#SOLOMON LITERALLY CAN NOT BE DESCRIBED AS A SIDE CHARACTER ANYMORE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kawaii-puncher · 4 years ago

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Character Chart

Character’s full name: Vera Ward/Draoskithe

Reason or meaning of name: Ward because she's an orphan and thats the last name they get, Draoskithe is her family name but she doesnt know that

Character’s nickname: Sparkles

Reason for nickname: She likes sparkles

Birth date: Nov. 9th

Physical appearance

Age: 23

How old does he/she appear: 23 but she probably looks 18

Weight: 156

Height: 5'7"

Body build: Fierce

Shape of face: I don't know enough about human anatomy

Eye color: Light Blue

Glasses or contacts: Nah she can see it all, 20/20

Skin tone: Pasety Sour Cream Child

Distinguishing marks: Birthmarks on her back that look like scars

Predominant features: Beautiful

Hair color: Pink

Type of hair: Soft, Long, and wavey

Hairstyle: That half up hairstyle but mostly down

Voice: uuuuuuhhhhhhhh

Overall attractiveness: 10/10, professional at the smolder

Physical disabilities: Super Clutzy and a Bad Ankle

Usual fashion of dress: Fancy

Favorite outfit: A turtle neck, cute skirt, leggings and cute shoes

Jewelry or accessories: Always wears a pair of black cross earrings

Personality

Good personality traits: Super kind and wnats to help everyone

Bad personality traits: Stubborn af

Mood character is most often in: Idk how to explain the mood, basically when youre in the whiney "whhhhhhhy" mood

Sense of humor: Cheesey Jokes

Character’s greatest joy in life: Dazzling the Room

Character’s greatest fear: Silence and complete darkness

Why?

Its creepy and unsettling

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?

Death Probably

Character is most at ease when: Spa Days or playing video games

Most ill at ease when: Someone is belittling her or treating her like she's an idiot

Enraged when: She thinks she did something great and is really proud and someone is like "well its not that great"

Depressed or sad when: Toy Story 3

Priorities: School/Education are at the top

Life philosophy: "Fuck it"

If granted one wish, it would be: To see a real life unicorn

Why?

Have you seen unicorns???

Character’s soft spot: She almost cried when looking at some kittens once

Is this soft spot obvious to others? No because shes allergic to a lot of animals (not all) so she stays away from them

Greatest strength: Thumb War and great at Lying

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Parent Issues cause orphan

Biggest regret: Letting someone get close enough to her to break her heart and hurt her that badly, only she's allowed to put herself through that much pain

Minor regret: Saying yes to paying extra for rum in her milkshake on her 21st birthday

Biggest accomplishment: Not punching someone she really wanted to punch and just walking away. Also getting on the deans list

Minor accomplishment: Submitted art to a competition and heard some little old ladies talk about how much they loved her piece

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: Didn't know Reindeer were real until Highschool. Always thought they were made up like Santa. Also didn't know that you weren't supposed to eat mango skin the first time she had a mango, got weird looks

Why? Not street smart

Character’s darkest secret: She wishes she could just act out and destroy and break a bunch of stuff but she always feels like she needs to be on her best behavior

Does anyone else know?

No, its a secret

Goals

Drives and motivations: To be successful in life

Immediate goals: Good grades in school

Long term goals: Have a private lake and drink wine all day, relaxed

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Work Hard

How other characters will be affected: she doesnt hang out all the time and puts school above everything

Past

Hometown: Seattle

Type of childhood: Grew up in a catholic orphanage

Pets: None

First memory: Crying because she tripped and a nun gave her candy and told her to keep it a secret between them

Most important childhood memory: Being told that she was still in the orphange not because no families wanted her but because the lord knew she was already with the family that would love her the most (it was nuns that told her that)

Why: Made her feel wanted

Childhood hero: She-ra

Dream job: To be a Journalist

Education: Highschool Grad, working on a bachelor's in college

Religion: Catholic but super chill about it

Finances: Not even enough for a chicken nugget

Present

Current location: Devildom

Currently living with: The Brothers

Pets: Does Mammon count?

