Apparitions

Seek the places where light meets dark, there you will find tales of inexplicably intertwined realms both near and far.

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Apparitions

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You don't have to live within the Manor to see ghosts. All it took was a lightning fast shutter of the twin lenses over her eyes. She could be at the Outback, out front in the swamps of the Park or laying awake at the late hours of the twilight staring at the ceiling. When those lids shut she could see the ghosts of the past rearing their heads and whispering to her. Their words were sometimes more clear and lucid than not.

Each and every time it began the same way. Sterile hallways with metal contraptions lining the walls. Halogen hums that were overhead in long tubes of light and the meshed plastic that served as a dampener for them. She could look down and see a skirt she was wearing and odd black shoes with white socks. Every time she turned the corner she'd begin to go up the staircase and ended up on the roof.

A larger girl would always oppose her and punch her right in the face. In response like clockwork she took the index and middle fingers and stuck them below her nose to feel the burning and to smell the metallic rust. She could taste it too. That was when things got potent and everything turned to red. Rage. Hatred. Anger. Self-loathing.

Why didn't you do anything about it?!

Don't you care about your own family?!

How many times do I have to tell you? Winning is everything!

Are you really going to let us down? Don't you care what happens to your younger brother?

Clarice look at the camera! The last one was where things got strange and she could see herself with the blood running down her face and her broken knuckles, vividly snarling at the camera girl. She was escorted from the roof and led down the stairwell again but she could always recall the feeling.

Until she awoke each night in a sweat-drenched bed kicking and screaming. Several ghosts would slip through her walls to make sure everything was okay, and she would say it was- when in reality she could feel each night building until it might one day hit a wall. A culmination where she'd drive those finger tips into her face and pry off the skin that clung to the bones.

"I'm not her."

"I'm not her."

"I'm not her."

"I'm not her."

"I'm not her."

"I'm not her."

"I'm NOT HER!"

I'M NOT HER!
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Hedge mazes were a lot less formidable from a bird's eye view. You'll know if you hit your trail every time along the way but wandering within the halls of twists and turns, it was a different story at night. With only a candle light to guide your way you would sooner find yourself in the catacombs of moss-covered mason work that descended into the moist basement tombs. She had been searching for a room that could be both isolated yet remain within walking distance of her quarters. As it turned out, there was one that was rather well camouflaged. She nodded to the spirit that smiled back and made on his way into and through the thick cobblestone wall.

It was damp and smelled like aged urine and she had scrunched her face in the vile stench before slamming a heavy stack of papers and folders down on the thick oaken table. A peculiar device had been explained to her prior, and she was a bit more careful when she sat it down on the table as well. A projector that looked older than her was given a heavy blow from the lungs to rid it of its exoskeleton of aging dust. When she plugged it in she half lost herself in the terror of it simply burning out.

A hum could be heard as the fan began to spin and the light flooded against the barren wall that it faced. She let out a sigh of relief and opened the first vanilla folder before adjusting here or there with her hands. She had to squint for a moment or two before straightening out the focus on the lens but when she did, she could read it loud and clear.

Four Up! Four Down¡ Week 1 - IFL News Network

The words were large and shone at the top of the transparent article. She groaned as she sat down in her chair with her pen and notebook before reaching over for her now luke-warm coffee. She resisted the urge to gag before she began reading, the stack of vanilla folders thick and in desperate need of a dusting.

"I guess this is a good place to start."
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Few were the places where one could escape one pair of eyes in the Manor. She had all that she could take of studying. Manilla folders could only teach you so much, words on a wall could only be read- what was intangible could only be learned by doing.

How many laps are you doing, senora?" the words rang through her head as she walked barefoot through the vacant hallways until she exited the Manor out the rear doors.

Downpour never struck her as odd anymore. She welcomed it as though the sky had been shedding her tears- not that she needed the pity, but it was a bizarre cathartic sentiment that she could accept. Overhead her shirt was removed before it pooled at her feet with the cloth linen that had been held by the leather belt which followed close behind. She stepped towards the pond closest to her and took her time staring at the rippling surface which reflected her eyes like a contorted doppleganger.

I'll file that under advisement." that had been her response earlier. Her eyes wandered until she spied a boulder no bigger than her waist line. She walked over to it and bent by her knees, hugging it with her arms. At fifty pounds it wasn't an easy lift for her and she had been wary not to pull anything as she slowly walked into the pond. Her eyes remained open until she was completely submerged within the pond- shed of her clothes and care should any eyes be watching.
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Post by Hope »

Her laps hadn't been traditional by any means. She'd felt the weight of the water in conjunction with the weight of the boulder nearly crushing her. Every halfway she'd stop and rise to the surface for what felt like a renewing life-giving breath of fresh air. Then she would descend once more to lift up the boulder and continue to the other side. Metronome-like in her diligence she had continued the cycle at least five times around until one moment when she rose over the water's surface she heard a scream.

It was probably just a ghost getting scared by one of the undead animals running around. Surprisingly that was more frequent than one might imagine. She shrugged and went down for another lap, ignorant of what might actually be a much more gruesome truth.
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Blood seeped through the tape that was wound around the knuckles and fingers. A thousand punches to the wooden board and she'd finally conceded to the task. Flexing her fingers hurt far too much and as she took a seat on the boulder that had been her best training partner over the past weeks, she heard a distinct timbre that she'd never before.

"Hate t' burst y'er bubble there lass, but that's not goin' t'a help y'a win nothin'." Even though the specters weren't alive anymore they still resembled their previous selves, like when the southerner looked to the side and "spit" on the ground.

