Wednesday's Ghost

2

                  Wednesday had spent the past few days weaving an intricate dance around her dorm, her steps deliberate and calculated, ensuring she never once collided with the one she was desperately trying to avoid. Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm of confusion and irritation, with Ghost's smirking face appearing in every shadow. The dreams had been relentless, invading her nights with a passion that both thrilled and infuriated her. In the light of day, she scoffed at the notion that he had any hold over her, but at night, in the quiet solitude of her room, she couldn't help but feel the gnawing ache of his absence.

The whispers grew louder in her mind, urging her to give in, to seek him out, to play the game she had so masterfully avoided. But she was stronger than that. She was the Nightshade, the one who brought fear to the dead, not the one who craved their attention like a lovesick puppy. So she ignored the whispers, focusing on her schoolwork and the mundane tasks that kept her from spiraling into the abyss of her own thoughts .But fate had other plans.

The door to the dorm creaked open, and in walked Enid, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Oh, good, you're up," she sang, a hint of mischief in her voice. "I brought someone to see you."

Enid swung it open, revealing a tall, shadowy figure with piercing eyes that sent a shiver down Wednesday's spine.

He stepped into the light, his tall frame casting an eerie shadow. "Hello again." His voice making Wednesday roll her eyes at the leap her dead heart made.

"Why did you invite him here?" Wednesday asked with no emotion. 

Taking in his sharp features and the leather jacket he had on today. The hint of a sadistic smirk playing on his lips just the same as it did when they first met. He certainly was the kind of dark she liked—brooding, dangerous, and with a touch of madness that intrigued her.

The three of them stood in silence, the tension thick as a fog that rolled in from the cemetery outside. And then, as if on cue, a gust of wind slammed the window shut with a bang.

"So, I'm hungry anyone want to join me?" Enid asked, breaking the spell.

Wednesday closed her book with a snap. "I'm going to library." Dismissing her and shoving past Ghost as if he hadn't been the main focal point on her mind the past few days. 

They parted ways, or so she thought and she ventured into the dimly lit hallways, the cobblestone floors echoing her footsteps. Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she sensed a presence lurking just beyond her peripheral vision. The cloying scent of damp earth and decaying flowers grew stronger, reminiscent of the cemetery she had recently visited in her dreams. Yet she knew it wasn't Enid; her friend's approach was as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. No, this was someone else entirely, someone that made her skin crawl and her instincts sharpen.

Turning on her heel, she came face to face with the very source of her nocturnal infatuation—Ghost. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned against the wall, a specter in the flesh. He was so close she could almost feel the cold seeping from his pores.

"Ghost," she said, her voice a purr

He only smirked at her as if expecting her to catch on to his stalking. 

"I've heard about your father." She interrupted and stated.

He walked up to her, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he scanned her brown eyes gazing curiously into his. "And what have you heard?" He asked her.

"That he was quite the artist."

The hallways grew darker around them.

"My dad was just a man with a unique hobby."