Religion: Still catholic but now with a lot of Jesus puns

Occupation: Student

Finances: Still not enough for a chicken nugget

Family

Mother: Unknown to her but the name is Alice Draoskithe

Relationship with her: none

Father: Unknown to her but his name is Quincy Jameson

Relationship with him: None

Siblings: Half Brother on fathers side named Quincy Jr.

Relationship with them: None/ Jealousy later on

Spouse: None

Relationship with him/her: it would probably be good

Children: She accidentally killed a bamboo plants she cant be trusted with kids

Other important family members: Not family family but she grew up with 4 other orphans that were her best friends and Sister Helen was her favorite nun

Favorites

Color: Baby Blue and Gold

Least favorite color: Orange

Music: Legit all kinds but mostly a fan or Alternative Rock

Food: Mini Cupcakes are her favorite

Literature: Tess of the d'Urbervilles is her favorite novel, she wears a red bow from time to time because of it

Form of entertainment: Video Games or Drawing

Expressions: Happy? Honestly dont know about this one

Mode of transportation: Walking

Most prized possession: Her cross earrings

Habits

Hobbies: Drawing, reading, games, or gardening but shes really bad at it

Plays a musical instrument? No but she can play twinkle twinkle little star on an organ

Plays a sport? Please no

How he/she would spend a rainy day: Watching the rain and day dreaming

Spending habits: Clothes and Hair brushes

Smokes: nerds in games

Drinks: Wine. A Lot.

Other drugs: Edibles are cool

What does he/she do too much of?

Drinking

What does he/she do too little of?

Relaxing

Extremely skilled at: Organization

Extremely unskilled at: Gardening

Nervous tics: Nervously curls hair around finger or hums

Usual body posture: Confident

Mannerisms: Very Polite

Peculiarities: Always moving her hands and can't sit still, bites her lip a lot

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? Optimist

Introvert or extrovert? Introvert

Daredevil or cautious? Cautious when sober

Logical or emotional? She acts like she's more logical but 100% more emotional

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Neat freak

Prefers working or relaxing? Working

Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Confident af

Animal lover? Yes

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: Doesn't belong wherever she goes but she can act like she does, but deep down she knows she doesn't

One word the character would use to describe self: Hopeful

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: I'm invited because I'm fun to be around but thats just an act and it's not really me... or is it? I don't know anymore

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Second Chances are always accepted

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? She allows second chances to everyone

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Really pretty hair

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Dry skin

How does the character think others perceive him/her: they exist

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: their personality to fit what they think is right

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: Theyre pretty cool

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? When sober

Person character most hates: Elliot (an ex) and Henry ( the little shit that stole her cookies all the time in the orphange and lied about it but she knows it was him)

Best friend(s): Asmo and Mammon

Love interest(s): Lucifer and Solomon

Person character goes to for advice: Literally anyone, all opinions help her because she has no idea

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Herself

Person character feels shy or awkward around: Lucifer

Person character openly admires: Lucifer

Person character secretly admires: Solomon

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: No one

After story starts:

I HAVE NO CLUE

Got this from here

#obey me

4 notes · View notes

infinitehours · 5 years ago

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Chapter 5

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you didn’t heed The Ghost Host’s warning about flash photography and too many bright lights?

What a coincidence; so have I!

Hello and welcome to part 2 of my Ted Talk series, “Let’s Torture Karen For Fun”. Thank you all for joining me here.

Oh. I should mention that this is the “scary” chapter. As in, it probably won’t frighten you, but it is a bit creepier than the other chapters.

There’s a character based off of a face character in Epcot in this chapter. This particular face character I’ve always thought was some kind of spirit when I was younger, hence why they’re referenced here.

