So those were my ghost stories. Each one became a turning point in my life and affected me in its way.

The first one introduced me to the world of the supernatural.

The second showed me the dangers of that world.

It was the second one that had a bigger impact on me if I were, to be honest.

As I said at the start of this story, what I experienced that night three years ago still haunts me to this day.

Don't get me wrong, life went on and I recovered from the injuries I received from the encounter, with only a scar left to prove that it even happened.

I also got really close to Buffy, who stayed with me during my recovery process, and we ended up falling in love and eventually got married, in case you were wondering.

So overall, the experience wasn't all that bad.

However, every now and again, I still look back at that night with fear and confusion.

Spirits weren't supposed to be evil. As my grandmother told me. They were misunderstood beings that needed help, and I was to provide that to them.

But the spirit I encountered that night was so different.

He was filled with so much anger and hate and his lust to cause pain still sends shivers down my spine and never fails to make the scar on my brow itch, whenever I thought about what he did to me. He wanted me and many people dead.

If that wasn't a sign of being evil, then I don't know what else would be.

But then again, maybe it had a deeper reason for it.

I still remember that one single moment when the spirit looked like it was considering my offer to help it. The memory of their emotions ingrained in my mind.

Sadness. Regret.

Those were two emotions that I wouldn't associate with someone evil. And that made me wonder what it wanted.

Another thing that got to me whenever I think back on that night was the ghost's appearance. Why on earth did it look the way it did?

Everyone told me that the entity Dawn summoned wasn't a ghost, but a real demon because of its appearance, but I knew in my gut that it wasn't the case.

Appearance aside, I was quite certain that the ghost was human.

Spirits give off energy that is similar to living humans. It's why I can identify a ghost's emotions because they are so similar to humans.

If that spirit wasn't human, I wouldn't have been able to identify what he was feeling, and it would've been like reading an animal, where I would sense nothing from it.

Since I sensed emotions from it, bad emotions, mind you. That meant it was human.

But why did it look the way it did? Did its evil intentions have anything to do with it? Was it born that way? Or were souls able to change once they got to the afterlife?

Such thoughts plague me to this day because unless I spoke to the ghost again, I knew that they would all remain unanswered.

And that's what's killing me.

I nearly died that night and yet I had no idea for what reason. That night left lasting scars on me, not just on my face but on how I view spirits in general.

Since that day, I had become apprehensive about ghosts that I see and speak to because in the back of my mind I would often wonder if they would act like that spirit and if they too would get red skin and yellow eyes if they were left too long without any assistance.

And I hate it.

That spirit left me changed and I will never be able to learn why.

(O.O)

Beyond the veil of the living, below paradise and limbo, lies a place of fire.

In this infernal land, screams of men and women can be heard. Pain and torment run rampant there. The wicked shall never know rest.

In the deepest corner of this hell, a certain spirit does dwell. He once was a man, who sought beauty in all and earned the ire of many for his vanity.

So when the devils gained his soul in death, they changed his appearance. A harrowing existence was his for eternity, with a face of a demon he despised.

But then he gained a short reprieve and was able to escape this fiery land of suffering. A moment's freedom he received, through the hands of a motherless child that was grieving.

He gained a body that was his to use and he was ready to relive the life he once led.

But a meddling man came into the picture and ruined all his fun. This man had a way of sending him back to that place where he was on the run.

He tried to scare him away, but the man kept coming back.

And in his last visit, with the aid of another spirit, the vain man was returned to his cell in hell.

Now back in the land of pain and suffering, his jailers were twice as sadistic. Whips and knives were not their only toy in their arsenal, but he was sentenced to more time in the pool of fire.

As his screams echoed along those in that place, one name was on this spirit's lips. The man who sent it back there, the ghost cursed that man's existence and vowed that if given a chance, he would repay him for this tenfold.

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End

(O.O)

So, that's the end of this fic and my attempt at horror stories. Sorry if it wasn't that scary. There are specific artwork for this story found in my EF and AO3 account inside a fic with the same title as this one. I do most of of writing in those sites and only update when I have time and because this was the site that introduced me to fanfiction. Thanks for reading and I do appreciate reviews.