Shadows swirled around the ghost as he took slow, deliberate steps through the Murder House.
To an outsider looking at the man, it would appear as if the shadows were a living cloud around him–inhaling and exhaling with every step he took. To an outsider looking in, his presence was oppressive, something the ghost rather enjoyed.
Shadow had been dead for a while–longer than even he could even estimate. It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember a time when he felt his heart beat its rhythmic thump. Death had taken the memories leaving him reborn as a ghost.
It had taken a long time for the ghost to take in the world around him. Time passed as quickly as the sun rose and set. That was…unless he was haunting.
Shadow reveled in the small terrors he was able to inflict on the living around him. Pure enjoyment as he used them for his own little exercises. Stories upon stories spread about several of his hauntings, not one ever exactly the same. He wasn’t a cruel man, but death had allowed him to enjoy himself. Allowed him to break free from the mortal conscience. How exhilarating his time had been during those countless years.
It wasn’t until a kindred spirit seemed to call to him that he took stock of where and what he should be doing.
The small girl could have been mistaken for a ghost. She could have been except the blasted family that acknowledged her existence. He watched her since she was a baby–the small tether growing to an unbreakable bond as she grew older. As she started to watch him too. Throughout her young life she was his. Samantha had been the first thing he had held onto, and no matter what Shadow wasn’t going to let go.
Memories flooded the ghost as he continued his steps, aiming for nowhere in particular. The shadows around him continued to pulse, changing and growing as he stepped past the third story window where Sam had been flung from.
Stopping abruptly, Shadow nudged the air around him. She had been there recently. Used her ghost-like abilities in a pure poltergeist way. A wolfish smile spread across his features as he thought about who could’ve been at the opposing end of that little experience. Samantha had been his best pupil–his only pupil, but the best in any case–she had even surpassed his abilities. Not that he would ever let her know that.
An insignificant noise sounded behind him. Someone wanted their presence to be known, and while Shadow had an idea of how to get rid of them swiftly–he didn’t turn away from his current view as he looked at the window.
“They say house cats are the most dangerous type of cats on Earth. All of that lethal energy and they are stuck toying with mice.”
The shadows twisted little finger-like wisps around his shoulders.
“I wonder how dangerous they would consider this house if they knew the types of cats we keep in here.”
Maybe she knew better not to be wandering around that part of the house. It was claimed by darker, more hostile spirits usually ---- although she knew Tate would always be there to back her up if she got into it with anyone who meant her harm. Ana folded one hand into the other as the spirit she’d been following finally acknowledged her presence.
“I-I’m not sure what you mean...” the blonde stammered, shifting back just a tad. Was he talking about the ghosts? And in that case, was it a threat? “I mean... people already consider this house dangerous, don’t they?” It was an innocent question, if not a bit naive.
Anabelle had never been able to get a hold on haunting, nor did she want to. She never liked feeling powerless in life, and couldn’t imagine casting that feeling onto someone else. Especially with her at an advantage. Haunters were weak in her opinion. Weak, mean spirits who had nothing better to do with her afterlife. ...not that she would ever let them know that.
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