Another sunset, another night about to arise, another day filled with sadness. Sadness because I can't go back home. Depression from not being able to find the murderer. So much sadness because I'm dead.

My name is Sage. I was 17-years-old when I was killed. When I was killed, I became a ghost and had no idea who killed me. All I remember was going to school, cutting through an alleyway, being attacked from behind, and being stabbed until I died. I wasn't able to get a good look at the guy's face.

Now, I roam all of America to see if I can find out who killed me. Everywhere I've been, I've gotten little tiny clues of who my murderer is. However, none of this is enough for me to know exactly who they are.

I'm really thankful no one but psychics can see me. I'm a pretty gruesome sight. My short black hair is all messy and has blood in it, my blue eyes that use to be bright are now dark and dull with dark rings around them, my black T-shirt and pants are ripped up from the attack, my body is covered in multiple stab wounds, and my white skin is covered in blood. I know if someone saw me they'd run away. I've seen it many times.

It's been 50 years since the day I was murdered. It hurts me deeply to think I'll never find him. I have no idea how I'll rest peacefully without knowing my murderer's face. I've encountered many spirits and a lot of them seemed fine that they were ghosts. I don't understand how anyone would be okay being this kind of afterlife.

Tonight, I find myself wandering in an old abandoned junk yard. If I were still alive, I'd be scared as hell. You don't know what could be lurking around the corners of this place. All I've found so far were rats and bats trapped under car hoods. I use to be afraid of these creatures because I was worried about contracting diseases or rabies. I'm not saying because I'm dead I have no fear, it's because I'm overcome with sadness that fear slips my mind.

I wander around a little more before finding a man sneaking around behind the piles of cars. But, as I came closer, I noticed he was a ghost. He looked like he went through a rough death. He was covered in bullet holes and blood. Wonder what happened to him to get so many bullets lodged inside him.

"Hey, mister," I say in a monotonous voice. He looks up at me and sees my bloody form.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he asks rather annoyed.

"If I'm in your way, I'm nobody important. I was just coming through."

"When an adult asks you a question, you should be polite and answer it." I sighed. I could go through the arguement with him that I'm at least 57-years-old, but we can't all judge by appearences. Plus, he'd persist with the question and I'd have no choice but to answer. I told him my name, explian to him that I was murdered 50 years ago, and tell him I've been looking for my murderer in order to pass into the next life.

"Well, that's touching and all, but I've got some news for you. If it's been 50 years already, there's a likely chance you won't find your murderer."

"How come?"

"Because the police most likely gave up on your case and put it away to collect dust." I look down at the ground in sadness. So all these years of searching was a waste of time? What am I going to do now? Go back to my empty house and hope someone comes along so I can scare them? Maybe even have someone finally see me so they can bless me and I can go to Heaven? Who knows how long that'll take?

"I guess I'll leave so I don't waste your time, sir." I turn to leave but hear a huge crash at the gate. A big truck comes through and a lot of people appear from behind the gate.

"What's going on?" I ask him.

"I don't know, but they're going to die."

"How do you know that?"

"Because, kid, I'm going to kill them. I was a murderer when I was alive." Well, that's comforting. I just opened up to a dead serial killer. He was right, though. He started killing them off as they ran in fear. I walked a little closer to get a better view of everything. For some reason, I found myself wanting to sit in the huge see through box thing they had suspended in the air. I had a great view there.

Suddenly, there was some weird noise coming from a sound system. It sounded like someone saying a bunch of jibberish to me. Out of nowhere, the guy ran into the glass thing with me while carrying someone. He crushed the guy to death and blood went all over the walls and the closing door. That's when he realized we were trapped. That's also when one of the people noticed I wasn't suppose to be here. Of course, there was nothing they could do because if they let me out they'd have to let this guy out. Therefore, I was trapped in a glass box with a pissed off, dead serial killer.

"So, since we're stuck in here for God knows how long, how about we try to pass the time," the guy says.

"How?"

"Well, I haven't properly introduced myself. My name use to be Horace Mehoney but now I call myself the Juggernaut."

"Why do you call yourself that?"

"It's a long story. I guess since we'll be in here for awhile, I'll explain." I then become aware of the 12 ghosts and their link to this Black Zodiac.

Sometime later

We all watch as the last few construction workers leave. We watched in annoyance and wonder as they built this strange place under a very weird house. We were put together like a puzzle and left to ourselves to do whatever. Of course, the Great Child, the Dire Mother, the Juggernaut, and I were an exception to that. The last few guys leave and we all go back to doing what we did before they came here: Chatting with one another.

