The Battle of Life and Death

Haunted

 ~Evelyn Thatcher~

After walking around and counting the roof tiles for the billionth time since I've been trapped at this museum, I finally make it back to square one; the door. That's when I notice a man enter through the supposed-to-be locked doors. He, however, doesn't use a key, nor does he use criminal instruments. No, instead, his hand shoots out a fascinating white light that silently and completely opens the door without destroying it. What the hell was that?

He confidently walks in, not a care in the world that someone could be here, in this very public building. Well, maybe he knows no one is here–except me. I don't count, however, because no one has even seen me, not even other ghosts. I'm not sure other apparitions even exist. Maybe I'm the only one.

Shortly after the first man arrives, two more equally as attractive, but different in so many ways, men walk in. The first guy was lean and sturdy with black hair, and the second one to walk in was a little taller than the first one, and a little more muscular, he also had white-blonde hair tied in a bun that beautifully clashed with his olive skin, and lastly, the last guy to walk in was shorter than both of the previous men, but he was a little chubbier, not in a bad way, but in a way that suited him. His hair, however, was a fiery red color that clashed with his bright green eyes. Blondie has blue eyes and the brunette has brown. They were all so beautiful.

Suddenly, something that hadn't happened since I was alive caused me to fall to my knees and gasp out loud. Apparently, they didn't hear me because they were all looking at each other with awe, adoration, and lust. I have feelings. And not just any specific feeling, I am irately aroused. I cannot even begin to feel any other emotion besides intense horniness with these three men in the same room as me, so I sprint away from them into the manager's office. The room that currently houses my murder weapon.

I look at it scornfully after the arousal subdues a minute bit. After that emotion, comes intense rage directed towards a certain murderer. I feel like I could leave this place if I wanted to, for the first time in ten years, I can confidently say I can leave and never return. But I know that is impossible because I am attached to the knife, and how do I feel like this? Is it these men?

The door behind me opens up and in walks the short redhead. He's not that short compared to me, actually, he still towers over me by at least four inches. That is irrelevant because what he says makes me feel better about myself about my embarrassing lust-filled stupor, "Jesus, calm down, Phoenix. Why do I feel so attracted to Ace all of a sudden? And who is this stranger? Why do they make me so fucking horny? Get yourself together man!" He slaps himself in the face after his little tirade. Oh, so his name is Phoenix, and the guy he came here with is Ace? I wonder who the third one is.

I can't help the grin and giggle that leaves my lips after his argument with himself. As if he could hear me, he looks up exactly to where I stood with a raise of his eyebrows and a puzzled look on his face. However, I know he can't see me because he says, trying to convince himself, "What the hell was that? Now you're imagining a girl giggling at you. How long has it been since you've been with someone? Years, actually, the first and last time was with the coven. Great, I'm talking to myself now, too."

I giggle again at his antics. I really like this one. He reminds me of myself. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, though.

As he turns to leave, he abruptly stops and stares at an object on the wall, exactly where my knife should be. I walk around the manager's desk to investigate further, and sure enough, he's staring at the damned blade. I can't help but glower again at it. As if he can feel a shift in the air, he makes up his mind and grasps the display case in his hands. Just as fast as he grabbed it, he places it in his purse. I didn't even see him come in with it. I guess I was too distracted.