You can't even taste any dirt," He declared.
"Water filtration is a great invention." Sass commented.
Hetty bustled over to Sam, satisfied that Alberta had regained some strength. “Samantha, if Trevor is getting to remedy his, shall we say, under-dressed state, may I too trouble you to borrow some less restrictive clothing?" She lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning close to Sam, "I have been in this corset for the past hundred and thirty years. You've talked about removing your brassiere after a long day. Can you possibly imagine keeping one on for over a century?”
“Hetty? Are you saying you want to free the nipple?” Flower was amused and astonished.
“Oh heavens, no!” Disgust dripped from her voice at the very notion. I thought Samantha would have some sort of longer frock.” Hetty tried to illustrate a swooshing skirt with her hand. Though, she had to admit she hadn't considered how that undergarment situation would work.
Sam looked up at Hetty, as it finally hit her: at least for 3 days she had all her best friends with her, in the flesh. Sam enveloped her great-great-great-grand aunt in the tightest hug she could muster. “You can borrow any clothes you want. All of you.”
And for the first time in 130 years, Henrietta Woodstone was able to put her arms around a member of her family and return that gesture. The rest of the room joined, some voicing their thanks to Sam, others letting the hug do the talking.
Hey friends, new fic! I came across the show Ghosts this year and I really love it, so I had an idea.
Summary:
Isaac turned to Sam, “But, you’re saying that we could have at least a semi-return to life?” His curiosity turned to excitement, “You can give all of us a semi?!” "Maybe we can find a, um, different descriptor from that?"
What happens when Sam finds a ritual on the internet that could potentially partially resurrect our favorite post-living housemates? Will it even work?
Cross posted to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56327503/chapters/143111143
The crisp chill of autumn had settled over Woodstone Manor and the promise of Halloween grew with the orange and red carpet of fallen leaves that spread across the vast grounds of the estate. Sam sat by the library window scrolling on her phone, hoping that some time away from the laptop screen would help bust through her writer’s block. That afternoon saw the ghosts attending to their various hobbies, leaving Sam a rare moment of silence.
“Hey Jay, listen to this:” She called out and thumbed back to the top of the page, “that website I got the séance instructions from, it looks like they have some sort of ritual they’re claiming can give a ghost its body back!”
“You’re kidding. That would be so cool!” Jay rushed in, beaming. “I could finally get to hang out for real with my man Pete; shoot some hoops, play some D n’ D.” He peered over Sam’s shoulder at the phone browser. “I could teach the ghosts how to play x-box!” he said. “Do we need physical items that belonged to the ghosts or that they had with them when they died or anything?”
“Nope. It looks like we just need whoever’s getting their body back to be a part of the circle. And y’know the candles and incense and stuff it lists here.” Sam showed him said list and crossed to the library door. “Guys come in here, I found something really exciting!”
The eight ghost friends gathered quickly, each echoing their own variation of “what is it?”
Sam repeated the discovery, finishing with, “And so the day before Halloween, we can do this ritual and you guys would get 3 whole days to be corporeal again.”
“Jiminy! That sounds almost too good to be true.” Pete ran a hand through his hair, mouth still agape.
“Pete’s right,” Alberta nodded. “There’s gotta be a catch. One thing I learned working in showbiz is you don’t ever get something for nothing.” She put her hands on her hips.
“And what I learned working in the stock market,” Trevor cut in, “is ‘no risk, no reward.’” He turned to the rest of the group. “Guys, we could be alive again!”
“Well, sorta.” Sam hated to burst the bubble.
“I knew it.” Alberta declared. Bending the rules of the universe couldn’t be as easy as all that.
“It looks like there are some restrictions,” Sam continued, looking at each of her friends. “You still can’t leave the property, for one. And like I said, it lasts 3 days and that’s it. Probably some other stuff, too. The person who wrote this says they didn't want to test the limits."
Hetty sunk down onto the sofa. “So then, how do we know that this will work?”
“Well, the séance the other year did bring back Molly,” offered Sasappis as he took the seat next to her. “So, at least one of their things works.”
“Thor like the idea. Even if only for short time. It will be good to eat cod again.”