Also, you’re going to start to see signs of the references I’ve put in to both the Phantom Manor and the Phantom of the Opera (only natural since the book/musical inspired the Phantom Manor).

Additionally, I wanted to explain/reference the two mansions and why only one has the aging man portrait in the foyer.

Van Winkle was an actual delegate back around that time; I may go back and change it to a fake name later. As well as maybe edit this chapter later. If anyone can give me tips and pointers, that would be appreciated.

Also I apologize for the really terrible art. I will probably go back and edit them later.

~~~~

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

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Table of Contents Link

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Ch 5: Poor Unfortunate Souls

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”If you want to cross a bridge, My Sweet, You’ve got to pay the toll.”

-Ursula, Disney’s The Little Mermaid

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Cautiously, she began to climb the stairs. They were going up; not down to where Michael presumably was, but she could swear that statue was going to spring to life at any moment and jump her. And she couldn’t bear to be around when that happened.

On the next floor was another hallway, this time it was framed with doors lining either side as far as she could see.

No, literally. She could not see the end of the hallway.

It seemed to go on for miles and miles; if there even WAS an end to it, it was certainly well out of the visual range of any human being.

Who the heck would even make a house like this?

There was not a soul in a sight, but there was creaking throughout. The walls creaked, the floors creaked; Karen just hoped it was the house settling.

She muttered disgruntled strings of sentences insulting the Ghost Host as she turned at a junction reached for what she had hoped was the light switch for that next set of hallways.

The old fixtures of the chandeliers above her were sluggish in illuminating her surroundings. That wasn’t too comforting when there were shadows at one side that she couldn’t quite account for, but relief came when this turned out to be merely another table with papers.

Out of curiosity (and because it couldn’t possibly make her anymore lost than she already was), she briefly shuffled through them.

Among the items that caught her eye was a newspaper. It was faded in several places, but the words of one particular headline stood out.

“LION EATS MAN

On this morning, officers of the law have found what is believed to be the half eaten remains of local man, one Mr. Hugh Hudson. Mr. Hudson had been reported missing by his cousin and overseer, Mr. Jefferson Lewis of the textile company Williams Textiles, just earlier today, when he had neglected to show for work or respond to visitations to his home. Mr. Hudson frequently suffered from unseemly bouts with the bottle, and it was under such influence that it was believed that he had happened across the grounds of the traveling Circus, The Museum of the Weird.

Although initially a suspect in this terrible tragedy, ------, the owner and ringmaster of the circus”

Karen squinted her eyes, but the name wasn’t faded but deliberately blacked out.

“Although initially a suspect in this terrible tragedy, -----, the owner and ringmaster of the circus has cooperated in full with authorities and was henceforth released from suspicions. He expressed his opinion that exceptional drunkenness was a type of evil, second only to lecherous behavior, and that such tragedies were an inevitable consequence of Mr. Hugh’s choices.

No evidence has been found that would implicate foul play. Officers of the law have investigated and determined that the methods by which the scene happened involved Mr. Hugh hefting himself over the fencing using a nearby ladder. After which, becoming trapped when there was method of climbing on the other side. Authorities are working with the assumption that the remains are, indeed, Mr. Hugh, in spite of the condition they are, which is to say, in rendered completely unidentifiable, as there was a bottle of his favored heavy wet near the beast’s cage. And, furthermore, on the good logic that none others in town have been found to be missing.”

Lion. Unidentified body. And again, that Museum of the Weird.

Karen looked at the date. 1879. Was this the same event that the other letter she had found described?

Underneath the paper were more letters. She opened a few, but most of them had names she didn’t recognize. Until she came across one addressed to ‘A Mr. James Bartholomew Gracey’.

