Post by Queen of Hearts on May 20, 2010 11:43:57 GMT -5
Entity:
What happens after one wanders from this life to the next? If that's what happens anyways. Sometimes you just hang around in a sort of waiting room. Its the best way that such things could be described. Being made out of pure energy one had a lot of options, so many things that weren't open to one in life. Being awake or half away made for confusion and for other more earthly entertainments. Yet sometimes people didn't notice those things that were unseen, those things that went silently towards ones mind. Some might call it a ghost or spirit. Others would be more daring and use the word demon. Who knew really, perhaps it was just a random pocket of energy which decided to collect in this house. But it was more than that, at least this one specific being. Energy could change and transmute into other forms of intelligence. Just the way of things. If this is confusing so far try living in the moment. Wandering through walls and only being half aware that you had actually passed through a wall. Days and nights spent looking at beings who still were in flesh times. Still had a physical body. Those that went through the rat race of life, and the maze of their own choosing. Its best to just learn as one was attempting to make sense of it all. The mind would still wander into unseen places, and oddly enough mirrors held some kind of attraction. Gateways or other theories. It was confused. It was confusing. The first day drew to a close in the jumble-sale of sharp events. Knocking and bumping sounds mostly. Yet that didn't make sense did it? Something without a body able to bump into things. The joys of being only somewhat aware and utterly invisible. At least to itself.
Night seemed to bring another side of in the energy, it would bring forth a whole new set of rules. Those still in the flesh times would see this as a time of fear, something to be abhorred and aught against. Those with particularly strong emotions would get the best reactions while lurking about. One could say that it knew of itself that it was learning and evolving as time passed by. Gaining a sort of self-aware function as things took shape and progressed. Footsteps. Slowly as if stalking through this world and the next. But not really transferring itself from world to world, more or less where a being of pure energy could exist. The Land of the Dead? The Astral Plane? Other Realm? So many names in so many different thoughts and ideas. It was as it was. Interesting and interested in what went on in this house. A lone person during most times. Able to just sit back and relax, watching things as they unfolded. There were certain rooms that it hung around, certain rooms which it felt more comfortable in. Certain rooms where aggression was fun. Sometimes, just sometimes it had to wonder if it was noticed. If it was taken stock of and even understood. Sounds were the most common thing. Usually those of movement. But that wasn't all that it could effect upon the physical world. The dead or whatever this was happened upon the living all to often. If not for a companion but for what they could give a being of nothing more than thought. Being without form was frustrating. Seeing the living was even more frustrating. Perhaps that is why the air sometimes turned ice cold. Shadows becoming more than shadows and slowly starting to take shape. It might last for several minutes and then be gone. Going from room to room, perhaps following the progress of the living. Those devices. Such interesting things. A box of lights. Which seemed to sap the attention span of anything who was near them. Brilliant. It was attracted to the flickering lights. It at time held a story, a sea of emotions in itself.
It almost had something like a hand, at least something that could manipulate physical objects. In this case a door. A warning or greeting? Who knew. It slid open with such utter slowness that it made that typical horror movie sound. Creaking in the stillness of night which was something to be frightened of. It had gained that knowledge from experimenting. Calculating the reactions were interesting. In a way this was a case study on the fear rating that humans held when attempting to deal with something of this nature. Most of them would run and scream, being driven back to a place in their mind where ignoring the sounds would be acceptable. That was just their way. Ignoring and keeping ones self safe from things which couldn't possibly be real. Though a form could be changed so quickly and easily, what did a hand matter? Yet it did for this particular thing. It was amused in the reactions that it had gotten. Little things over the passage of time. A touch. Especially when nobody else but the one occupant was in the house. That's when it was most active. Other people being there meant it had to skulk around waiting for them to leave. At that point the nights got interesting and sometimes frightening. The human mind could accept many things but the stray touch of something that wasn't seen? Not a fun situation for most. The nightly touch had become a welcomed part of its haunts. Gathering up enough force to do this sometimes required minutes. It would fade in and out. But it was learning. Learning to control these moments of wandering lust. Not in the way which it would be controlled or restrained. In the way upon which it itself could improve the technique.