Jay made a mental note to stop by the fishmonger tomorrow.
“How does this website holder person even know how to go about all these ghost things?” Hetty asked. The efficacy of the séance seemed more a fluke to her, dumb luck for some internet conman.
“Maybe there’s someone like me out there who’s had more time to get used to their powers and learn about all the ghost lore.” Sam hoped there really was at least one other person out there who knew what it was like.
“It sounds like a win-win situation to me” Flower perched herself on the arm of the couch. “If it does work, we get to be kinda-sorta human again for a little bit. And I can finally pet that butterfly!”
“Flower, I don’t think that’s what a win-win situation is.” Albert said, placing her hand on the other ghost’s shoulder. “It’s more like just a single win. And besides, there will still be living things we can’t do.”
Isaac turned to Sam, “But, you’re saying that we could have at least a semi-return to life?” His curiosity melted to excitement, “You can give all of us a semi?”
Trevor hissed a stifled laugh and turned away.
“Well…” Sam searched for a diplomatic way to address the new ghost term, “maybe we can find a, um, different descriptor than that.” She trailed off.
“Ooohhh! We could call them quasimorts like in The Chronicles of Riddick!” Jay interjected, proud of how his powers of inference had grown over the years of ghostly shenanigans.
“Eugh,” Isaac made a face, “’ half dead’ just sounds wrong.”
Sam looked blankly at her husband.
“Oh right, you fell asleep through that movie.” Jay shrugged. “Never mind.”
Sam returned her attention to the invisible group. “Obviously, none of you have to do this if you don’t want to. Like Hetty said, it may not even work, but if there’s a chance—”
“I’m in, Sam.” Sass stood.
“Yes, if we cannot be sucked off, at least we all can get a semi.” Hetty added.
The other ghosts nodded and voiced their agreement. If nothing else, it was something to do for a few hours in eternity.
The items for the ritual had been easy to source over the next few days thanks to the miracles of Deal Mart and Amazon Prime. Incense and tealights burned, the faint orange glow was the only light source across the whole manor. It reflected off the smoke that trailed around the room, carrying the light in an almost supernatural way. Sam and Jay had placed one of each just in front of where each ghost now stood in the circle and took care to cover any mirrors in the room just as the anonymous internet medium had instructed. In the center sat a pile of seemingly random junk, from candied orange peels to a VHS of the movie Ghost.
“Alexa,” Sam activated the device, “How long until moon rise?”
It dinged in recognition of the question, “The moon will rise at 8:42 pm.”
“Thank you, Alexa.” Sam replied and she rolled her shoulders for at least the fifth time in the past 15 minutes.
Jay raised an eyebrow, glancing at his wife.
“What?”
“Trying to appease our future robot overlords?” Jay joked. He knew how anxious Sam was for this to actually work.
She smiled and the tension in her shoulders dropped. Somehow Jay always knew what she needed in the moment. He really was the best husband she could ever ask for, even if he did polish off the brand-new party-sized bag of chips she’d just bought that morning.
“Now, we all join hands.” Sam took Jay’s hand and held out her other for Flower to hold to the best of her ability. “Repeat after me: “Spirts, spirts, welcome in.” The voices of her friends echoed around her. “May you be restored as the veil grows thin. May your bones and flesh return during this Halloween sojourn." She squeezed her eyes closed. Please, please let this work, she thought.
The ground rumbled as a gust whooshed through the room extinguishing all the candles and incense leaving them all bathed in darkness.
“So,” Flower dropped Sam’s hand, “Did it work?”
“Who said that?” Jay looked around hoping for some bit of moonlight peeking through a window, “Sam?”. There was no way.
“Jay, that was Flower!” Sam could’ve cried. “If Jay heard Flower, that means—"
Sam sprinted over to the light switch and gasped as her friends were illuminated. Something had changed about them. Even though she, obviously, could see them, the ghosts all seemed somehow more solid, now.
“Oh my God! It actually worked! Sam, I can see them too!” Joy lit Jay’s face as he ran over to hug Pete.
Trevor was doubled over, hands on his knees. “Holy shit. I feel like I just sprinted a mile.” Trevor choked out.
