They linger here, my demons shady

sailing in storm in yawning mind.

“Come to me,” my mortal demons implore

nibbling on my brain, chewing my psyche.

I smile to hide malignant spirits hovering

thriving darkness commandeering my mind.

Beasts with human faces and coated red skins

dripping with blood, pouring poison on wounds,

smothering me with outstretched screams, as

freezing knife of terror plunges within

while monsters gaily play checkers on my soul.

I suppress these spirits but I can’t release them -

they torment, swimming backstrokes in my skull

I want to flee to the moon to escape their wrath

but they wear dreadful disguise of flaming madness

I cry for relief but no one hears my plaintive cries

Don’t navigate my mind, that’s where demons dwell.

#Challenge #demons @SkullBackstrokes

Boggs lived in a graveyard, and had for a few centuries. This made him a fairly new Spectre. He had been killed by a passing bus whose driver failed to observe a scarlet streetlight. “Just as well,” Boggs often muttered to himself as he dusted out his grave, “c’est la vie,” to which his next-grave neighbour would respond with a dry chuckle, “c’est la morte.” Jennings thought he was funny.

There were a few rules to being dead, Boggs had quickly learned.

1. Never sleep in someone else’s grave.

2. Halloween is the only time one is absolutely REQUIRED to perform a haunting, so as to pay ones’ dues to the Keeper.

3. You are not to rely on the Keeper to maintain your cemetary. They are a landlord, not a nanny. You should not let rotting things pile up, even though you’ve grown to like them a lot.

On his first Halloween, Boggs had asked Jennings why they had to pay dues to the Keeper at all, and had learned that if you didn’t pay your dues, you didn’t get to keep on being dead. Not that you’d come back to life...you’d just entirely cease to be. Even though Boggs had been dead for seven hundred and fifty years, he was rather attached to his little grave and wasn’t quite ready to go. So, he went haunting to pay his annual fee.

He and Jennings were mild mannered Spectres, and generally did not like to impose their shroud of doom on passers-by. Just because they were dead, they didn’t feel they needed to wreck someone’s living by staying in their attic or slamming their doors.

“I think haunting’s got a pretty bad rap, dontcha think?” Jennings asked him as they floated through a dark neighbourhood on Halloween night trying to find a good target.

“Well, it’s...dead people scaring living people. How else could it be?” Boggs inquired curiously.

“Why do we always have to scare them? Does the Keeper require it?”

Boggs thought about this. There was no dusty “dues manual” about what hauntings had to consist of. “You’re right...maybe we could change that tonight.”

“Hold on!” Jennings gasped. “I was just making conversation! I don’t want to start some haunting-charity and Cease because I didn’t pay my dues. You do what you want, I’m gonna go find a basement.” Jennings quickly dispersed with the breeze, away from Boggs.

Boggs thought about what Jennings had said. He would do something charitable. He looked around at the smiling trick-or-treaters. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to interact with anyone living without scaring them though. I’ve got it! he thought suddenly, spotting a little old lady shepherding what had to be her granddaughter through the front door of what had to be their home. Boggs quickly materialized behind them and crept in, not daring to let his presence be felt yet. He softly wafted up the stairs to the grandmother’s bedroom. He turned down the covers of her bed. He made a hot water bottle to put under her feet. He locked the window so there wouldn’t be a draft. He lit a candle to give the room a more cheery, warm glow, chasing the darkness away for the sweet old woman. I wonder if she’ll be a grave-neighbour soon, he thought sadly to himself. He looked around him, wondering what else he could do to be helpful.

Thud...thud, came the soft, labourous footsteps up the stairs. Boggs prepared to flee the scene as normal but then thought to himself hang on; I’ve done something nice. I’d like to see if she likes it, deciding that a Spectre only had to flee a mean haunting.

She came into the room, and her jaw dropped as she took in her surroundings. Trying to be helpful, Boggs shut her door for her.

She screamed.

He’d paid his dues.

(Footsteps heard moving from a distance.)

Fur: Hey, guys. We have another wandering soul.

Aga: Another being to bring suffering to. What a great day.

Bue: So, who is on duty this week? I took last week’s shift all by myself.

Pai: Okay, Bue. We get it. You’re the best soul destroyer. That doesn’t mean you get to decide who leads the next shift/job. Wait for the boss to give the orders.

Aga: Why wait? I am sure the sub-leader will give the order soon.

Fur: (snaps fingers and a flame appears above his hand).

Pai: Neat trick.

Bue: That’s nothing. I am working on my telekinesis.