"God, I thought they'd never leave!" the Pilgrimise shouted, hitting the edge of her stocks against the glass.

"Tell me about it!" the Torn Prince said while hitting his bat on the door, "I wish I could get out of here and bash their heads open!"

"You and me both, kid," the Hammer remarked. I noticed the Withered Lover was all to herself as she looked down in sadness.

"Withered Lover?" I ask, "What's wrong?"

"I wish they chose someone else for this. I don't want to be a ghost. I want to watch over my husband and kids." I heard her story when I got here. She sounded like she had a nice life. I wish she didn't have to suffer like this either. Through her burn scars of her previous life, she is a really beautiful woman. Her husband and kids must've been so lucky.

I hear a scratching on one of the boxes and look over in its direction. There, the Jackal, was trying to scratch his way out. I was amazed he could actually scratch at something like that and feel nothing. He did the same thing as a human but that itself is surprising. He noticed me staring and started smirking at me. I turned away feeling a little embarrassed for some reason.

This has been happening ever since we were put into this basement. We did a little small talk and introduced ourselves but I always found myself staring at him and turning away as he stared back. I don't know what that meant and I wanted to ask but I was too shy. I finally got around to asking.

"How do you know if someone likes you?" I didn't think anyone heard but almost all eyes were on me once I asked.

"Why do you want to know that exactly?" the Juggernaut asked.

"No reason. I just remembered something from when I was alive and felt curious to ask."

"Well, I wouldn't know. I'm not the right person to ask."

"It's when people give you that certain look," the Bounded Woman said.

"What's that look?" I asked.

"It's hard to explain but you just know."

"That's not it at all!" the Angry Princess remarked, "It's when they start talking to you. You realize afterwards whether or not they like you or not."

"Oh, like you'd know?" the Bounded Woman argued, "All these guys you talked to ended up beating you!"

"Really now? I don't think you know either. You approached them first!" The two girls argued for a moment and I considered the fact that maybe I shouldn't have brought this up.

"I'll give you a guy's view on it," the Torn Prince suggested, "If they look at you and then shyly look away, that's when you know they like you."

"Back then, it was much more simple," the Hammer interrupted, "If they gave you a gift, it was plainly obvious."

"Hey Sage?" the First Born Son asked, "Was there someone you liked when you were alive?"

"Well, sort of."

"Who was it?"

"Was she pretty?" the Angry Princess asked, now finishing her arguement with the Bounded Woman.

"Well, that's the whole point. It wasn't a she." They all looked at me in either surprise or semi-shock.

"You... liked a... boy?" the Juggernaut asked.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"In your day?" the Torn Prince said, "Pretty much."

"Could that be why you were murdered?" the Pilgrimise asked.

"I was thinking that but I don't think anyone besides my parents and brother knew." Everyone was silent for a very long time, it was almost frightening.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you think one of your parents killed you?" the Dire Mother asked.

"No! They couldn't have! I mean, sure they were a little upset but not enough to hurt me or anything."

"What about your brother?" the Jackal asked. I was a little surprised he spoke, let alone suggested my brother of the horrible crime.

"He couldn't have! Why would you say that?"

"What was his reaction when you told him?" I thought about it for a few moments, remembering back to the night I told them.

"He had no reaction. He was just calm."

"Ah..." the Jackal said looking over at the other side of his wall.

"What? What does that mean?"

"He was hiding it, harboring his thoughts inside until he was able to find a way to release it."

"How do you know that?"

"I lived in a mental hospital. I picked up on a lot of things while I was in there." I thought back to the morning I was murdered while pacing. I was running late so I cut through an alleyway near the school. Suddenly, a masked man stabbed me from behind, causing me to fall to the ground. My neck was slit and I couldn't scream. I wouldn't die so he stabbed me over and over again. I was able to look up at him to find he had a ski mask on. I remembered as I was slipping away that his mask had a certain mark on it. A bleach stain. Mom accidentally got bleach on my brother's mask but he never threw it out.

"Oh my god, you're right," I whispered. Not only had I realized who my murderer was, I discovered that I was out of the box. I wasn't paying attention to my walking and ended up getting out somehow. How this happened, I have no idea.

"How did you do that?" the Bounded Woman exclaimed.

"I don't know. I guess it's because these things can only hold you in, not me."

"Well, you know what you have to do, right?" the Juggernaut asked.

"What?"

"In that room there is something keeping us all in. Figure out what it is so we can get out."

"O-Okay."