Sam’s eyes widened. She surveyed the other ghosts quickly. Most of them seemed fine, but others…
“Oh! Oh no!" Sam grabbed a small canister from her purse. "Here, Trevor, use my inhaler.” She shook it and handed it to the still pants-less, well he wasn’t really technically a ghost anymore. Who would’ve guessed that her asthma would ever come in handy?
Isaac rushed to the water closet behind the check-in desk.
“Make sure you wash your hands,” Sass called after him.
Jay added some Pepto-Bismol and Gatorade to his mental shopping list, too. “I guess you guys can still be effected by your cause of death.”
Alberta slumped onto the couch, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”
Hetty and Isaac took places on either side of her to at least try tend to their friend.
“It looks like the stuff that killed us just got, I dunno, dialed back, or something.” Flower touched her shoulder where the gashes from her bear attack still shimmered red but didn’t gush like they should’ve.
Sam didn’t think she’d ever seen Flower look this clear-eyed, even in her moments of lucidity.
“Huh. It looks like those of us who died from external forces aren’t that effected.” Pete rubbed each side of his neck, only feeling small wounds on either side, “Guess that’s good for you, Big Guy.” He patted Thorfinn’s shoulder.
“Yes. Thor very glad to not be hit by lightning again.” He crossed to a slightly askew painting hanging on the opposite wall and straightened it. “Been bothering me for years.” He explained “This is great! We should do every Halloween.”
“I think that’s a no-go, buddy. Full moons only happen on Halloween once every 20-ish years, or there about.” Pete gazed thoughtfully up at the aforementioned celestial body now peaking through the window, just above the tree line.
“Hey,” Trevor’s gasping for air had thankfully slowed to almost normal breathing, “Y’know, that inhaler thing could count as an indirect kiss.” Trevor offered a weak smile.
“Trevor!” Sam objected.
“Joking. Joking.” He put up his hands in mock surrender.
“Man, what did you even take that would do that to you?” Jay crossed to them.
“Hell, if I know. That was supposed to be the fun part.”
“Well, how ‘bout we get you some pants, No-Pants.” Jay clapped a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “You look like you’re about my size.”
“Really?” Trevor was touched by the offer. “Thanks, man.” Jay may have been a nerd, but at least he was a cool nerd.
“I’ll even throw in some clean boxers.”
“You, Jay, are truly a bro.”
Isaac wandered in from his bathroom prison. "Could I trouble any of you for some water?"
"I've got ya, buddy." Pete dipped into the kitchen. His eyes welled as he appreciated the grain of the cabinet door against his fingers, the smoothness of the glass and its coolness as it filled with water. Touch was such an underrated sense. "Here you go." He handed to glass to Isaac, wiping away the tears that had threatened underneath his glasses.
"Thank you." Isaac downed the glass in nearly one gulp. The first thing he was able to ingest in centuries and water had never tasted so good. "Oh, Samantha, the water is very good here. You can't even taste any dirt," He declared.
"Water filtration is a great invention." Sass commented.
Hetty bustled over to Sam, satisfied that Alberta had regained some strength. “Samantha, if Trevor is getting to remedy his, shall we say, under-dressed state, may I too trouble you to borrow some less restrictive clothing?" She lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning close to Sam, "I have been in this corset for the past hundred and thirty years. You've talked about removing your brassiere after a long day. Can you possibly imagine keeping one on for over a century?”
“Hetty? Are you saying you want to free the nipple?” Flower was amused and astonished.
“Oh heavens, no!” Disgust dripped from her voice at the very notion. I thought Samantha would have some sort of longer frock.” Hetty tried to illustrate a swooshing skirt with her hand. Though, she had to admit she hadn't considered how that undergarment situation would work.
Sam looked up at Hetty, as it finally hit her: at least for 3 days she had all her best friends with her, in the flesh. Sam enveloped her great-great-great-grand aunt in the tightest hug she could muster. “You can borrow any clothes you want. All of you.”
And for the first time in 130 years, Henrietta Woodstone was able to put her arms around a member of her family and return that gesture. The rest of the room joined, some voicing their thanks to Sam, others letting the hug do the talking.
If your plot feels flat, STUDY it! Your story might be lacking...