Gracey. That was the surname of the other letter author. She opened it up.

“Mr. James Bartholomew Gracey,

You had wrote previously expressing interest in our convention that took place in Wheeling; I write to you now that we shall hold a second convention on the 11th of June. Ordinarily, only delegates are meant to attend, but as you have previously provided a great service for many of our members I do not think that your presence will incur an uproar.

Take care, my friend. For there have been rumors of late of those who wish to secede stirring trouble in towns. I recognize that you have a certain attachment to your estate, and I do not contest it is very much your birthright, but I urge you to consider relocating closer to Parkersburg, where you could be among the many who share your sentiments. At the very least, I pray you take care until this war reaches its conclusion.

Sincerely,

P. Van Winkle”

This one didn’t have a year date or any other identifying features, but it mentioned a war.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. This was going to be a headache and a half to make sense of any of this, and likely wouldn’t even get her any closer to finding Michael.

Gracey. Given that she was finding so many letters with that surname, and given that Solomon’s portrait was hanging prominently in the foyer, she’d have to guess that the family lived in this mansion at some point.

She frowned when she went back to staring at the letter. Why was it…darker…?

Looking up, it seemed to have escaped her notice that the hallways she came from were now nearly black. Goosebumps prickled over her arms and neck.

Someone had turned off the lights.

And, judging from the human sized shadow that stood in the murky darkness: that ‘someone’ was still there.

“H-hello?” She asked in a voice much smaller than she’d intended.

The only sounds she could hear was the echoes of a door slamming off somewhere in a distant part of the house. The shadow didn’t change its position.

“Michael?” She said, a little too hopefully. But he would never have pulled a prank like this; she knew that even before she was met with silence once again.

“G-Ghost Host?”

Not a sound. This was likely too subtle for someone as show-offy as he was.

“Please….won’t you….won’t you say something? I can see you, you kn-”

THE SHADOW SUDDENLY LURCHED, JERKY INHUMAN MOVEMENTS COMING CLOSER COMING TO HER

She screamed and turned and fled. Down the hall in the opposite direction, she came across even more intersections and just blindly went down another and another, turning on the light switches as she went because she couldn’t stand to be left in the dark with whatever the heck that thing was.

[Frightfully sensitive to bright lights]

She winched. There it was again, a thought floating to the surface of her mind that distinctively did NOT belong to her. Unlike with the memory of Solomon, this thought didn’t gradually come upon her but was instead thrusted into the forefront of her mind. And complete with an unwanted sense of anxiety to boot.

She dared to look behind her, and despaired to find that the hallways she left were already dark again. Getting desperate and running out of breath, she grabbed the first few things she could find, another table and an unlit candelabra, and positioned them under the light switch so that the prongs of the candelabra held the switch on.

Karen didn’t actually think this was going to do much, but as she went to the next hallway she witnessed the candelabra shake. On its own. Violently, at first, but as she stared, the object moved less and less frequently until it stopped. The light switch remained on.

She sighed in great relief, hoping to all heck that whatever it was, ghost or not, that it had given up its attempts. The shadow certainly didn’t seem prepared to peep around the corner without the darkness there, so for all points and purposes it had worked.

Frightfully sensitive to bright lights…Had that been some kind of hint? Was she somehow peering into the desires of another being? Or was it a purposely sent message? Did the shadow really think she was going to turn off all the lights and allow herself to be at the mercy of a creature she knew nothing about?

She shook those thoughts away. It didn’t matter anymore; a quick glance at the candelabra confirmed it was still there, keeping the lights safely on. And so long as they were on, she apparently needn’t do anything about the shadow.

Another table. Another pile of assorted papers. She’d have briefly scanned over them and just kept moving, as she didn’t want to risk the shadow getting brave, but the top ones….

