Ghost Stories (A Sanscest Story)

A Garbled Message

"Did you do it?" The spirit was back. The skeleton could sense it. They were in the black room. The photo development room at the school. The skeleton used it often. The skeleton gave a quiet nod. He'd dropped off the package, as promised.

The spirit giggled as it swayed, tentacles lashing behind it. "So lucky I found you!! Such a clever monster!" The spirit almost seemed to purr out. The skeleton scowled. He hadn't really been given that much of a choice. This thing had attached itself to him like a leech. He turned his attention back to the photos.

He watched them in the containers, pictures slowly coming into focus. A painful feeling ripped through his body. He inhaled sharply as he felt ghostly hands on his shoulders and the spirit's voice sounded over his shoulder. "You miss him, don't you?"

The words sent an involuntary tremble down the skeleton's body. "Of course I miss him..." He muttered irritably, crossing his arms. It was more for comfort than it was out of annoyance. He quickly nudged the bridge of his glasses up once more.

The pictures were clear. A brick wall spattered in dust. A black-red jacket with a fluffy yellow hood lay in a pile of dust in the next picture. Just looking at it brought the skeleton pain. "He was my only real friend." His voice shook for a moment.

The spirit giggled. "And you're upset because you wanted to be more... right?" The question was surprisingly soft for such a delirious voice and the skeleton nodded, rubbing his head with one bony hand. "I can help you! Let me help you!"

The skeleton didn't answer for a moment, clearly untrusting of the spirit. He yelped as he was dragged backwards and the spirit materialized itself next to him, its one gold eye burning. "You can't get rid of me. You should allow me to be useful and it will be less painful for the both of us."

It sounded like a suggestion, but anyone listening could tell it wasn't. He watched the spirit drift up to where photos were already clipped up and drying off. "You have a question. I can sense it burning in your throat." The spirit hummed with a crooked smile.

The skeleton stared up at it. He still couldn't believe he was looking at and speaking to a real ghost. There had been no real evidence proving that ghosts were real, so he'd never believed in them.

Over the course of him studying the ragtag group, he found himself believing more and more. Then, to have one approach him, attach itself to him, and speak to him so casually was a bit jarring.

But its words sank in and his gaze darkened. He did have a question. The problem? Was he sure he wanted to know the answer? He knew what the spirit was doing. It was clearly trying to manipulate him into seeking revenge. As if him trying to bring all the self-proclaimed "Bad Guys" to justice wasn't enough.

He was building his case. He had a copy of everything he'd sent to the mansion. Once he was finished developing the pictures, he would take it to the principal and explain thoroughly why they shouldn't be in school, but rather in jail.

Oh. His gaze moved up slowly to fix on the picture of a monotone skeleton. Ever so faintly, one could make out ghostly chains attaching what seemed to be a human to him. That one was fascinating. Definitely worth some research.

A whistle pulled him back to reality. The spirit smiled down at him. "You want to know who killed him. You want to know why." The spirit voiced his suppressed thoughts and the skeleton ducked his head. He spoke in a strangled voice, saying it wasn't that important.

He jumped as he suddenly felt a cold finger under his chin, lifting it. The spirit had solidified its hand for the moment. It almost seemed to purr as it tipped its head. "Oh, but it IS important! At least, to you, it is!" It gave another delirious little giggle. Its tentacles caught the skeleton's attention.