GoT Writings

Week 4, Day 5, story, haunting

Rivalry

The ghost of Frances Bosher is said to roam these parts. She is an incredibly large, angry woman of indeterminate age. She knows she is no longer alive, but she fears the journey to the other side. The hell she knows is better than the one that is waiting over there. No one is allowed to challenge her on any issue. The hell she metes out is not worth the risk.
There are extreme amounts of deadly anger greeting each visitor to the property. A lot of bad things, brutal things, savage things happen here. Frances took the brunt of severe abuse when she was alive, and now she has the privilege and ability to give it back. And she does in very peculiar ways.
Stress and terror weave their magic through the living. That’s Frances. She goes after relationships first, then the weak ones – and there are always sappy ones and frail ones. Her touch burns the skin. Frances delights in scratching words and pictures into the flesh of the humans. ‘They think they are so strong,’ Frances smirks. And they pay for those thoughts when she manipulates the air to create sounds of footsteps and banging of objects. She cackles each time a head swivels to look for her, the source of the sound they dislike. When she feels particularly malicious she will waft the smell of rotting flesh to the people in a room. She has relieved more than one family gathering of any enjoyment in the party and they soon find their ways away from the stench and return to their own homes quickly.
The dead tones of the realtor warned, “She wants the park and the home to herself. The living must go.”
The realtor came out of the trancelike state. “Sorry. I think I went off a bit there.”
Beldon looked at the realtor in curiosity. “You said this place is haunted by this Frances Bosher person.”
The realtor nodded. “I would love to sell this place to you. Frances is not that bad.” The realtor’s eyes slid back in his head.
Beldon snapped his fingers in front of the realtor’s face. “Hey, hey.” Snapping his fingers, poking his shoulder, did not help. The realtor was back in the trance and imparting more advice.
She boasts to all who dare to come near with their questioning of what she is doing and why. ‘I haunt them. I do it very well. They will be insane by the time I make them leave.’ That’s the taunt Frances whispered on the flow that glides through the rooms.
She dislikes the others spirits who also roam the grounds. There is one who will not come away from the park. He tries to hide and stay quiet, but Frances always finds him. He is weaker than the living. She gains much pleasure from her torment of this subpar ghost.
“She wants the park and the home to herself. The living must go.”
Beldon was now intrigued. “Hey, hey. What other ghosts? There is more than one?”
Shaking off the remnants of the trance, the realtor apologized, “I can’t say there are ghosts. I’m just trying to sell this property.”
Beldon was curious, “Show away. And start with the second floor.” He had to see who was up there that had been staring at him through the second floor window. If the lovely nymph really was a ghost, Beldon would make an offer on this place.
As he entered the mansion, Beldon knew he had been her before and this was home. He could hear the whispers on the wind, “Beldon, what took you so long?”
Taking the stairs two at a time, Beldon outdistanced the realtor. He needed to see if Annabelle was here. That was her name. Beldon had to find out if she was still here. And she was. “Annabelle!”
“It is me. I can’t stay much longer. I just had to see you again before I go.”
“No. Please stay. I will be with you.”
“Frances will not like it.”
Beldon recalled the conversation with the realtor, the contact with Annabelle, the attacks by Frances. He bought the place anyway. He needed to be with Annabelle.
[word count:701]
and "Game of Thrones"