…Were etchings of the two different types of houses she had seen when they first came across this place.

Just like how she’d seen before. EXACTLY.

One was a Southern style house, with a flat roof and four large Roman-esque pillars surrounding the front door. There was a second story veranda that wrapped around the entire house, with iron wrought bannisters that looked just as decorative as they were practical. Though the etching was in black and white, she recalled from her previous contact that the building was mostly white and looked like it was made of paneled painted wood.

The other was in a style she’d seen around really old houses in mostly the Northeast. A brick building, with roofs slopping at sharp angles and a decorative turret with many decorative toppers scattered on key points of the roof. One of the most notable and visible points of interest was a glass room on the side that formed a half circle before fusing into the rest of the building.

Underneath these was a note.

“Mr. Solomon Gracey,

Apologies, but I am afraid I have no answers for you again. Though we have had a thorough investigation, the authorities have not been able to locate the evil persons who had accomplished the fire set to your home. Many of us have the opinion that the fire was a joint effort by many persons, who were eager to take advantage of your late father’s passing and your current absence. And that Mr. Wyatt Williams may be involved. As there were no fatalities, we thought it wise to let the matter drop; granting, of course, that you do not wish to press further.

As requested, the style of the new exterior will be a marked difference from your original inheritance. You recall your acquaintance in Pennsylvania, for whom you had favorably mentioned his newly completed estate some three years prior? We were able to coax Mr. Asa Packer, the architect of that estate, for advice.

You will be pleased, but likely as puzzled as we were, to know that much of the core inner rooms had remained perfectly intact. Indeed, it was because so many rooms were unscathed that injuries and deaths were prevented. The resulting consequences should be that it will not take more than a handful of years to fully complete her, as only really the outmost rooms and outside appearance need be worked on. And, of course, we will extend the conservatory in accordance to your previous wishes. I believe I can speak on behalf of my sister and say that the promise of this particular expansion delighted her.

I hope I am not out of line in the choice of my next words, but know that it is out of concern for your safety that I state them. Stay at the University. The town has been broiled over with unrest as of late, perhaps due to the circumstances by which our new President was elected. Coupled with the unpopularity of the Gracey family among the townspeople, returning now may only elicit additional responses against the estate before it has even reached completion.

Besides which, your presence is not needed for the reconstruction, and I offer my assurances that myself and the rest of staff will make do with the family townhouse in the meantime. We will take care; you needn’t express such worry as you’ve have.

Regards,

Edgar Galloway”

She looked back down to the pictures but they were go-

She was standing somewhere else again.

It was….it was the foyer. And the man standing in front of her…

Solomon Gracey.

There were two rows of people before him. On the right, was a row of maids in the green, pinstripe dress she had seen before on both Nell and the maid from the other memory-dream. On the left, was an apparent row of butlers. They, too, were dressed in a deep forest green, albeit as a suit. They had a pinstriped vest of a more grayish-purple color under their open jackets with a row of golden buttons, and a black tie around their neck. Both sides were standing rigid as if at attention.

As a butler took hold of Solomon Gracey’s hat and outer coat, she could hear one of the maids whisper to the other ‘You’re right. He is quite handsome in person. That portrait hardly does him justice!’

At the other end were a maid and butler pair; they seemed to be in charge, because the maid silenced the other two with a harsh glare.

Solomon, for his part, smirked in good humor. ��“Thank you. I’ll consider that a compliment.”

And the maids, upon being found out, couldn’t help but giggle in both embarrassment and relief until the head maid interrupted them with a cough.

Head maid and butler stepped forward to greet him. Both had similar shades of hair, a deep raven black. The woman’s was longer and had been tied in the back to be plaited into a single braid. The man’s was cut very short and side swept at the front, but there was still much left on the sides that it would have just covered his ears if he hadn’t had it swept behind them. Both, too, had cloudy grey eyes.

