A familiar scene graces the walls of a run-down apartment in an Elmerton complex.
A vaguely human form fades through the wall, the smoke melting to the ground before solidifying into a small girl. She coughs roughly, as before, but only once- as the red mist seeps out of her throat.
Instead of collapsing, she braces herself against the couch, rubbing her sore throat gingerly. She staggers her way over to the refrigerator once she recovers.
The ghost stretches, movement mirrored to the countless other times this scene's been played out.
"Mmmm! Almost done, what a relief."
It stretches out across the couch and arches its back like a cat before turning its attention to the girl rummaging through the tiny kitchen.
She ignores the ghost as she slams the refrigerator door roughly and growls when items can be heard toppling over inside. The ghost watches the actions with dull interest.
"Y'know, I thought you'd be happy that we're almost done. It's much easier with the ghost boy-"
"I am relieved, but I'm not happy that I'm exhausted and starving." She turns to look at it. "It's still my body, it still has needs. I can't just exist by- by feeding off souls or whatever you do."
"Ah, sorry about that. Been a while since I've been human. A long while." It mindlessly picks at the pearls built up on the couch from countless years of use
"Yeah well, it's not like I don't tell you or anything, you just refuse to listen." She rubs her eyes and finishes making her meager meal. "Would it kill us to stop at some fast food place like, once a day? Please?"
"Well, it wouldn't kill anyone either way." The ghost gestures vaguely at her. "You aren't losing weight, and your body isn't weakening, you just feel tired and hungry."
She scoffs, gathering up the containers of food. "Yeah, well I feel like shit, which affects my mental state." She opens the fridge and a number of items topple out, causing her to groan.
"I imagine you could get used to it. You'll have to when we go to the ghost zone. I have to check up on some things and we may be there for a while."
"I'll just pack a bag." She picks up the items and returns them to the fridge. "Get a bunch of non-perishables- If you let me eat then I'd "be in a… less bad mood."
The ghost pauses, contemplates, and then nods.
"I apologize." It says. "For not taking your human body's needs into consideration."
Autumn looks at the ghost with an air of suspicion, slowly and quietly closing the fridge. "That's new." She mumbles. "Are you serious?"
"As I said before, I'm not one to lie, and I can't lie to you." It shifts it's tail onto the floor as Autumn takes a seat on the couch.
She takes a bite out of her sandwich. "You don't seem like the type to apologize- or really care. Especially to a human, I know how you feel about them- us."
"Well, ghosts change." It says. "Much less often than people, but they do. I suppose escaping from an eternal banishment would be something to trigger that change."
"You know, you're really dramatic." She takes another bite out of her meal. "Is that something that happens when you become a ghost?"
"Oh ha-ha." It responds. "I'll have you know that, while dramatic, it's exactly what happened."
Autumn chuckles and flips on the tiny tube TV, swapping through channels to find one not riddled with static. They sit in silence for a while, Autumn occasionally dozing off between bites and jerking back awake to the sound of commercial jingles. She looks out the window as a train goes by, noting the colorful sky of the setting sun. It probably hasn't even reached 6pm yet.
"God, I need to stay awake until at least 8 or something." She mumbles and rubs her eyes. "Gonna mess up my whole sleep schedule."
"Don't get too fond of your so-called sleep schedule, we're making house-visits to finish things off tonight."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. At least I can go unconscious when you take over." She gets up to make something more substantial to eat, pulling out pots and pans to make some sort of pasta. She draws back her hair once she gets the water on the stove, and leans on the wall to watch the ghost as it tries to decide between watching her or the television.
"So," she says to break the silence. "You were once human?"
"Hm?" It responds, turning its attention away from the TV. "Well, yes. Most ghosts were at one point. Some ghosts can be created in the zone, but I'm not one of them."
Autumn hesitates. "You know," she chokes out "you haven't really told me much about you. A lot of things about you." Another pause. "Like… how you became a ghost."
"So you're asking about my death?" It says, amused. "Bold, girl. Don't be worried, I'm not extremely sensitive about it. That's a fledgling problem, to be bothered by your own death."
"Uh, thanks. Sorry." She heads back to the kitchen to continue her cooking.
"Anyways, I died sometime near… huh…" it thinks for a moment. "The last year I remember absolutely living in is 1618. I know I lived for some years after that, but I don't recall how many."
"1618… so you've been a ghost for… almost 400 years?"
"While it might seem old by human standards, it's actually quite young for a ghost. Not immature, but young. Humans have existed for millennia, after all."
"So do you actually… remember living? One of the books I read said that they don't remember their human lives." She pulls various supplies out of cupboards.
"Well, that is a book written by humans about another entity. It's bound to be wrong in some places." It sighs. "But yes, it is marginally correct. I'm a… special case."
"Special in… what way?"
"I'd rather not say." It responds. "You won't be getting my life-story, my death-story, and all of the secrets between in one night."