Bue shows the trick on the soul moving in the dead of night. His body is lifted into the air. He freaks out and let’s out a scream.

Then Bue while showing off nearly drops the body towards the ground. He quickly regains control of his power and places the human carefully back down.

Fur: Stop messing around Bue. We don’t want any slip ups like you had last week.

Pai: No worries Fur. Bue knows what he’s doing. Right Bue?

Bue: (folds his hands into fists) Yeah, I do.

Aga: Alright then scare patrol. Let’s keep on doing what we do best. And this time try not to take over the humans bodies Bue.

I know this house

Inside and out

I’ve been here

A long time

The walls and floors

I built myself

I hammered the

Top and sides

The little yard

And crooked walk

I tended

They were mine

I treasured them

For many years

Until I lost

To time

Growing old was

A backhanded gift

I got to have

My prime

Then came age

And later death

That left me

Here confined

Now the stairs

They do not creek

I step but

I just glide

I try to sit

On my bench

But through it

I just slide

Many people have

Come and gone

With realtors

As guides

They stomp the halls

This way and that

Describing what

Is fine

They point out

What been done

And how it’s all

So bright

The rooms they all

Have different paint

The rugs are

New designs

The first ones ripped

The mantle out

That was their

First crime

When they tore

The shutters off

I sat down

And cried

They didn’t stay

Very long

But enough to

Wreck what’s mine

The next ones came and

They nailed holes

To hang a

Bunch of signs

Posters and pictures

Of everything

The biggest

They could find

The windows they

Busted out to

Hang up their

Wind chimes

More destruction and

The rest of my heart

Gave up there

And died

Left with no

Other choice

I knew how

To decide

I had to make

Them want to leave

To run somewhere

And hide

I waited for the

Home tour group

To start the

Upstairs climb

Then I slammed

All the doors

And started

To arise

Slowly up through

The rug

Between their feet

And twined

Ghostly arms

Around their legs

And wrapped more

Up their spines

I held them there

And gargle groaned

A warning they

Would find

Completely

True if they

Came back

To slime

Their selves around

My home again

Today or

Any time

“Go” I yelled

And moaned “get out”

“Stay away”

I advised

They shivered and

I held tighter

A restored home

My drive

“Run” I screamed

As the walls shook

Then I flashed

The lights

The realtors began

To shriek

A haunting

Their demise

“There are ghosts”

The group croaked

Deciding not

To buy

I deeply laughed

An evil cackle

And released them

To resign

Myself back through

The boards

Leaving their

Screams behind

They took off

Down the stairs

Tripping

To stay alive

I watched them run

Across the grass

Slipping as

They tried

To get away from

Old dead me

And the house

With fear inside

I may be dead

But I’m not gone

And this home here

Is mine

Two steps behind

Shadow

is my friend

I slip between sunlight

dance across empty fields

sometimes spook horses

to

hug corners

the way I once held you

When your ears burn

Nose tingles

Sneeze comes unexpected

Is it me you're looking for?

@Harry_Situation #Challenge #Halloween #Haunting #Perspective

Miserably, Gerald watched the other children dressed up for Halloween, his favourite holiday. This year he had no costume. There would be no ringing of doorbells, no scaring, no spooky houses to scream in and worst of all: no candy!

"Mom! I'm done visiting Gerry. I want to collect candy, now!"

"We'll leave shortly, Cody," promised his mother, but that answer wasn't good enough.

"I want my candy," Cody screamed before mysteriously falling silent.

A wind whistled through the cemetery. Gerald didn't feel bad about making Cody sleep. Bratty Cody could skip this Halloween. It was a small sacrifice. At least it was better than being dead.

"Alright, honey. Let's go."

Gerald smiled in his little brother's vampire costume and took his mothers hand.

When did I become me?

When did I become the demon you see?

The image on the mirror screen

The monster behind your frightful scream

Amongst the dusty webs and tarantula creeping with care

When did I become the beast, that which made witches fear?

When did I become my demons host?

When I become what I dread the most?

When did become my creator and born the creature from the mist?

When did decay smell as daisies

When did the wiggle of maggots drive me crazy?

When did wails sound like symphonies in the opera hall?

When did I wonder the views from the eyes that litter my floor?

When did death seem as autumn, when did blood, fall

When I listen to frightful whimpers and hear it as nature’s call

When did I see girls as pretty when dressed as headless dolls

When did I shed my skin and wore my reaper’s skull?

The line that marked that point has been blurred by my victims’ echoes

I have since being baptized in my victims’ falsetto.

