Terror. A dimension mirroring the living one--but morphed to reflect the imagination of its Overseer. And the current Overseer... has refused to relinquish her power for centuries, tormenting her souls--"terrors"--into becoming... zombies.
Arielle f...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He'd never see it, but Arielle smiled. She smiled at his clumsy attempt at holding open the door. At his mess of a bouquet that he handed his date in front of the car. And at his jumbled words to describe his favorite pastimes. Mr. Daniels was no Casanova, for sure; but Arielle couldn't stop swooning as he tried his hardest to seduce the lovely lady he'd asked out.
It was his first time taking such a solid step into the dating world. Arielle knew, because she'd been watching him. And she'd gathered from other ghosts—that she coaxed into talking to her—that since her death, he'd been miserable and inconsolable. He'd lost his son, his wife, his daughter; what was keeping him alive?
The spirits Arielle had spoken to, who'd been stuck in the Void for a while, unaware that they had unfinished business to solve, had been happy to deliver information to her. Those who'd watched Mr. Daniels for months, hoping to see him come out of his depression, obliged. Though it had shocked them to meet Arielle, at first, they'd given her what she'd asked for. "I'm your new Overseer," she'd told them, though it wasn't completely true. They didn't need to know that; it was enough for them to understand someone gave a damn about them. That the Penelopes were long gone—their locations still unknown—and true order was in store for all the realms.
So Arielle traveled throughout her almost unlimited perimeter, guiding ghosts, explaining the Void, helping them learn the ways of their new life. Things hadn't quite sorted out in Terror yet, so few were the terrors who peeped in to scare the spirits, as was custom. It would take time, the Being had warned her; and she'd wait, she'd do her job no matter how long it took for things to regulate.
Watching her father's progress from depressed and unhealthy to borderline joyful and hopeful had given her all the peace she needed. If he was moving on, if he'd accepted her death—unsolved as it remained—then she could move on, too.
Earlier, she'd checked in on Stella's father, too, and Stella's grandmother. Her father was a stern man, unbreakable, rarely showing emotion. He hadn't quite recovered from his wife and daughter's deaths, but took care of the family business, watching over Stella's precious grandmother. And the grandmother continued her seances, swearing to anyone who listened that she'd spoken with her daughter, and with Stella.
It pained Arielle to know she was lying. Or delusional, if she believed that. The woman's powers were real—not that Arielle had ever doubted them—but the creatures she contacted weren't who she'd been expecting. And if she knew, she played quite a game of acting like she was chatting with her deceased family members. A few times, Arielle had broken rules and made noises or left messages for her, to ensure she never gave up on her abilities. But unbeknownst to her, Mrs. Sullivan's after-life location remained unknown. And Stella... Stella was in the Soul Realm, or already reincarnated. There was no way to contact her. Her soul slept, tranquil in a white-blanketed space of silence, surrounded by similar souls. Stella was the one of the trio of friends who'd come to terms with herself, her origins, and ascended straight to the Soul Realm.