Stakes - What would happen if the protagonist failed? Would it really be such a bad thing if it happened?
Thematic relevance - Do the events of the story speak to a greater emotional or moral message? Is the conflict resolved in a way that befits the theme?
Urgency - How much time does the protagonist have to complete their goal? Are there multiple factors complicating the situation?
Drive - What motivates the protagonist? Are they an active player in the story, or are they repeatedly getting pushed around by external forces? Could you swap them out for a different character with no impact on the plot? On the flip side, do the other characters have sensible motivations of their own?
Yield - Is there foreshadowing? Do the protagonist's choices have unforeseen consequences down the road? Do they use knowledge or clues from the beginning, to help them in the end? Do they learn things about the other characters that weren't immediately obvious?
Gleb stood in that marble room in Paris for what felt like the hundredth time. A red glow washed over the white pillars. The urge to scream set his throat on fire and his arm shook as he held it out in front of him, the dull metal of the gun glinting in the light. Anya – Anastasia – stood before him, defiance blazing in those blue eyes.
“Do it,” She egged him on. “And I will be with my parents and brother and sisters in that cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at her as his fingers took on a life of their own. She fell in slow motion, silent as the red silk of her gown grew dark. Free from his spell, Gleb cast the gun away and clutched Anya to him.
“Anya!” The tears stung his eyes now. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He repeated as though he’d forgotten how to say any words but those.
Her dark blonde hair had come loose from its bun and cascaded down her shoulders, the ends staining a reddish-brown. She seemed so small in his arms, slighter and more delicate than she had been in life.
“Gleb,” Anya’s voice echoed around him from nowhere and everywhere at once. “I thought you were better than this. Better than them.” Disappointment, rather than anger, rang in the echo which somehow made it all the worse.
He thought he had been better, too. But, deep down, it seemed he wasn’t. Gleb had done his duty by Russia and all it cost was his soul. Was this what his father felt standing in the basement of the Ipatiev House? Bile burned at the back of his mouth. Gleb had killed before – what soldier hadn’t? – but never an innocent woman standing unarmed before him, never someone he’d known, someone he’d loved.
“Please, forgive me,” he begged, burying his face in her hair. “Please.”
The jolt of the train pulling to a stop woke Gleb with a start. He rubbed his eyes; almost grateful the scene had just been the same nightmare he’d been having since returning from Paris. Even if the details varied slightly dream to dream, it always ended the same.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Katya greeted his return to the waking world. She shifted in the seat as they waited to disembark from the train.
“So,” Katya looked at Gleb, a question tugging at her mouth, “what did you do to this Anya girl that you keep apologizing for?”
The question may as well have been a well-timed slap.
“You talk in your sleep,” Katya answered the unasked question with unsettling nonchalance.
“No, I don’t.” Gleb’s protest almost overlapped the statement.
Katya’s likely sarcastic and more than a little blunt response passed on her face, but, to her credit, she said nothing. They’d all been left with nightmares after the revolution, some people’s were more potent than others.
Gleb took a breath to compose himself. Of course, Katya didn’t know about Paris. How could she? Even Commissioner Gorlinsky didn’t know the specifics of what happened in that room before the Dowager Empress’s press conference. Gleb rubbed his face again, hoping to push the dream further back into the realms of sleep. His stubble was rough beneath his palms; he’d need to shave soon.
Minsk was familiar yet alien as the pair stepped out of the train station. Their first goal was to find a place to stay for the night. Neither was particularly keen on sleeping anywhere but a bed for yet another night. Any large city was bound to have more than one boarding house or hotel. Strains of Belarusian mixed with Russian floated through the streets as the people of Minsk went about their days. The Russian was comfortable, a sense of home; the Belarusian left Katya frustrated. It felt so close to her own language, yet so foreign. Information just out of her reach.
Falling into the flow of the foot traffic was easy for the pair of experienced city-dwellers. The current ebbed and flowed as it had in St. Petersburg and Moscow. It seemed people were inherently people anywhere one went. The scent of frying dough enveloped Katya as she and Gleb passed a food stall and set her stomach growling. She stepped out of the flow, gently tugging Gleb to follow.