“Welcome home, sir.” The head maid said.

“Thank you. It is good to be back. Despite…” His face fell as he surveyed the room, “Well, despite everything.”

“We did do our best, sir, to organize the reconstruction and recreate many of the rooms.” The butler said. “But there were limitations-“

“I know, Edgar. I do thank you all for the effort and the willingness to stay despite the hardship this must have brought.”

“How was the University?” Edgar said.

“Boring. It was everything I had hated from the academy plus the addition of an overbearing school administrators that paraded the grounds as though it were their battlefield. The amount of posturing would have you nauseated. But at the very least, I’ve passed the bar and can now open a practice.”

He stopped short when he came upon his own likeness up above the fireplace.

“Oh, is this the previously mentioned portrait?” He turned to Edgar and the head maid with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. “What on Earth were you thinking?”

“Sir, we thought it would be wise to have your portrait displayed prominently for guests who may come to call upon us.” The maid replied, giving even Solomon a pointed look of warning. “It would do much to send a message that, despite your youth, you are indeed the current, true master of Gracey manor.”

“Indeed, a wise choice,” Solomon agreed, still smiling. “But couldn’t you have commissioned someone who displayed my chin a little LESS prominently?”

The maids fell into a giggling fit again, and the butlers seemed threatened to join them, but a clap from both overseers put them back into line again.

…..

Karen could feel the scene fade away; this time, the change was much more obvious.

The hallway returned. The pictures and letters returned.

This…this was the same house.

Plink. Plink.

She picked up the two drawings and placed them side by side.

Plink. Plink.

The same exact house, just at two different points in time.

Plink. Plink.

Most of the same inner rooms, just a different exterior.

Plink. Plink.

Is that why she saw BOTH when they were approaching the mansion?

Plink. Plink.

Wait….What….

Plink. Plink.

….was that sound?

She looked up from the table….only to realize, in horror, that the other end of the hallway was dark.

And the shadow was waiting there.

Plink.

Shards of small glass came down from one of the above light fixtures, and the room grew a shade darker. It was then that it dawned on her, fresh goosebumps rising, what the shadow intended to do.

PlinkPlinkPlink.

Three lights tauntingly broke all in quick succession. The shadow was halfway down.

[Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire.]

Another unwanted thought. Wrapped in fear and anxiety.

She fled again further down the hall.

[Catching up. Catching up.]

Another corner. Again, again.

PlinkPlinkPlink.

But this corner had a stop.

Stop around the corner. There was no place left to go.

[Catching up. Catching up.]

PlinkPlinkPlink.

There was no more hallway left, only rows of doors that led to a door at the end.

Can’t go back. She’d run right into the shadow.

[I SEE YOU]

Try one. Try two. Why are all of these doors locked?

PlinkPlinkPlink.

Finally. The door at the end.

She opens it and slips through.

PlinkPlinkPlink.

She looks around for the light switch. A single bulb in the center of the room, dangling from a thread.

She closed the door behind here and learns the hard way why this door wasn’t locked.

It was because it didn’t have a lock.

The sounds of breaking bulbs gets closer.

She opts to put her weight against the door.

Only just to register what’s actually IN this room.

…..

Coffins.

There are coffins in this room.

Why were there coffins in a storage closet?

Piled high, undecorated, unpainted. Just plain wooden coffins.

She doesn’t have time to think about it; already the door is pushing her back.

Keep it closed. Keep it closed.

Digs her heels in, gaining leverage to force the door closed again.

She manages to find the perfect spot to put her feet.

It will close for sure.

Keep the pressure up.

But the lightbulb, the lightbulb. The single lightbulb.

It was already flickering.

Please don’t go out. Please don’t go out.

The shapes of the shadows of coffins dance in the flickering light like an old movie.

Sometimes, they seem to move.

Please don’t. Please don’t.

The pressure against her back again.

Her hand in her pocket. It curls around the ring.

The ring in her pocket she’d forgotten about.

The ring, the ring….