She glances at it out of the corner of her eye and shrugs. "Fair enough, though you already know everything about me."
"I need to know everything about you to help you. There's no reason for you to know anything of me."
"Except," she says "for me to trust you."
"And that's why I'm telling you this now. This very personal topic for me. For anyone."
Autumn pauses for a moment, then nods, resuming her work.
"I'm sorry. Go on, please."
The ghost looks at her for a bit, then resumes. "I don't remember the year I died, but I remember… how. Bits and pieces, but enough to gather the truth."
It sighs, more as a gesture than a need for air. "I lived in a small town, I think somewhere in Northern Europe but I'm not quite sure. I don't even recall the name. We were well-off, merchants. I had a happy, cushy life. Not many difficulties at all, I don't think. Nothing of note, at least.
"We had heard of war, heard of troops marching across the country to capture villages, we even had some refugees migrate over to us as victims of the struggle. As did any city, we didn't think they would come our way. Some left, heeding the warnings, but some- like us, stayed.
"Those people- the victims, refugees whatever they're called, stuck out to me though. I remember looking at them, their tattered clothes, sickly complexion, and measly possessions. The sight of them is the first vivid memory I have. I suppose since that's when it all started."
Autumn quietly continues preparing her meal, respectfully listening to every word.
"They… came just shy of a week after that. An army, one that could easily take our entire town, lead by some fancy man in gilded armor. I bet he felt as if he was king of the world, marching in on his horse and holding a sword above the heads of unarmed villagers."
It shifts a bit on the couch, flicking its tail back and forth.
"He came through and stated in our broken language, 'Your food, beds, and women belong to us, else be slain where you stand.'- And you complain about my dramatics. Of course, we didn't have a choice but to give them what they wanted, yet they still killed a majority of our people."
It says the last line with a hint of mirth, and Autumn scowls.
"Glass houses." She coldly states.
The ghost scoffs. "Oh, you act as if I'm bitter. I know why they did it now, it's fun. Makes you feel strong, although they weren't really strong, slaughtering defenseless villagers. It's not fun without a fight of some sort."
"Funny, you don't strike me as the fighting type." She sticks a knife into a can of peeled tomatoes and stirs.
"Mental battles are still battles, my darling Autumn."
She rolls her eyes.
"Anyways, they come and go, and I'm still alive. My father didn't make it, however. Killed by attempting to hold onto our storage stock. A fool he was. I remember having to clean up his body and bury him with the help of my eldest brother. Aside from us, the town itself was desolate, left with crumbs to survive with for the rest of the season, they took everything they could from our people and left us with nothing.
"But still, we lived on. Our people began to band together, it even looked as if the little food we had would be able to sustain us for some time. People were still starving, but we didn't have very many dying. At least, until the plague hit.
"The soldiers brought it to us, clearly. It was a horrible thing, your body couldn't contain your own blood, which was almost black from whatever was infecting us, although I'll save you the more gruesome details. People were dying simply standing in line for meals, and soon not a care in the world was given for the living nor the dead. The river was poison, the only thing you could trust was rainwater, and you couldn't trust your own family from stabbing you in the back- literally and figuratively.
"Those few months were absolute hell. I was starving constantly, thirsty constantly, and eventually, I became sick as well. Not nearly as bad as some people, but you could always tell. You knew you weren't going to make it, yet I fought for a long while still, holding on to the shreds of life I had. How stupid I was.
"I died in agony, knowing that a few months ago I was perfectly content, perfectly happy, and knowing exactly who caused my suffering. It was easy enough for me to become a ghost after that. I'd honestly be more surprised if I didn't."
"Did… did a lot of people become ghosts from your town then? I'm sure you weren't the only one with such strong feelings."
It waves a hand dismissively. "I never sought them out, so I wouldn't know. All I remember is appearing in the ghost zone and just having this… need to find out what happened to my city and people, and our murderers after I died, so I went back. Found out the guy got promoted to Captain-General after doing that to countless towns across the land. Then, I came back. Not really sure what I was supposed to do then, but that's the long story of my human life! Not as exciting as you'd hoped, I imagine."
"No, no, it was… thanks for telling me, I appreciate it." She stirs the softening pasta slowly, the simmering pot the only sound filling the tiny apartment.
The ghost looks at her with a sly smile.
"You're disappointed."
"I'm not disappointed." She snaps back. "I just thought it would explain more about you than it did."
"Don't be alarmed, I'm not offended. And of course it doesn't explain much. I was alive for maybe, what- 20 years? I've been a ghost for 400, There's more to me than my life as a human- more to any ghost then it's life as a human. The ones who've lived 20,000 years ago likely don't even remember being alive. It's not a bad thing, it's natural. Heck, even our little halfa toy- do you think it'd pull people out of a burning building as a human? No, he'd sit and watch, perhaps meander out of the way of the smoke, perhaps."
