I must be dreaming cause I don’t believe in ghosts
I forgot to post this yesterday, but it was a year since I made my Through the Board story and therefore Carley’s birthday, and on 6th it’s Jerome’s birthday since it took me longer to come up with his design
The final ghost is Lydia, who I made earlier this year but never draw after the initial concept sketch, so I wanted to include her as well. She’s your typical creepy asylum/hospital ghost of someone who died from hanging, and she likes to watch what’s going on more than interacting
Jerome, Carley, Taya, Absence, 404, Amira, Tommy and Octavier; all of the ocs I created this year (plus Absence who was December 2018)
This is the most characters I've ever drawn in a single piece. I used a pose reference for 5, then added in the other 3. I'm actually quite happy with how this turned out
And with that, I leave everyone from my phobia demon universe, a software boi and the two newest beans who are part of my Through The Board story, as the final thing I'll draw this year and this decade
Welcome to a new story with two new OCs. This is only part one of the two parts I’ve written, and knowing me, the final part may never be written. But then again, it might.
So enjoy this part, and I’ll probably share part 2 tomorrow
Carley enjoyed hunting ghosts. She'd grown up watching shows where grown men would scream at small noises, run from darkness and clearly fake experiences, but that only made her want to find her own evidence. She was on the scientific side of believing in ghosts, with the people who used technology to document environmental changes or use devices to generate words. Everything about ghost hunting excited her, from the late nights to the dark hallways where anything could be waiting, or simply nothing at all. Not all hunts produce evidence; in fact, most times, the inexperienced and new walk away disappointed after experiencing nothing, but not Carley. She knows not everywhere that's claimed to be haunted is actually active, and not every haunting is intelligent with direct responses.
Sometimes, she'd like to sit in a room on her own, and within her ghost hunting group, she became the one that would be used in experiments. One time, she was sent into a basement on her own where it's said a male spirit grabs womens' hair, but instead she only heard a few unexplained footsteps. Another time, she dressed up in Victorian attire and walked around the halls of an old town hall, gaining a few unintelligible whispers caught on her microphone. She was the only one not afraid of tackling the dead on her own.
One of the other things Carley wasn't afraid of, which many in the group were, was using a Ouija board. She was the master, and always got a response from someone, but as she started to use a board on more hunts, she and the rest of the group began to see similarities in her responses. If these people were strangers, which sometimes they are when the event is opened up to the public, they'd accuse her of faking it, because the movements were always the same. The planchette would make one full circle before spelling out a word, and end hovering above 'goodbye' as if ready to close the session. No one could explain it other than Carley faking her responses. Well, that was until Carley's final hunt before taking a year long break.
In order to save money to go abroad, Carley decided to take a break from her hunts, also giving herself more time to focus on herself in the process. Her final hunt was a major one, at one of the most haunted locations she'd ever visited. She was determined to walk away with significant evidence as one last hurrah before stepping away. As always, she was part of experiments to gain a reaction, and conducted multiple sessions with different equipment, but she was coming up with nothing, so she pulled out her Ouija board. That's when it happened.
The planchette began to move. A circle before spelling a word before ending above 'goodbye'. Carley stopped. She had had enough.
"Ok, who are you?" her voice was harsh compared to her usual relaxed tone, surprising the other with her.
A circle, then nothing.
"Look, I know it's you whenever I do this. I know you're the same person. Who are you?!"
A circle. S A N D R A. Sandra, who was stood opposite Carley, froze in fear. Another circle. K E V I N. It was Kevin’s turn to freeze, his eyes wide in horror as he gripped his boyfriend’s arm tight. Another circle. A N D R E W. The final friend in the room with Carley grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and pulled him closer, burying his face in his neck and vice versa, the two very shaken.
One by one, the name of everyone in the group Carley had befriended, including everyone else not in the room, was spelled before her.
"Ok, creep. Stop naming my friends, what do you want?"
There was no circle this time. The movements were slow. Y O U.
"What do you want from me?" her voice still harsh and incredibly annoyed.
F R I E N D.
The room felt cold, like a window had been opened and an icy wind was blowing through, but they were in a basement. Carley was almost burning with anger. This thing had the audacity to name her friends, and now claim it wants a friend. Did it want one of her friends? Is that why it had named them? She took a deep breath and returned to the calm tone she usually used.
"What do you mean? Do you want one of my friends? Is that why you named them?" then she paused, "Or do you mean you want to be my friend?"