Perhaps it was just ones imagination, one had to consider that along with sanity. Yet when it came nearly at the same hour and location perhaps the reality was starting to dawn. One got used to their habits, and this habit always centered around the waistline. Fingers perhaps brushing against the skin there. It might feel like a slight tickling on flesh. That's how it started, in almost an innocent exploring manner. Testing the waters to even see if things were noticed. That was the downside to not having a body, if it ever had a physical form to begin with. One that would notice would react. One that couldn't? Well that was another frustrating area. But this particular person had indeed noticed. Little by little and probably trying to figure out if she was just bored or hopeful. Humans were fun. Humans were warm. It was almost like some sort of heat vampire. There were times when it was aware of thinking it had a body, in those moments things became rather solid. Arms wrapped around the being who's heart still beat. Nobody would be around for those events for those experiences. One living. One not so much. But it could still manipulate things to give an impression that it had a body. As the nights rolled on it became easier to hold a physical form. A most interesting way to learn things. At its heart a predator of specific tastes. Like a slowly simmering pot of water, its progression was gradual.
Emi:
A single crimson drop rolled down the pale thumb, creasing in the palm; emerald eyes regarded it in fascination, following the track that it left. Always the blood recalled the horrific scene of the accident; the splashes across the window that looked as if they'd been negligently thrown by a bored artist, the gray bits of brain matter resembling oatmeal flung by a bored toddler, white shards of skull like eggshells delicately placed within. The images were stark in her mind, dripping thumb forgotten as the sounds of that night rang in her ears; the shriek of tires, the screams, the surprisingly gentle plinking of glass shards upon the pavements. Emi was so overwhelmed in sound that she was unaware of the call of her name, or the scolding nearby, until her arm was tugged and she blinked once, then focused on the woman pressing a clean white towel to her hand. The linen reminded her of the bandages from that night; wrapped around, staunching the bleeding from the glass that had sheared through her leg. The memory of the exposed muscle was vivid enough that she glanced to her leg, hidden beneath her skirt, as if to ascertain if it bled once more. Flash back to the female in front of her, an aunt apparently waiting explanation. Emi's mind was blank, what did she want? Eyes the shade of malachite blinked once, twice, then flicking to the wrapped palm and lightened with clarity.
“The rose, it was the rose, a thorn. It's nothing.” Her voice was subdued but musical, as if on the verge of a gentle song, though music had not passed through the soft lips in longer than she cared to remember. The aunt insisted on peroxide and led Emi within, unnoticing of the rose petals she crushed underfoot; though the girl saw, a spike of sorrow in her heart for the waste, the useless destruction of a living thing. Through the foyer they traversed, passing the great mirror in the hall, Emi's jade gaze lingering upon in, searching for that...something she saw sometimes within. All it reflected was her own wan face, made paler by the mourning she wore. Slowly tuning into the diatribe issuing forth from the elder relative, about taking care of herself and perhaps the aunt ought to move in. “NO!” The other woman stepped back with the shout, hurt glimmering in the tired eyes, Emi suddenly seeing the deep grief within them. “No,” she said again, softly, a light touch upon the cheek of her companion. “I need to be alone yet..” Alone with her ghosts in this once full house, now empty barring herself just barely an adult; needed to be away from the family traipsing in and out, strange people sorting her father's ties, mother's jewelry, the brothers and sister's things.
The rooms were all empty now, though the furniture remained, the life was gone; personal effects divvied up according to the will. She drifted from empty room to empty room now, the woman having left as dusk fell and the noises began. The other would say old houses naturally make noises, her jitters caused her to see things in the reflective surfaces of the house, but Emi knew something was there. Something had touched her hip once in the darkness, she was certain, though she knew there was no one for her to tell, none to confide in. The last time she'd tried, had stubbornly insisted, the relatives began discussing a restful place for her to go away to. A restful place with padded walls and straight-jackets. The recollection drifted through her memory along with a catalogue of the strangeness within the domicile. It seemed many, though all so easily explained away by others wiser who would know better than she. Few nights had been spent here in utter quiet during her life, filled with family now vanished, perhaps she was not yet used to the lack of human presence. And yet, she could not fully convince herself that it was all imagination, the touch had felt..solid. Not a wisp of wind or a brush of cloth, it had been a hand, her whole being was certain of it, and yet nothing there each time the lights were switched.