The workers were blissfully unaware that they were being watched by a pair of critical eyes. The crew of eight men had been hired to renovate the long defunct Adwode Manor. Only, their overseer was no mortal foreman. Lady Priscilla hovered just out of sight, while the men worked sawing this, hammering that, bang, bang, bang. She didn’t appreciate these annoying trespassers altering the property. Adwode Manor belonged to her and her beloved husband. She’d been haunting the manor for the last hundred years. Her husband, Lord of Adwode Manor, rode off to battle years and years ago. She couldn’t possibly leave. Lady Priscilla was still waiting patiently, faithfully for his return. A century had passed already, and she would gladly wait a hundred more until she could once again set eyes on her beloved. But what would happen if these trespassers vastly changed the appearance of the manor? Would her beloved recognize their home they had built together from the ground up? Would he be able to find his way back to her?

As she watched the men work, she thought about how she could effectively get rid of the horrid trespassers. Lady Priscilla had always been a gentle, peaceful woman, so violence was out of the question. She didn’t care to harm them in the least way. After all, surely these men had families of their own, and wives who loved them as much as she did her Lord of Adwode Manor. She could never in good conscience impart on any living soul the suffering, the grief of loss, she had endured for the years leading up to her death, and the century afterward. But she did want them gone. She could easily frighten the workmen so badly, they would never likely return. Lady Priscilla knew she wasn’t the prettiest ghost. She looked grotesque, her neck perpetually bent at the angle it had snapped on the day she hung herself in the basement.

The ghostly Lady of the manor thought, for a moment, about making herself seen. That should do the trick, and send the trespassers running for the hills. But then one of the men’s words caught her ear, and she stopped to listen intently.

“The king wants the renovations finished before the start of the autumn season. The manor has more than enough rooms to make a proper school, and he wants the royal students moved in as soon as possible.”

Now, this piece of unexpected news piqued her interest immensely. A school? These workmen were converting her old home into a school. Lady Priscilla had loved children when she lived. Sadly, she and her beloved never had the opportunity to start a family of their own. A school would bring such life, such joy to the manor that had grown so drab and lonely over the years. The influx of children could be a source of entertainment, helping her pass the time until the day her beloved finally returned. Right then and there, Lady Priscilla decided to let the men finish the work they set out to do.

She was so excited about the prospect of having regular company, she momentarily forgot to conceal herself from the workmen. One of the men, working a mere few feet away, caught a glimpse of her. She knew he saw her, because his face instantly went ashen, and his jaw was left hanging on its hinges. She fled quick as a flash of lightning. Lady Priscilla had revealed herself for only a fleeting moment. Perhaps he could convince himself that she was only an figment of his imiganition, or heatstroke maybe?

“You alright, Ned?” one of the man’s colleagues called out jokingly, “looks like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Lady Priscilla did not wait to hear his reply, and retreated to the basement where she spent the majority of her time. She would not bother with the workmen another minute. Instead, thinking only of her beloved, and the imminent arrival of children to Adwode Manor.

https://theprose.com/post/188517/the-ghostly-gala

I still remember the day those people barged into my home. They dragged all their crap with them; dishes, furniture, whining children and that damn, pesky dog. I was sitting on my front porch and they walked right past me. Didn't even see me!

"What the hell are you doing! This is my home!" I yelled and yelled until my voice was hoarse but still they came. Their clutter filling my immaculate house. I watched all day as they unloaded a truck. I couldn't believe they were taking over a residence I had lived in for ages. That night while they slept I came up with my plan. I'd make sure they'd leave.

The next morning during breakfast the woman of the family was cooking breakfast. She had the ugliest crockery I'd ever seen on my antique dining table. I walked straight over and threw every plate on the ground. "Honey! DID YOU SEE THAT?" The woman frantically shook her husband with fear. "Those plates flew right off the table", she shrieked."Babe, it's just the creaky house shifting. Rattled the table. We'll get new dishes soon. We needed them anyway." She replaced the dishes and continued. Creaky table? I couldn't believe my ears. Well, if that didn't work, I'd do something even more grandiose.

I heard those those little monsters upstairs playing with their toys. Running around scuffing my clean floors. If I could scare them enough, get my point across, I was sure they'd leave. I marched up the stairs to find them stomping, dragging toy cars along the wooden floor and jumping on the beds. Not in my house. I grabbed both of them by the scruff of their necks and dragged them all the way to the hallway, slamming the bedroom door in their smug little faces. "MOM! WE HAVE A GHOST! IT HURT US!" I could hear the little rats scurrying down the stairs. "Zoey and Zak, there are no such thing as ghosts. You're imagining things." There was just no convincing those adults they didn't belong in my house.