“Pierogi!” The smile that split Katya’s face was the largest Gleb had seen on her.
“Not quite.” The merchant pulled the food out of his frier. “Kletski. They’re like pierogi. If you like those, you’ll love these. And mine are the best kletski in Minsk!”
“If they taste as good as they smell, I’m inclined to believe you.” Katya pulled out her purse and dropped her money into the merchant’s hand. “We’ll both take two.”
Few foods in the world were better than meat wrapped in fried dough and smothered in onions: this was one of the facts Katya lived by. Even the cold bench they sat on couldn’t spoil her enjoyment of this food. By the time Gleb had finished his first kletski, she was halfway through her second.
“Careful, if you eat too quickly, you’ll throw it all up.” To be honest, Gleb was a little amazed at the gusto with which his travelling companion ate.
“I know. They’re just so good. And it’s been forever since I’ve had anything close to pierogi. They were the one thing my mother knew how to cook. Or at least the only thing she every did cook.”
Gleb thought back to his own mother, covered in flour and always smelling of warm bread and floral tea. They’d never had much, but somehow, she’d been able to create feasts. At least, the meals seemed that way through the lens of childhood. Looking back, she was just creative and frugal.
“I can’t imagine a mother who doesn’t cook,” Gleb said.
“Mine has—” Katya searched for the right word, “other qualities.” The grimace she had suppressed at the thought of her mother surfaced quickly before Katya regained control of her face. She anticipated the incredulity before it was able to show on Gleb’s face. “Good ones! I can’t think of any at the moment, but she does.”
“If you can’t even think of her good qualities, why are you going all the way to Paris to find her?”
Memories of Masha and Gala flashed in Katya’s mind: Masha, trying to look stern as she held back a laugh, and Gala’s radiant smile that enchanted most men, and a few women, on whom it shone. For more than a decade, the three had braved the world together. First, as teenagers: two novice nuns and a factory girl weaving their way through the hell of revolution. Then, as young women: the three had lost their entire worlds and learned to rebuild, leaning on each other for all of it. Facing the next ten days without them, let alone the looming lifetime left Katya adrift.
“She and my brother are all I have left. Sometimes, you just need to be with your family.”
The plan hadn’t originally been to find her mother and brother in Paris. They’d chosen the French capital more for its excitement and the rumors they’d heard about the booming Russian expatriate community. But after that night, even at 28, Katya simply wanted her mother.
A voice in the back of his head warned Gleb to leave it there. Trusting his better judgment, he did.
“Thank you for the food,” said Gleb as the pair rose to continue on their quest to find an inexpensive boarding house.
Gleb had never been good at idle chit-chat, but Katya seemed a master. She wove them through conversation as easily as they wove through the streets of Minsk. They swept between books they each enjoyed, though he couldn’t fathom her love of War and Peace, music they preferred, and deftly danced past any mention of politics or religion.
The shabby boarding house the pair had finally happened upon sagged with age. With its cracked stone and ivy-draped walls, it could’ve been there when the riders first crossed the Rus. Alright, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration. Bells chimed as Katya and Gleb entered the parlor and the overwhelming tang of mothballs hit them.
“Hello?” Katya coughed.
A woman who somehow looked older than the house peered around the corner. She examined each of the travelers in turn, her eyes thrice magnified by the thick spectacles perched precariously on her nose.
“How may I help you?” Her Russian was tinged with the Belarussian accent of Minsk but was otherwise flawless.
“My husband and I are returning to Poland and our train isn’t for a day.” Katya caught Gleb’s eye before his surprise at the word “husband” even surfaced, her wordless message clear: Just play along.
“He does not speak Russian.” Katya hoped the explanation would lessen the old woman’s scrutiny.
“How long are you hoping to stay, Comrade…” the question trailed off.
“Kschessinski.” Katya offered her most charming smile; a trick she’d learned from Gala. “Just a night.”
“I should have a room. Twin beds. Room 2 on the third floor,” The landlady produced a ledger, “It’ll be three rubles. And supper is at 7. If you’re late, you don’t eat.” Katya signed for herself and Gleb and the old woman bustled back into what must’ve been the kitchen.