Lately even that had shifted, the last few times had felt more full, more like the arm of a lover wrapped around her. Not that the girl had extensive experience with such; but she imagined just like that, strong arms holding her, protecting her from the world..the world that had cruelly left her alone in it. Perhaps she was making it up in her head, needing a knight in shining armor so badly. Emi was confused and conflicted on that point, eyes darting around as if the answers would manifest before her. A casual glance down caught the exposed wound upon her thumb, bandage crumpled in opposite fist. Confusion, then apathy flitted across her face, letting the blooded bandage fall to the floor, trailing in her wake like ribbon. Vaguely aware of the gnawing of hunger, Emi blankly stared at the spotless kitchen that she had barely used, then padded across cold tile barefoot to reach for the icebox, absently pulling free a microwave dinner. A few moments cooking where she stared blankly out the window into the darkness beyond, and then she ate the meal, tasting none of it. The clinking of the spoon in the sink startled her and she frowned at it as if it question how it dared pierce the silence, or perhaps how it moved from her hand. Trash disposed of, she made her way back into the depths of the house, slowly climbing the carpeted stairs, silence like death oppressing her in the confines of her passed family's quarters.
Folded towel, robe from closet; following the dictates of a pattern instilled from childhood, by a mother whose embrace would never be felt again. These were then settled upon the counter of the bathroom, the hues of peach reflecting upon her skin to heighten the sallow. Mother had thought the dulcet tones of pastel suitable for a girl's bathroom, though the recipients had not been fond of the choice. Or the size, Emi recalling the shoving matches and rearranging of accouterments of her sisters. Now it was empty; one toothbrush, one hairbrush barely noticeable on the expanse of counter. Green eyes lifted to regard herself, catching a flash of someone behind her, whirling in fright..and nothing. The door was closed and locked as before, the shower open and empty, no intruders, nothing but she alone in the bathroom. A glance back at the mirror, now empty, one shaking hand running through auburn locks, then a deep breath to calm rapidly beating heart. Imagination again. Sighing softly, she set her jaw and climbed into the shower, letting the calescent rain soothe her nerves and calm her spirit.
No more untoward incidents for the duration of the shower convinced her once again of the falsehood of her mind's inventions. She had firmly put all such hauntings into the back of her mind as she slipped from the bathroom; now wrapped in a ebon robe, soft against clean skin. Settling on the edge of her bed, Emi twisted her titian locks into a tight bun at the nape of her neck before double-checking the locks on her windows. She closed the blinds and then the curtains over those, and then locked her door and moved the trunk that lived at the foot of her bed in front of the locked door. Only then did she feel safe enough to relax, hanging the robe upon the door and pulling some neatly folded silk pajamas from her dresser. As she slipped them on, she felt that touch again at her side, glimpsed something in the mirror upon her dresser. Emi screeched and turned swiftly around to behold nothing once more. A few heartbeats of frantic searching around and then she closed her eyes and practiced a deep breathing meditation technique she had picked up from somewhere. “It's nothing, you're imagining things,” she repeated to herself out loud in a cadence as she completed her nightly ritual and climbed beneath the sheets.