At this point, Carley had taken her fingers off the planchette. She was just in shock and trying to calm herself down, but the planchette began to move. No circle, no letter, it simply slid towards her until it fell off the board. For the first time in her life, she was fearful of the board in front of her, of the darkness around her and the faces looking at her in shock. Her fingers fumbled with the planchette to place it back on the board and close the session, tears threatening to break her strong facade.
"I think that's it for me," she muttered, standing from the table and trying not to run at high speed away from the building, "maybe for good."
In the year Carley had planned to take for herself and to save up for a holiday, she did nothing but 'ghost proof' her home. This thing, whatever it was, had been following her for a long time. It might even be watching her right now, and she was terrified. All she wanted was to feel safe in her own home, but she didn't even feel safe in her own skin anymore. Nothing in the world could scare her now, not as much as the idea that some dead person was beside her and she'd never know. The thought used to fascinate her, but now it kept her awake at night. Nothing felt the same. Nothing would ever feel the same.
Probably not as well written as part 1, but this is all I have for now. I swear part 3 will come eventually because I really want to draw something for it
You’ve met Carley, not it’s time to meet Jerome
Jerome was always scared. The world had moved on while he remained the same, just an echo of someone who once enjoyed life. Now he had nothing. Well, he had a home, and there were always people around him, but no one ever spoke to him. At first, he didn't understand why. He'd have thought a 13 year old boy walking around without a guardian would be suspicious, until he realised that no one could see him. Of course no one could see him. He'd died of smallpox in 1896, not long after his baby sister died of whooping cough. Sometimes he forgot that, or tried to forget it, but it of course came back when he'd try to ask someone a question and no one would respond.
Years passed of silence, no one interacting with him, until the ghost tours began. Finally, people were trying to talk to him. They even knew his name, and tried to reach him, but he only had the energy to knock a few times on command and occasionally be heard whispering. He couldn't talk, or at least they couldn't hear him. No matter the device, no matter the person or question, Jerome became known for knocks and whispers. People were satisfied with a noise that sounded remotely like a whisper and never tried to push further.
It became boring, so Jerome stopped responding. He enjoyed seeing the disappointed look when no one replied to a request, when their questions were met with silence. In fact, it became more fun just to follow people and get to know them. Sometimes he'd go home with them, just to see how people lived now. Jerome realised a lot had changed, but he never saw exactly what since he was stuck inside a town hall building until he learned how to latch onto someone.
A group of young adults came to conduct a ghost hunt, same as ever, but one girl in the group seemed different. She seemed more willing to communicate, and much more patient than most. She even came wearing a dress that Jerome had seem ladies wear when he was alive. He felt a connection to this girl, and smiled for the first time in years when she sat down in a quiet room with something he'd never seem before. A board with a weird, heart shaped piece of wood with a hole in it.
"If there's anyone here," she'd start, "please help move this planchette. You can spell out what you want to say."
Jerome had never seen anything like it before. This wasn't an electronic device designed to capture his voice, or a machine that generated atmospheric energy to try and strengthen him. This was small object, and all he needed to do was help to move it. So he sat opposite the girl in the Victorian dress, the same girl he'd followed up and down the hall in fascination, and placed his hand over the planchette.
"Is there someone with me?"
Trying to get used to the action, he moved the planchette in a small circle, much to the girls delight, then managed to manoeuvre the planchette to 'yes'
"Are you male?"
Another small circle, still testing things out, before 'yes' again.
The questions continued, and Jerome found it easier to communicate after a small circle of the planchette. He started to spell out words, simple things that didn't take too much energy, but when asked his name, he was too scared to answer. He had his chance to make himself known, to tell people that he was the ghost child reported here, but for some reason, he froze up.
And the session was closed.
Jerome couldn't bare to stay in silence anymore. He'd found someone who took the time to talk to him, make him feel more alive than ever, and he refused to leave her side. So he attached himself to her and stayed with her, not realising this ghost hunter would go on many more hunts and use that same board every time. No other ghosts ever came forward to talk when she did this, so he always stepped in, never specifying it was him or that he didn't belong here. He always made the same circle, and paranoid he'd freeze up like the first time, he would always leave the planchette hovering above 'goodbye', ready for the session to close if need be. He was happy, the girl was happy and most importantly, her friends seemed to be happy when they watched them communicate.
Then that night came. The night Carley lost it with him. The night Jerome had to admit all he wanted was to be friends, but he didn't expect such a reaction. He'd never seen fear in Carley's eyes in the time he'd been following her, but in that moment, he felt like she could see him, and she was disgusted with him, but he couldn't go anywhere else. How could he cope with the silence of the town hall again? How could he come with being alone after finding someone to talk to? He couldn't. So he stayed, and felt his heart break as Carley descended into a paranoid mess.
