Mystra was so scared; she thought she had no other option but to run. She sprinted down the last few stairs and approached the door. Right before she could make her exit, something grabbed her and pulled her back. She felt arms around her, binding her own to her body, not allowing her to move. She looked down, and to her shock, the arms holding her were not solid. They were a transparent white; even the cloth (or supposed cloth) that covered those arms was the same. They were cold, and felt real, yet not quite there.
Suddenly a voice whispered in her ear. "Guess whooo?" it asked in a sing-song voice. At that moment, Mystra knew she was completely done for. She was violently turned around, and she faced the ghost of Carter. "One more death, you know. One more until my job is complete," he said. "What job?" asked Mystra, already knowing who he was going to kill.
"This job..." Soon she felt a white-hot pain racing through her veins. She couldn't move. Couldn't talk. She couldn't even breathe. Her very soul had been sucked out of her. She dropped limply to the floor. Her body was left to rot there, just like that of her old husband.
(You may now start from a different character or read the second ending for this story)
YOU ARE READING
Festival of the Dead
Mystery / ThrillerEverything was perfect at the autumn festival in the small England town. People were walking around, occasionally stopping at one of the small shops that lined the streets. Among these people was Euandros, the local blacksmith; Guinevere, the unoffi...