The water.

She was standing up near the water. Someplace in town near the water. She couldn’t recognize where.

The fear. Nauseating fear, it didn’t go away.

A woman was there. That woman. It was from the first memory. The maid and the boy and the angry young man. But she wasn’t wearing a maid’s uniform. And she was scared.

Yes. So scared. Please.

“Rolly!” She cried, stumbling in the darkness. Her blonde hair fell in curls about her neck, and her eyes were a dull grey-blue.

Why was it dark?

That’s right, because it’s nighttime.

But we were in a closet….weren’t we?

“Rolly! Rolly please!”

Please save me.

Someone. Please help me.

“Good evening.”

Both of them turned to see. That wasn’t Rolly….that….that voice….

A man dressed in all black. He was almost impossibly tall and thin, his face covered by a grotesque, demon-like mask.

The mask had horns, it looked like it was screaming, and there was a crack on the right eye socket of the mask which displayed the unusually large eyeball the man had. An eyeball that held a color electrifyingly blue; a shape and size and color that was so different from his ordinary looking left eye.

Almost instictively, she wanted to run at the sound of his voice.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?? Do you-do you want to hurt me??”

“Would you take comfort in hearing me say ‘no’?”

Run.

Run off into the town; after all, it was right there. But she was held into place.

Couldn’t move.

….

…This was the Ghost Host. Seeing the Ghost Host having an actual, physical form. Not merely a voice floating on the wind. And all back when he was alive.

“What….what do you want, then?” The woman anxiously looked at him, but also kept looking around her. “Rolly? Rolly are you near? Please, Rolly!”

“He cannot hear you.”

“Why?? What have you done with him??” She was frantic.

“Why I’ve done nothing, Miss Slater. It is Miss Slater, correct?”

“How do you know that?!”

“I know someone who knows things. And I happen to know that your friend has traveled the next town over in search of some work.”

“He…..he wouldn’t. Not without telling me.”

“Are you so sure, Madame? And even if he was here, are you so certain he would be able to help you? That he would have the funds at the moment to spare food for an extra mouth?”

Miss Slater was silent. Karen was silent.

The nervousness was hers. Or was it Miss Slaters? Was SHE Miss Slater?

This was bad.

“And what would his friends think, hmm? His former captain? As I understand, he gets a generous sum of money as a sort of thanks for a good length of service from a company that just so happens to be owned by the Graceys. And you?…Well…You were just fired from their house for meddling with one of the master’s sons, weren’t you?”

“That..! You…!” The woman’s face went pale. She doubled over as if in pain, her hand clutched to her heart.

Karen felt a tinge of pain in her own heart. Stabbing. Burning.

“Now, now. Calm yourself. You wouldn’t want to aggravate your condition, now would you?”

The man chuckled darkly, circling around her like a wolf with prey. Her eyes followed nervously along.

“I hold no judgement of you nor bear any grudge. In fact, I’m rather well aware that, as a mere maid, you had little choice but to say ‘yes’ to the young master’s amorous affections. How awful that must have felt; kicked out in the cold because you only did what you were told!”

“Stop!” Miss Slater’s eyes were winced shut, the tears beginning to streak down her face.

The man. The Ghost Host. Waited patiently for her to catch her breath.

“Nathaniel said he loved me.” She said, mournfully. “And I….I convinced myself that I felt the same, if only to make it easier.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I don’t. …I don’t know anymore. I think…I think a part of me did. In a way. In a twisted, awful sort of way, because he only ever made me feel twisted…and…”

She sat shaking on the riverbank. Sobbing quietly.

“Twisted….twisted and awful….I hate him….I want to get away….And I”

She gulped.

“And I don’t…I-I don’t have anywhere to go….”

The man’s hands lifted, and those long, bony fingers ghosted along the woman’s frail shoulders. Skeletal white against the bare of her arms.

“Allow me to help you.” Fingers caught underneath her elbows just as they reached them, and she was coaxed to stand.

“You could come with me. My troupe and I just so happen to be moving out tonight. A fresh start. Fresh clothes. A warm bed, warm food. Does that interest you at all?” This last part was whispered right at the shell of her ear, and she felt compelled to pull away in response.

“And what,” She said, glaring at him. “Pray tell, is your price for such luxuries?”

