Sims 3 Ghost Story.
I saw him, the figure in black robes drift slowly towards the swimming pool where my dear husband now lay. No, please no, not this. He looked down and slowly shook his head. There was a swirl of blue tinted dust and then Sal stood in front of the black-robed figure, strangely transparent, rippling with blue as if he still lay at the floor of the swimming pool. Oh this is all my fault. I was the one who encouraged him to come swimming. He had hesitated and I had persisted, he hadn't told me he was hydrophobic and would be so likely to panic. I stood there, still dripping from my dip in the water, unable to do anything that would stop my husband and the black robed figure that I knew to be the grim reaper. I watched, horrified as they shook hands, then Sal became dust again and floated to a gravestone near the pool. The grim reaper turned to me and fear gripped my heart. I was staring death in the face, as if I was in a dream and couldn't wake up. He abruptly turned to black dust and I was left alone. Then it came. The crippling grief and sadness overwhelmed me as I sank to my knees before the gravestone. Hot tears flowed down my cheeks and it seemed there was nothing I could ever do to stop them. My heart had been torn in two. One half still lay at the bottom of the pool. The first thing I did was remove that wretched pool. I used all my strength to call the people to come and fill it in. After they had gone I allowed myself to completely give in to grief, sobbing and sobbing next to where his remains lay. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep right there.
A cool hand on my shoulder woke me. 'Tem. Tem wake up, I'm here.' Came his voice, slightly moaning and distant. I could not bring myself to look, fearing that his voice was part of my dreams. I felt myself being gently shaken, so I turned around. And started with horror. Sal stood behind me, transparent and glowing. He rippled with blue like he had done when he died. His hair had turned white and so had his eyes. It was scary to look at eyes with no irises. 'It's okay, I'm here.' He said again and held out his hand. 'Is this a dream?' I whispered, terrified, but relieved that I was seeing his face (sort of). He shook his head sadly and again offered his hand. He must be a ghost. Of course I'd heard the children's tales about the graveyard and how spirits floated there after dark. I looked at his hand. Could you touch a ghost? Tentatively, I reached out my hand and touched his. It was cool, almost wet and smooth as marble. It tingled when it came in contact with my skin, but he was definitely there. He pulled me upwards and held me. I never wanted to let go of him. Reality had come on so fast and I felt so helpless to what had happened I wept in his arms. He stroked my cheek with his cool hand and I realised my cheek was now slightly moist, not just because I had been crying.
We spent hours talking, laughing and crying. He told me to sleep in the day and keep myself busy so that I wouldn't notice him being gone. He promised he would come every night to see me, and stay as long as he could, but he always had to return to the Netherworld in the daytime. I nodded and hugged him. This house would seem so large without him, we planned on having children to fill it. But maybe we still could. I didn't tell him my thoughts but I was hopeful that we could try. It was approaching 4am and I knew he had to go soon, so I kissed him shyly, hoping he would not be as transparent as he looked. He wasn't and my lips were left tingling. I hugged him tight, but I felt something inside him shift, and he turned to dust in my arms, swirling in the wind and leaving me alone.