Katya and Gleb hurried up the stairs. The musty stench of mothballs grew stronger as they ascended the pink-carpeted stairs and moved down the hallway. It hung so thick clouds of mothball stench were almost visible by the time they reached the third floor. Katya gasped for breath as they finally closed the door.
“It’s worse!” She choked out, “How is the smell worse up here than it was down there?”
Gleb shrugged off his coat and crossed the small room to open the window. Katya joined him at the sill, gulping in the non-mothball contaminated air.
“I suppose she’s afraid the moths will do her the favor of eating that pink rug in the hall.” Gleb crossed to the sink and pulled his razor and soap out of his pack. The water ran frigid. Gleb examined himself in the small mirror that hung above the basin. Hopefully he’d be able to finish shaving before dinner. The timbre of the waterflow brightened, it had warmed quickly for the chill of the evening.
Katya sat on the bed closest to the window, which she’d claimed as her own for the night. She glanced over to where Gleb stood. His focus was as sharp as the razor that he swept deftly across his cheek. Katya didn’t remember the last time she saw someone so intent. He tilted his chin up, moving on to his neck. The freshness of soap overtook the stench of mothballs, filling her senses. The steel glided effortlessly across his jawline, light and gentle as a kiss. Katya was transfixed.
Gleb must’ve felt her eyes on him, “Do you need to use the sink, too?”
“Oh! Um, yes. I need to…” She hadn’t realized how much she’d been staring, “wash my face before dinner.”
Gleb dampened the small towel he’d produced from his bag and wiped off the remaining lather, “I’ll get out of your way, then.”
Katya thanked him and moved to the still running sink, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt. If it was, perhaps she could blame it on the hot water.
“I’m going to see what books were in the parlor. Since we’ll be here all night anyway it may be nice do some reading.” He pulled his coat back on, slipping out the door before Katya could reply.
The boarders all kept to themselves at dinner. Gleb enjoyed the silence. The peace of a simple supper was luxurious after the days of running. Even the permeating odor of the mothballs had dissipated, replaced with the aroma of vegetable stew.
Once the meal was finished, the inmates of the ancient house repaired to their rooms in the same silence, Katya and Gleb among their ranks. Upon entering the room, Gleb produced two volumes borrowed from the parlor, Crime and Punishment for himself and,
“War and Peace?” Katya grabbed the book with the same gusto she’d eaten the kletskis with.
“I figured you’d enjoy having something to do other than sit and stare at the walls all night.” No tight-lipped half-grimace, Gleb favored her with a gentle, genuine smile.
After four hours, Pierre’s father had finally died, leaving him as Count Bezukhov and Katya felt sleep tugging on her eyelids. She turned and looked to her odd travelling companion, still buried deep in his own choice of Dostoyevsky.
“Aren’t you going to change for bed?” Katya propped herself upon her elbow.
“What?” Gleb was shaken from the world of this book, “Oh.” His discomfort radiated the short distance from one bed to the other, “I—I don’t think I will.”
“You’re not shy, are you?” Katya teased. “I’ll turn my back if you want.”
“No, I’m fine in my clothes.” Gleb thought of the nice, clean night shirt he’d packed and then of the stench of travel that lingered on him. With no idea when he’d get to wash his clothes again, there was no other option.
“Alright, have it your way then. I think I’ll turn in. We’ll have to leave early tomorrow to make the train for Warsaw.”
Gleb nodded his ascent, reluctantly putting his own book down and dimming the lamp on the shared bedside table. “Good night, Yekaterina Sergeyevna.”
Set during S4 ep 8. Just a short little thing that came up in my brain while I was re-watching this episode/my mom was re-watching and I was in the room. Fic Below the cut
Lenny thought, really and truly, that he didn’t have a favorite color when Midge had asked earlier that night. Shit, had it only been that night? He would’ve sworn up and down that he didn’t really care what color they painted the damn room. But then, he saw her standing there, drenched in snow melt, her cheeks still flushed from the cold. Those very blue walls of his room in Carnegie Hall—the ones painted for him—had nothing on Midge’s eyes. Maybe the color made her eyes bluer or maybe the walls just paled in comparison.
