The Septic Curse

Eleven

The ghost/curse/whatever the fuck we're calling it now had been watching. 

And learning. 

Just as its new ally told it to. 

It didn't like all of what happened and felt guilty, especially where the creature its ally made up ripped Robbie in half. But it was actually enthralled by this at the same time, the idea of it doing something like that... 

It just HAD to feed that idea. 

Sooner rather than later, but not quite now...

"Is power what you want? The ability to make them feel what you felt?"

"The power to make those who carve out their own eyes see?"

"All you've got to do is be mine."

"Give in to me, and I'll ensure everything you want and more will be yours..."

"Until you're able to rest, I will be at your side."

"My dearest friend."

The ghost could feel the other's intent, almost hearing them as if they were a voice in its head.

It didn't know why the other was helping it, or how they know it, or even why the fuck they had a weird habit of making things sound sexual... Unless they WERE meaning it that way... But either way, it knew better than to turn down an offer like that.

It bowed down its head, certain that the other could see it. And it let its ally have it. 

"I'11 Gl^3 y0v wy 20v1 f0r t43 9rl(3 0f t43lr2."

"Very good~ That's what I hoped you would say~"

------------

Jameson swore that he called for the 'curse' ten times before it finally answered. 

How was the mute 'calling' for anything? One may wonder. The answer was simple- he wasn't doing it vocally. He was using the Sam plushie. And a Ouija Board, of course. 

When it finally did answer the mute's simple 'hello' that he repeated ten times, it immediately spelled out 'I-T W-A-S-N-T M-E'. How convincing. 

Jameson stayed still for a minute, trying to process what just happened.

'I P-R-O-M-I-S-E'

The mute sighed, turning to Robbie. "D-iiid... You do a b-baad?" The zombie grunted out. 'No' the piece went to the word. Robbie turned to Jameson, who mouthed "who?" which he effectively translated out loud. 

All was still for a minute, Jameson not feeling the need to go to any of the letters. 

But eventually, they did get a response.

Jameson moved the piece slowly, feeling as if he had been possessed.