The man laughed, and his booming voice caused the woman to nervously ease herself away even further from him.

“I assure you, Miss Slater,” The man’s toothy smile could barely be seen underneath the shadow of the mask. “I am not THAT kind of man. I apologize if I have given the wrong impression. It is fear that interests me, not lust. As for my price, I’m not asking much. What I want from you is...” The man reached out to very gently lift her chin. “….your voice.”

Her hand went to her throat. Her face no less filled with anxiety than before.

“Do you mean to rip it from me then, sir?”

He chuckled. “Nothing so macabre. I merely want you to perform with us. Your performance needn’t be strenuous. A song here, a song there. Surely a fair price for what I offer in return, yes?”

“I’m not a singer, sir! Only for my own enjoyment; I’ve never performed or had any sort of train-“

“Unnecessary, I promise. The sort of clientele we get is often far from the obnoxious, discerning upper crust. You need only be decent, and we shall fill the whole tent!”

He offered his hand, and she hesitated to look at it.

She reached up, gently, slowly. Until her hand was firmly in his grasp.

The man smiled.

“Welcome to the Museum of the Weird, Miss Emily Slater.”

Jerked from below.

Taken back into darkness.

Pitch darkness.

But there were outlines of coffins, despite the darkness.

Oh.

She was back in the closet.

The memory was gone again.

And the single lightbulb must have gone out.

Karen sat there, her back against the door, and attempted to regulate her breathing. The room had dropped a whole 20 degrees, accented by an awful burnt smell that reeked through the air; her jacket, which felt particularly heavy against her shoulders, did little to ward off the chill. In fact, it felt as though the cold went right through its threads.

When she was sure that she could actually hold her own weight without passing out, she made the attempt to sta-

……

She tried to sta-

……

She. Tried. To. Stand.

Stand Up.

….

She couldn’t stand up.

She felt the color drain from her face, the burning smell threatening to overpower her as she lifted her shaking hands up….up to her neck….

Only to find.

An….an arm.

…..

Made of stone.

The hand was on her right shoulder, the arm itself resting on her collarbone, the bend in the elbow right on her left shoulder and all of it coming from…

…No….coming through the door.

...The arm was coming through the door. Unhindered. As if the door wasn’t there at all.

She whimpered. Tears lightly stinging her eyes, she stayed perfectly still. As still as she could with all the shaking she was doing.

The statue...The statue had been chasing her this entire time?

….she tried…to go under the arm. To wiggle…

…wiggle

…wigg-

The arm suddenly pushed down on her collarbone, pinning her harder against the door.

She cried out in response, the burning smell was getting worse, and worse…and worse…

The…head…of the statue was now through the door. Stoney eyes staring directly at her.

She whimpered again, silently wishing someone would hear her. Would know she was there.

Her arms clung to the stone, trying to pull it off her but it was too solid and heavy.

Stoney eyes staring at her.

“P-please…..Please….” She whispered. Was it for her savior to hear? Or the statue? Karen herself didn’t know who she was calling for. The tears were running down her face and she couldn’t care to stifle them.

They remained like this, the two of them. A statue and a person. The smell of burnt carcass enveloping her just as strongly as the arm did.

But there was an eventual shift on the statue’s face. The stone eyelids…flickering….Opening. Revealing…

Actual human eyeballs.

This only made her cry harder, because not only was it unnerving to see eyeballs set in stone, but they didn’t have any pupils.

At least, at first, they hadn’t any pupils. But dark pools began to phase into their center, stronger and stronger until the pupils fully appeared.

And with them came….a sort…of softer gaze. The statue looked at her with some sort of recognition.

And….And slowly….meticulously….the statue’s hold began to soften too…

The face moved away….The arm moved away….

Even the single lightbulb in the center of the room came back on.

The burnt smell disappeared.

Without the strength to hold herself in a sitting position, or even the statue to pin her there, Karen slumped to the floor.

Shaking.

In a closet full of coffins. Curled up on the floor, shaking, with the tears still streaming down.

And she finally was able to shudder back to life A nice, long, deep breath.

#chapter 5

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