Sure, she was gorgeous. Anyone with eyes would’ve agreed. But perched on the arm of that black leather chair, she could’ve been Venus incarnate. Maybe it was just the adrenaline of running from the raid, but even sitting across from her had blood roaring in his ears.
“And we do some very blue things in this very blue room…” Midge gestured with her glass of whiskey.
Wait? Fuck? Was she serious?
“I need you to look me in the eye first and promise that you will never ever forget that I am very very funny.”
As if he could. As if he could forget anything about Miriam Maisel. The woman made an impression, intentional or not. She was like fire—a blue flame blazing through life, blazing through him as she kissed him. Leaving char and ash where her fingers traced.
Laying there with her in his arms, Lenny could say for certain now that his favorite color was blue.
I meant for my little POV ficlet to be just a one-shot, but here we are. Should one tag spoilers for real life history that's easily accessible via wikipedia? Anyway, here's some post-canon angst for you cause I hurt my own feelings writing it, so you all have to suffer, too.
December 1966—California.
“Really, Len? You couldn’t be buried somewhere closer to New York?” Midge hoped he would’ve appreciated the dark humor.
It felt wrong: 70 degrees in December. Though, everything about this trip felt wrong. Midge felt around the pocket of her dress. The stone she brought was heavier than it should’ve been, but the tumbled-smooth surface felt cool against her hand. She still couldn’t believe she’d paid five cents for a rock, but something about it was right.
The grass had already covered over the relatively freshly-turned earth. Green and well-kept, it spread ahead for acres. At least it was a nice cemetery. Peaceful, the way cemeteries were supposed to be. And something about it made Midge sick.
“Y’know, Lenny, when I heard about you—that you’d died—I was so angry. I kept thinking: God, if he’d just kicked the stuff…But then, if you’d just kicked the stuff maybe we would’ve stood a better chance. Maybe we’d be running through a snowstorm in Manhattan right now, instead of standing around in fucking 70-degree weather in December.”
She shook her head. No use getting lost in “what-if” now. Midge knelt, pulling the stone out. She turned it over, admiring the odd coloring before placing it on the simple headstone. Midge took a deep breath; she was not going to cry. She’d cried enough over the past 3 months. Turning, to go, the glint of the sun caught her eye. It wasn’t every day you came across a rock that shade of blue.
Set during S4 ep 8. Just a short little thing that came up in my brain while I was re-watching this episode/my mom was re-watching and I was in the room. Fic Below the cut
Lenny thought, really and truly, that he didn’t have a favorite color when Midge had asked earlier that night. Shit, had it only been that night? He would’ve sworn up and down that he didn’t really care what color they painted the damn room. But then, he saw her standing there, drenched in snow melt, her cheeks still flushed from the cold. Those very blue walls of his room in Carnegie Hall—the ones painted for him—had nothing on Midge’s eyes. Maybe the color made her eyes bluer or maybe the walls just paled in comparison.
Sure, she was gorgeous. Anyone with eyes would’ve agreed. But perched on the arm of that black leather chair, she could’ve been Venus incarnate. Maybe it was just the adrenaline of running from the raid, but even sitting across from her had blood roaring in his ears.
“And we do some very blue things in this very blue room…” Midge gestured with her glass of whiskey.
Wait? Fuck? Was she serious?
“I need you to look me in the eye first and promise that you will never ever forget that I am very very funny.”
As if he could. As if he could forget anything about Miriam Maisel. The woman made an impression, intentional or not. She was like fire—a blue flame blazing through life, blazing through him as she kissed him. Leaving char and ash where her fingers traced.
Laying there with her in his arms, Lenny could say for certain now that his favorite color was blue.
came back wrong trope but the character knows that they came back wrong. they’re so acutely aware of how different they are now from how they were before that it drives them fucking insane. they’re stuck trying to return to somebody that’s long dead. they can never be the person they once were. everybody around them knows it. deep down, they know it too, but they’re trapped in a cycle of their own making. of trying to revive someone that no longer exists.
There is no joy like the joy of a writer who has just figured out that a throwaway line they put into the first few paragraphs of a story is actually the key to a major plot point and possibly even the theme underlying the entire thing.
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
