Disclaimer: You know the drill. The characters that you know don't belong to me. The characters that you don't know, do belong to me. Right now that's just Layla, but I'm sure there's more to come.
I have to give props to London1 for coming up with this idea on the Forum. This is what I came up with and I think it's a start to something pretty cool. Read and Review, let me know what you think.
Prewarning right now. There's a little BJ action in this first chapter, but mainly I wanted to build up Layla's situation. There will be major BJ action in Chapter 3 and after that. R&R!
Layla sat in the window and stared out. It didn't seem fair then and it still doesn't seem fair now. She should have never died that night, but she did. The bullet was meant for the man who had robbed the bank, but the police officer was nervous and his aim was off. She was merely a bystander walking out of the market place when the bullet struck her straight through the heart.
She was still angry at the way they made her sound in the newspapers. Layla McCormick, died from an accidental shooting at the age of twenty one, a spinster. She was an educated woman who happened to be over the age of eighteen and not married, so therefore she was labeled a spinster. It didn't matter that she spoke three languages and knew enough about other cultures to write her own books. She wasn't married, therefore she was worthless in the eyes of Society. She hated it, but since she was dead, there was nothing she could do about it.
She laid back and remembered the first time she stepped out of her house and stepped into Saturn. She was petrified when the creature came up and wanted to eat her. She was lucky that she was able to find the door back so quickly and not die again from being eaten.
When the first family moved into her house she felt violated, but she didn't really know what she should do. It seemed so wrong that random people could invade her privacy and come and go as they pleased when she couldn't even leave her home. She flipped through the book for the Recently Deceased, but it tell her much besides the fact that she would have to remain in her home for one hundred and twenty five years until she was released. All she wanted to do was to be left alone.
She eventually found her niche at haunting a few months in when she just couldn't take it anymore. The children could always see her, but she couldn't bring herself to scare little children so she didn't. She would wave and smile to them and when they saw her they'd wave back. Sometimes she would sit and talk with them and they would tell her their darkest secrets. Sometimes they were silly like one girl who knew that her doll was actually magical and others were dark, darker than anything she wanted to imagine or hear. Those who had the darkest secrets were protected by her, she gave them vengeance when they had none and would eventually run the people out of her house. She would have a few months of solace before the next family would move in and she'd have to start all over again.
She learned a few things over the years like when the new fashion trends would come out. She would use her powers to transform herself into what was fashionable. Just because she was dead and no one, but children could see her, didn't mean she had to look like she was dead. When television came out she was fascinated and would sit and watch it for a little bit. It was amazing to see things come alive in the small box. After one family left in a big hurry they left their television and she took it up to the only part of her house where she felt comfortable.
The attic was her sanctuary that kept her sane over the years when the families would be downstairs remodeling and redecorating her house. She couldn't stand watching her house be destroyed so she kept the attic as haunted as possible. Eventually she began to lose track of the years and it wasn't until Autumn of the year 2007 that she realized that she only had one more year to go before she was free.
She sat in a small corner of her space for days just thinking about what she was going to do when she was released from her house and wander around the afterlife without fear. She had a permanent smile for weeks after that, giving the family that was living in her home a rest for a while she floated around. At least she still had her good looks. Just because she had never been married when she was alive didn't mean that she was never asked. She simply chose her studies over any sort of relationship. It had taken her a while, but about twenty years or so after she died and she had nothing to do, but think she came to the realization that she never had a relationship because she was deathly afraid that no one would want her. She closed herself off and just thought of herself as a pretty package with not a lot inside except for random facts.
She might not have been able to see herself in the mirror, but she did remember what she looked like before she died. That was the best thing about being dead. She loved the fact that she would never age and see herself grow old as wrinkles and age spots came. She noticed that her skin had a blue tinge to it, but she'd always been pale, so she didn't mind too much. She did remember that her eyes were a red violet, sort of plum color and was always told that they were exotic. Sometimes when she would walk by she would hear the word "witch" from other women. She just ignored them and kept her head held high.
When she realized she would be able to leave the house the thing that she was the most excited about was able to see other ghosts and be able to talk to them. She was starved for some actual conversation with someone who was older than five. Even though it seemed a little silly, even to herself she began to wonder if ghosts dated and got married to each other. A part of her regretted closing herself off when she was alive and that part was growing as the loneliness sat in. She was almost one hundred and fifty years old and maybe it was time that she let someone else in. The only thing that worried her was the thought that maybe she was too late and she wouldn't know how to.
The house was empty for some time now and she was enjoying the peace and quiet. Not having to haunt for a while and watch some television. She curled up in her chair and watched a few shows that she'd seen a hundred times before she fell asleep.
Beetlejuice stared at the woman as she slept, curled up in the chair in the most uncomfortable position he'd ever seen. How she was able to fall asleep in that position, he'd never know. He'd been checking up on her from time to time ever since she was newly dead. He always loved it when he found pretty ones and this one was definitely a looker. He first came across her when he could feel her frustration and fear when she had first died and the first family had moved into her home. He was just about to leave her his calling card when her anger erupted and she'd managed to scare them away herself. After that she didn't need any help and managed to do her job. She was a strong one, keeping most people away and he had to admit that she was actually pretty good.
He couldn't help himself though and throughout the years he'd pop back in on her and see whether or not she'd changed. Now that she was asleep he could look his fill of her, which he did. He never smoked around her, not because he wanted to be polite, but because he knew that she would smell the smoke and wake up and he didn't want her to.
Now that it was the twenty first century she was dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans, black button up blouse and a pair of black leather boots, simple and clean, her style mixed with the new trends. Every time he'd popped in on her she was either in black or white, very little color and the color that she did wear was dark. It suited him just fine as he dusted off his own black and white striped suit. He loved the color of her hair, so deep it was almost black, but not quite. It was the darkest red that he'd ever seen, so dark that it shimmered like blood at night and it moved him. Her delicate features and sleek body appealed to him the most. She wasn't very tall, maybe five feet five inches if she stretched, but not much more and she was curvy. He could tell the moment he'd seen her for the first time. He loved curves on a woman, not just straight up and down like a plank of wood.
She had a sort of athletic body, toned and flat. It looked like she'd spent years running, but he knew that wasn't the case. It must have been all that work trying to get into the getup she had to wear when she was alive. The only thing he didn't know about her was the color of her eyes, her name and what she was like when she wasn't angry or upset.
He wondered if he'd ever get to know those things about her as he faded away. He felt her coming out of her sleep and stirring. He didn't want her to catch him staring at her while she was asleep. He was glad to see that she had embraced the changes over the years, unlike a lot of ghosts who clung to their own time period with a vengeance. Then again, if he was forced to wear a corset and bustle he'd want to change out of it too.