That night as I sat in my rocker, glasses around my nose I saw the little dog they brought with them sniffing around the study. That's when I had the best idea. "The dog. I'll do something to the dog and they'll have to leave. Their precious poochy will be the way I get my house back!"

The next day as everyone was enjoying the airy atmosphere of the study, I walked in, looked at them all and kicked that dog right in the ass. It yelped and yelped. The kids were scared of course but those damn parents! "Honey, did you rock on his tail? You must have. Scared him to bits."

I dropped my head. For 200 years all I've wanted is to live a peaceful, undead life in my home. But every decade or some a new group of people think they can just barge in and make themselves at home in MY house. Being a ghost is tough. In death I thought I'd have peace, but humans, my God. They are an annoying bunch of people. Taking things as their own. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I want roommates. Here's to another decade of irritation.

"Trick or Treat!"

A slovenly man opens up the door and eyes the the two standing there with mild disinterest. "Wow...two more ghosts. How original..." he hummed in an annoying monotone. He reached into his goodie bowl and dropped in a treat into each of their pillowcases. The man closed the door with almost an effort of annoyance.

The two ghosts moved aside to let other trick-or-treaters try their luck. If anyone was paying attention to them, the others would have noticed that these two ghosts actually did hover when they moved.

"So Howard, what did that jerk give you?"

"He gave me a stupid popcorn ball! What the hell is a ghost going to do with a popcorn ball? What about you?"

Cindy grimaced, even more than her typical grimacing look that she felt she needed to wear, "I got a Hershey's bar. Almost as bad."

They tried to give their latest treats away to some of the other trick-or-treaters. A boy took the chocolate bar, but nobody wanted Howard's pathetic popcorn ball.

"So Cindy, do you think this jerk deserves a trick?"

Cindy shrugged. "I don't know. I am not quite in the mood to haunt him, he wasn't that bad."

"He gave me a popcorn ball! I hate popcorn balls. Anyway, it wouldn't be nearly as fun to haunt him alone."

Cindy grimaced a smile, "You sure do know how to sweet talk a lady. How do you want to do it?"

"Sexy ghost and poltergeist?"

"Only if I get to be the poltergeist this time!"

"Cindy, you are the only creature in all planes that thinks I can be a sexy anything."

Cindy actually smiled, "True. It just gets a bit old always having to be a sexy ghost."

"I didn't say you had to stay sexy."

~~~

A few hours later, Howard and Cindy floated through the wall of the popcornball-giver's house and started to look around.

"He seems pretty dull. This plant is the sexiest thing he owns!"

"Hmmm. Should we do the revenant and fetch haunt instead?"

"No, I'll just wing what type of sexy he might like. Hopefully he doesn't indeed have a plant fetish though."

"Ok Cindy. See you soon!"

Cindy hovered up the staircase, and into the snoring man's bedroom. Her potential victim was a disgusting sod. She shimmered into a more appealing form. Cindy leaned over and whispered in the man's ear, "Wake up, I am ready to play."

No response. She stroked his hair, he snorted and snored deeper. "Howard, this man is practically dead as it is. You try."

Howard took possession of the TV. The TV turned on and the volume racheted. He found a snarky infomercial. Terrifying.

The man covered his head with a pillow, and fumbled for the remote. "Dammit the hell! Cheap Chinese crap of a TV." The man fastballed the remote at the TV, shattering the screen, then the electronics fried. Cindy looked at Howard wincing at the electrical shocks and tried not to laugh.

"Boo!" Cindy shouted.

The man removed the pillow and looked up, "What the bloody hell? Who the hell are you? How did you get into my house?"

"Through the wall actually." Cindy felt his eyes take her in and noticed his blankets start to tent. She still had it, even dead.

"So why are you here?"

Howard posessed a chair, and started to shuffle it around. Howard always had terrible timing.

"To haunt you, obviously."

"Why? What miserable thing did I ever do to you?"

"Actually nothing, but you pissed my friend off really good."

"Yeah, how?"

"You gave him a popcorn ball for a treat."

"Nah, it was a trick."

Cindy laughed. The chair flew across the room and knocked the man out cold. Howard emerged from the chair, seething.

Cindy frowned a grimace, "Dammit Howard! I was getting ready to really haunt him? Now he is unconscious."

"Sorry, but you got to admit, giving popcorn balls as a trick is evil."