The final part. Poorly written and rushed but I wanted to get the idea out there so I could work on designs for the two new beans
What happens with Carley and Jerome? Find out!
Days. Months. All spent inside, hiding from things unseen. Carley hadn't spoken to anyone all summer. She'd been in a panic, ignoring all messages from her concerned friends. Andrew had tried to call her at least once a day, while Steven, Sandra's partner, was been blowing up her notifications with messages. Sandra had even come round, waiting for a while after knocking before sliding a letter through. Carley of course read the letter a few days later, and felt a pit in her stomach when she saw how worried her friends were. What was she doing? She had barely eaten, her eyes were bloodshot and she couldn't even remember the last time she slept without waking up not even 10 minutes later. She was a wreck, and if something had truly been following her, it was time to face it.
Dark room. Dim light. Lit candles that smelled like roses. Pillows arranged on the floor as a seat. Carley was setting up her living room in a way she hadn't for along time. Usually, this was her relaxation setup for when she'd watch movies at night, but this time, she was pulling out her now dusty Ouija board. Her aim was to contact whatever was following her, if it was in fact still following her. It was time to stop living in fear of the unknown and mysterious, and find answers that many would call fake, but it was all for some peace of mind.
"Hello," Carley spoke with a shaky voice, hoarse from barely drinking that day, "it's time I stopped whatever these last 6 months were and sorted things out. If you're still here," a deep breath, "please let me know"
Jerome had curiously watched Carley move everything in her living room, keeping a distance but never straying too far. When he had seen her pull out the Ouija board, he knew he couldn't keep hiding himself, so he joined her on the floor, hands moving to the planchette. The silence of Carley spoke, though only a few seconds, felt like it lasted hours. Her fingers were gently hovering above the planchette, shaking slightly, until it began to move. That familiar circle that made her heart stop, and a gentle slide over to 'yes'.
"Ok," Carley was on the verge of tears already, "can you please tell me your name?"
Jerome, for the first time, finally began spelling out his name, and Carley watched with a slight fascination hidden beneath the fear. He needed to be open, and she needed the truth.
"Ok, Jerome. Please, will you tell me where you came from?"
He didn't want to spell out 'town hall', so he hoped she'd at least understand 'hall'. So, the planchette moved, H A L L, and Carley froze.
"Wait wait wait," she was whispering now, running her hands through her hair, "you're the kid aren't you? The one at New Winston Town Hall that was known for the knocks and whispered? When I dressed up in a Victorian dress?"
Jerome nodded, slightly ashamed at himself for causing all of this. He had completely forgotten about the board until Carley gasped and his head shot over to her. She was staring at him. Not through him like everyone always did, but directly at him. He tentatively lifted his hand and waved, to which Carley copied and they both gasped.
"I can see you!" she almost screamed, "I... you're real. I wasn't crazy. You're actually real."
Jerome could see she was hyperventilating, and tried to tell her to calm down, but his words were falling on deaf ears.
"I can't... I can't hear you," she panted as Jerome came a little closer, a hand outstretched like he was trying to comfort her.
After this revelation, the session continued, but this time Carley could see Jerome's face as he concentrated on spelling each word. She also noticed how his mannerisms seemed to stop. The planchette was never rotated, and it never stopped above goodbye expecting the session to end. Both were much calmer now, like two friends talking, as Carley found out more about the ghost following her around. He told her he was 13, Victorian and died of small pox, but he also talked about personal things. About how his bother and sister were the kindest family he could ask for, and how his dad was a co owner of a successful business so his family had a good start in life, but also how his brother was left as an only child once he and his sister died, and he watched his family fall into obscurity as his dad lost his position, and with that, their money. It was sad to finally see Jerome, because now Carley could see how his smile fell as he communicated.
Soon, Carley was able to contact her friends again, choosing not to talk about Jerome but instead say she'd tackled her issue and was ready to come back to ghost hunting. Jerome stayed with her, now like a friend rather than a burden, though he didn't always follow her. He learned how to move around without being attached to someone and often stayed in the house while Carley was out, but he was always there for hunts, especially since the two had agreed that Jerome was NOT allowed to communicate with them. Carley could see him now, meaning she could also see when he was sneakily knocking on a door to create the illusion of another ghost. She couldn't understand why she started to see Jerome after the night they talked, but both were thankful she could in all honestly, and eventually, Carley decided to teach Jerome some sign language so they could communicate without needing a Ouija board.