"Well, it makes sense. He has powers, the ability to help people without risking his life-"
"And you think if he got these powers without becoming ghostly, he'd use them for good?"
She stops stirring her noodles and turns to face the ghost. "What does turning into a ghost have to do with anything? He, not it, is still the same kid."
"It has changed. As I said, your human life has little to no impact on a ghostly one. This is why I refer to myself as it, why I refer to other ghosts as it, ghosts are not and will never be human."
"That doesn't mean you talk about them like- like- an object!"
"Why are you so adamant on defending them?"
Autumn pauses and thinks, stuttering out a weak "It's, I'm- ugh, I'm not." Before asking herself that question a second time. She turns back to the stove.
Why did she care?
The ghost, sensing her confusion and frustration, stays silent. Whether she answers that question or not is irrelevant, ultimately. Although it was somewhat curious about the answer.
Autumn finishes her cooking and roughly slams the pots into the sink after pouring her bland yet filling meal into a reusable container. She takes the pasta into her bedroom despite the running TV in the living room to get some alone time, at least sitting with a book might calm her down enough to get some sleep before they had to do whatever that ghost was planning next.
She should really be more offended about the ghost not giving her at least a basic rundown of it's plan, or its goals, even. It was using her body for such a thing, but it claims to be helping her in the process, and she didn't want to risk losing the best chance she's got to achieve her own goal.
She pulls a worn out book from the stack beside her bed, careful to not topple over the rest of them precariously balanced on top. Failing at that, she rolls her eyes and opens the cracked, leather-bound tome to a marked page.
She couldn't understand a lick of what was written, but the illustrations combined with some interesting forms of Latin for ingredient names were more than enough to get her by. She studies the glyphs she'd analyzed countless times before and furrows her brow, turning to pull out another, smaller book from the pile next to her.
She opens the handmade journal and gently flips through to find a similar glyph drawn on one of the last pages in faded ink, this one clearly less archival than the book it sits beside. She drags a finger along the messy, yet legible notes scrawled in fluent Finnish, mouthing and translating the words as easily as breathing.
"Basic glyph of summoning, perhaps used once to beckon an ancient spirit, repurposed to target one specifically, whoever they might be- currently unknown. Family member?"
She swaps her attention to the ghostspeak tome and flips a few pages to find a collection of glyphs with notes beside each one that seems to describe their differences.
Or at least, that's what she imagines is written, not knowing the language.
She sighs and sets down the book, beginning to eat. She did have someone that could read ghostspeak, or she assumed they could, feet away, yet asking seemed like giving up in some strange way. She also didn't trust the ghost whatsoever, despite how much it's been opening up lately.
(She really couldn't decide whether to call the ghost an it or a they anymore. While it asked to be called it, the whole notion goes against some sort of… value she didn't know she had until now.)
She closes the books and sets them next to her bed, content with doing more of her own research once she got any sort of free time. Asking the ghost was a safety net, something she could do as a last ditch effort if she really couldn't figure out anything else on her own. Right now there were still more avenues to travel, so she'll wait on that option at least for a little bit.
She picks up another book and eats for a while, easily becoming distracted by the television's sound through the thin walls of the apartment. She doesn't hear the ghost moving around or messing with her stuff as it usually does when it gets bored, but it definitely didn't leave- she could still feel its presence.
It's almost like the buzz you get in the back of your mind when someone's standing right behind you. Whether that's a ghostly trait or proof of their mental link she couldn't say, but it made her gut squirm. A constant reminder that the path she took may have not been the right one, however good it may have seemed at the time.
She feels the presence shift, moving around the apartment and to her bedroom door. The ghost sticks its head through and looks at her, entering the room completely when she acknowledges it.
"Good evening, ah- I can take your bowl if you're done."
It floats over and picks her dishes up from the floor beside her mattress, lingering only enough to notice the fallen stack of books.
"You don't have to coddle me, you know," Autumn mentions, purposefully pulling its attention away from the pile. "I'm able to be alone for some time."
"I'm aware." It responds, directing its attention at her. "But I could feel your distress from the other room, I thought you might prefer the distraction."
"Define 'distress'?" She asks in a sour tone.
It shrugs. "At first frustration, irritation, anger- mostly directed at me mind you, but it eventually transitioned into loneliness." It pauses. "So I thought I'd see if I could help."
Autumn looks at the ghost suspiciously and it begins to leave, carrying the bowl with it.
"Wait." She says, and it freezes in mid-air. "Stay- or, um… come back. After you put that away."
"Are you sure?" It asks, likely being able to sense her hesitation in the statement. "I can stay in the other room if you like."
"No, it's… fine. Do you like reading?"
"I haven't read a book in decades, but I recall enjoying it at one time." It wanders out of the bedroom to stack the dish next to the sink, returning quickly. "What genres do you have?"
"Here-" She pulls out a number mythology and history books from the pile, notably leaving out any ghost-related ones. "I think I have a few that might interest you."