She was used to the company around the Manor. The first few weeks it was impossible to escape their staring eyes and their peeping ways, but eventually they all fell into line going about whatever it was they did. She'd become a wall flower to most which was fine by her. Life had offered enough obstacles to her, she didn't need post-mortem complications. Wait, wasn't that the basis of her life? She shook her head when she saw the opaque form come to a stop a few feet away from her. Clearly not living, but unlike a lot of the other ghosts who never let their true face be seen. The man she assumed was roughly 5'9 and covered in rags and ratty clothing. His face and skin was covered by aged gauze at the time of she assumed his demise, and he had scraggly white hair poking out at his head that fell to his shoulders.

"If I don't get stronger I can't beat up the bigger guys." She shrugged wincing from the pain and was tentative to really talk more to the stranger.

A coarse laugh came out through his mouth while he held his stomach and leaned back.

"Y'er pretty which I guess explains why y'a ain't that smart." His laughter was a mixture of nails on a chalkboard and a vocoder, utterly unsettling to every facet of his being.

"If you weren't dead already I'd kick your ass too." She rose up and took a step in his direction. It wasn't hard playing tough with the ghosts and wielding a spear that could actually hurt them only aided to that need. She grabbed a hold of the black lacquered spear staff and spun it around, having the ghoulish whistle begin to drone as she did.

"Y'er not goin' t'a find much luck with that missy." An index finger rose and wagged at her before the drone of the spear turned into an audible blade cutting through the air. It was a thrust that the ghost easily side stepped without falter.

"Who's in charge of t'a manor now, lettin' a rude untalented squeak like you have dat spear?" Subsequent thrusts came his way but all fell short of piercing the interstitial nature of the frame.

"Shadow is easily one of the best living or dead!" She stepped a fine footwork, honestly some of her best since she took up the craft but was simply unable to pierce his body. In a fit of obstinate refusal she set the spear down and rose her fists as she skirted closer to the man, keener on the form and out to rearrange his misty face.

An hour went by as the sun began to set and her breathing was nearly impossible at the rate they had been going. A total of three hundred and forty-five punches she'd thrown at him. Zero had landed and none had even come close to it. He was simply too fast. She leaned over holding her knees fighting the natural urge to vomit all over the ground. She'd not been neglecting her cardio but this was beyond her imagination.

"Why can't I hit you?" She looked up at him through the spikey silver strands and struggled to form words between her breaths.

"Before y'a try ta blame it on me bein' dead I'll have y'a know I was this quick when I was alive. Called me The Mockingbird in mah day, too fast to get hit an' I was like a surgeon with mah hits." He drew closer to her and picked up a stick drawing a circle on the ground then intersected it with a straight line through the center.

"Life 'n' death are separate ya? Somethin's never change though. Y'er puttin' on a lot of weight 'n bulk with that there boulder but y'er never goin' ta have an iron jaw like some 'f them bigger dudes." He began scratching in half of the circle with marks leaving the other half vacant.

"In a perfect world y'er balanced 'n capable of everythin'. We all know this world ain't perfect though." He "spit" again, before resuming his train of thought.

"Y'er punches ain't gonna get any more power to them 'n' y'er probably doin' more harm than good with y'er stupid workouts. 'm amazed ya can even throw a punch with them tattered things." He pointed to her hands before "spitting" again.

She'd caught enough of her breath to where she wasn't hunched over anymore but stared at the diagram he'd roughly drawn out. "Well I don't like some of the gyms around here. I don't know how to use half of the things in there and they look more like a dungeon." She pointed to the vacant half of the circle. "What's that?"

"Tha's y'er speed. Fightas come down to a few things but yah gotta have a foundation. Y'er either fast or y'er strong, ye can' be both all the way. Jus' nature's way of keepin' it fair I always imagine. Right now y'er hurtin' on y'er speed 'cause y'er tryin' tah overcompensate. Yah won that nice diamond but y'er never goin' tah be done workin'. If yah want to beat them bigger guys yah gotta' be trainin' this." He pointed to his head.

She stayed silent for a few minutes taking in the words he'd spoken. She didn't know his real name, she didn't know anything about him. All she really knew was that she'd spent the past hour looking like a terrible dancer in some poorly choreographed music video. She didn't have a dime to show for it either.

"I want to be faster and better." Admission was a lot harder than it looked when you figured you'd been sitting on top of the world.

"Yah said yah have a gym? Take me by there 'n I might be lookin' tah help yah, only 'cause'in yah look so sad ain't able to touch me." His horrendous laugh followed and she squinted at him, ready to take a cheap shot with the spear.

"Fine. If I think you're not blowing smoke I'll sign you on as my trainer." She extended her hand for a shake and when he extended his it passed through her's.

"Ooops."
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Post by Hope »

She sat at the table with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other with a bib around her neck that had a seal on it, wearing a bib itself with a knife and fork in its flippers. For a minute she sat silently staring down at what was before her.

"What the hell is that?" the tone full of doubt and frustration.

What lay beneath her judgmental gaze was a wooden bowl full of rice, cheese, nuts and a plethora of small berries. Carefully each piece of this bizarre puzzle was poked with her fork, not quite daring enough to impale the components for consumption.

"Tha' ain't no way t'e thank me. Tha's breakfast now y'ah betta eat up." the twang was accompanied by a quick hosing of the utensils within the tower's kitchen, which was surprisingly in great shape.

"But you didn't even stir-fry it... I don't get it." She held a contorted face of pain before looking back in disbelief.

"It's n'ah about how much mass y'ah packin'- it's more about how y'ah packin' mass. Y'ah got a lot of wasted mass. We need t'ah condition y'ah and compact y'ah body. Y'ah need t'ah be a weapon. All of y'ah." cleaning wasn't the ghoul's specialty but at this rate the whole Isle would be clean before that bowl empty.

"Are you calling me fat?" A new dilemma was at hand, soon quickly overpowering the question of 'what's for breakfast?'.
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