Spirited (closed)

[shizzz]

Lance had been apprenticed to a blacksmith, with his broad shoulders and thick muscles it was an easy adjustment. Then he was called into the civil war, being a man of integrity he had believed firmly in freeing the slaves.

He had left on a cold winter night, kissing his betrothed farewell and promising to return victorious. But their had been some sort of mix up, and the train the day they were going to leave had been recalled, telling them they were gonna leave in two days. So he ran back to her house, ecstatic that he would be able to spend another two days with her. He had stumbled into her house, and found her with another man. As soon as he stepped in she had screamed of rape and Lance had grabbed the man and spun him around, but just before he could swing at him, he felt a cold stab of steel in his chest. He looked down to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his ribs.

He looked up at the assailant....it was his best friend! He gurgled something in response, but the world was growing dim as it turned sideways and he heard a thud. He had just collapsed to the ground when he heard his believed say to the rapest

"Oh honey you didn't have to kill him" In an even tone, she wasn't even upset! Lance had been betrayed by the two most trusted people in his life, and as the darkness faded he screamed. It only came out as a gurgle in the real world, but as his spirit ascended the cry bellowed out across the nether world, his pain and fury echoing back to him from an eternal abyss.

He found himself stuck there, flashing in and out as the building changed, but always stayed the same. Lives lived and moved through the old house, adn he forever haunted the place of his betrayal. It was his hell.

He had no control of when he came or left, but he could never remember where he went when he wasn't here, time would just jump forward for him

This time he found a slender brunette with box upon box in his house

As she unpacked and set up she began to decorate the house, but a few of the things seemed to bring back the memory, the end, the betrayal to him. SO as he gathered strength in the night he wold knock them off and try to break them in furious fits in the dark witching hours of the night, never truly to far from those dark endings of his life

 

[illianacole]

Maryssa stood in her living room with her hands on her hips, looking at the newest mess her ghostly visitor had left for her in the night. It had been a priceless music box from the civil war era, passed down through the women of her family to her. Now it lay shattered on the carpet.

She had been doing research on her family and found that her great great great great grandmother had lived in this house. it amazed her that the place was still standing, and even more so that it was up for sale. Wouldn't it be lovely to live in her ancestral home, she'd thought and on impulse had bought it.

She'd gone home to california and packed up her life, such as it was. Her parents had passed a few years ago and she hadn't a boyfriend or husband to worry about.

Maryssa wasn't exactly what today's men found attractive. Oh, she was pretty enough, with long chestnut curls down her back and grass green eyes, full lips that begged to be kissed. No, it was the fact that she was a curvacious size 12 that seemed to be the problem. if she'd been living in her ancestor's times she'd have been considered slender, but now she was referred to as thick. Especially since she only stood four inches above five feet tall. Men tended to pass her by for the skinnier party girls.

All she really had to tend to was her job, but she could be a nanny anywhere or better yet accomplish her dream of becoming a writer.

So, after resigning from her position and packing up her few belongings and the house full of family treasures that she'd inherited from her parents and moved to her new home.

the first week had been absent of anything paranormal, though she was told that her purchase came part and parcel with it's own ghost. However, when she began to unpack her family heirlooms, the activity started. at least twice a week she would wake to find something else broken smashed or shattered.

It had been a month and a half now and this was the last straw. With tears in her eyes, Ryssa knelt down to begin cleaninging up the mess, determined to confront her ghostly roomate the next time it decided to trash her things.

 

[shizzz]

For some reason he had been more aware of the corporeal world lately. Constantly funding himself able to interact with the physical with growing strength. With this he delighted in wreaking havoc on the tenant of his home

Night after night he roamed through his halls, pulling pictures from the wall and tossing out the contents of cabinets and dressers. He roamed down through the living room and paused. The visage in the picture frame painfully familiar. He stopped staring, his ghostly heart racing as he looked down on his wife. It was not his wife, but she was the embodiment of her. He turned and sought out the living

The ruckus he had raised had roused her an he found her on wr knees cleaning the mess he had made. He stood frozen, watching as her breath became visible. The power he drew from the air made it cold, as it gave him strength. He reached down and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her about. Her tear ridden eyes gazed about, unable to see him, but the fright in her eyes evident to anyone. Those eyes were his wife's and the look in them brought him to a stop. The room filled with a howl as the sight sent him reeling back into the netherworld, racked with pain, anger and anguish as memories crashed through him of that night if her betrayal

 

[illianacole]

Ryssa stared into the darkness of her living room, terrified. She knew she hadn't imagined the hand tugging on her shoulder, but when she'd turned no one was there.

"h-hello?" she said on a shaky breath. the sudden chill in the room had combined with her fear to produce an uncontrollable shiver her. The scream that resounded through her home didn't help the condition either. "Look I don't mind you being here, but please quit breaking my things. they mean a great deal to me."

She waited for a response, any response but none came. So, she finished cleaning up the shards of wood ans ceramic, tossing it in the trash bin on her way by it on the way back to her room. Grateful for her thick blankets she climbed back into her bed and went back to sleep.

 

[shizzz]

Lance soon found himself back in te house. He did not know how or why, but he had been drawn back from the darkness and then he recalled her soft angelic face. It couldn't have been her.

He walked through the house, silently seeking her out. He came to te bedroom he had shared with his wife so long ago. He slid through the door, and he looked down on the prone form. Her long hair swept away from her face. Her face was the twin of his wife's and he felt the anger begin to boil at the memory of her betrayal and her whoring. The girl was caught up in the sheets and he reached down, slowly tugging the sheets down until she lay completely exposed. She wore a right shirt, the fabric showing off the lines of her figure. She was by no means slender, but where most women curved, her form swerved. Large full breasts stood on her chest stretching the fabric tight. Te cooling air made her nipples harden on te peaks of the twin mounds. The shirt tightened down to her waist, not thin, but flat and full. Her hips swept out ona spit of tight shirts, wr thick thighs smooth and strong sliding out from the material of the shorts. He could not help but feel lust. Her form was almost an exaggeration of what the ideal woman was to be. She was thick and full figured, just as his wife had been, making her an object of attention

Before he knew what he was doing he stepped into the bed, his legs sinking through it as he came to stand beside her. He reached out one ghostly hand, and cupped her breast, but his hands slid through her flesh, but he could see her nipple stiffen as the odd sensation raced through her unconscious form. His own senses barely registering anything beyond the warmth of her flesh. He drew his hand back and concentrated. Then lowered his hand again, watching as the flesh molded around his invisible flesh, the outlines of his fingers appearing as the soft full flesh yielded to his gentle groping. He groaned as the list of memory came to him again. Quickly replaced with anger and hate he drew his hand back.

He watched her as she slept, his mood switching back and forth from lust, anger and frustration. Before long the room began to lighten with the rising sun, and her alarm went off. He stood watching her as she stirred, the noisy machine slowly rousing her. He watched