What happens after one wanders from this life to the next? If that's what happens anyways. Sometimes you just hang around in a sort of waiting room. Its the best way that such things could be described. Being made out of pure energy one had a lot of options, so many things that weren't open to one in life. Being awake or half away made for confusion and for other more earthly entertainments. Yet sometimes people didn't notice those things that were unseen, those things that went silently towards ones mind. Some might call it a ghost or spirit. Others would be more daring and use the word demon. Who knew really, perhaps it was just a random pocket of energy which decided to collect in this house. But it was more than that, at least this one specific being. Energy could change and transmute into other forms of intelligence. Just the way of things. If this is confusing so far try living in the moment. Wandering through walls and only being half aware that you had actually passed through a wall. Days and nights spent looking at beings who still were in flesh times. Still had a physical body. Those that went through the rat race of life, and the maze of their own choosing. Its best to just learn as one was attempting to make sense of it all. The mind would still wander into unseen places, and oddly enough mirrors held some kind of attraction. Gateways or other theories. It was confused. It was confusing. The first day drew to a close in the jumble-sale of sharp events. Knocking and bumping sounds mostly. Yet that didn't make sense did it? Something without a body able to bump into things. The joys of being only somewhat aware and utterly invisible. At least to itself.
Night seemed to bring another side of in the energy, it would bring forth a whole new set of rules. Those still in the flesh times would see this as a time of fear, something to be abhorred and aught against. Those with particularly strong emotions would get the best reactions while lurking about. One could say that it knew of itself that it was learning and evolving as time passed by. Gaining a sort of self-aware function as things took shape and progressed. Footsteps. Slowly as if stalking through this world and the next. But not really transferring itself from world to world, more or less where a being of pure energy could exist. The Land of the Dead? The Astral Plane? Other Realm? So many names in so many different thoughts and ideas. It was as it was. Interesting and interested in what went on in this house. A lone person during most times. Able to just sit back and relax, watching things as they unfolded. There were certain rooms that it hung around, certain rooms which it felt more comfortable in. Certain rooms where aggression was fun. Sometimes, just sometimes it had to wonder if it was noticed. If it was taken stock of and even understood. Sounds were the most common thing. Usually those of movement. But that wasn't all that it could effect upon the physical world. The dead or whatever this was happened upon the living all to often. If not for a companion but for what they could give a being of nothing more than thought. Being without form was frustrating. Seeing the living was even more frustrating. Perhaps that is why the air sometimes turned ice cold. Shadows becoming more than shadows and slowly starting to take shape. It might last for several minutes and then be gone. Going from room to room, perhaps following the progress of the living. Those devices. Such interesting things. A box of lights. Which seemed to sap the attention span of anything who was near them. Brilliant. It was attracted to the flickering lights. It at time held a story, a sea of emotions in itself.
It almost had something like a hand, at least something that could manipulate physical objects. In this case a door. A warning or greeting? Who knew. It slid open with such utter slowness that it made that typical horror movie sound. Creaking in the stillness of night which was something to be frightened of. It had gained that knowledge from experimenting. Calculating the reactions were interesting. In a way this was a case study on the fear rating that humans held when attempting to deal with something of this nature. Most of them would run and scream, being driven back to a place in their mind where ignoring the sounds would be acceptable. That was just their way. Ignoring and keeping ones self safe from things which couldn't possibly be real. Though a form could be changed so quickly and easily, what did a hand matter? Yet it did for this particular thing. It was amused in the reactions that it had gotten. Little things over the passage of time. A touch. Especially when nobody else but the one occupant was in the house. That's when it was most active. Other people being there meant it had to skulk around waiting for them to leave. At that point the nights got interesting and sometimes frightening. The human mind could accept many things but the stray touch of something that wasn't seen? Not a fun situation for most. The nightly touch had become a welcomed part of its haunts. Gathering up enough force to do this sometimes required minutes. It would fade in and out. But it was learning. Learning to control these moments of wandering lust. Not in the way which it would be controlled or restrained. In the way upon which it itself could improve the technique.
Perhaps it was just ones imagination, one had to consider that along with sanity. Yet when it came nearly at the same hour and location perhaps the reality was starting to dawn. One got used to their habits, and this habit always centered around the waistline. Fingers perhaps brushing against the skin there. It might feel like a slight tickling on flesh. That's how it started, in almost an innocent exploring manner. Testing the waters to even see if things were noticed. That was the downside to not having a body, if it ever had a physical form to begin with. One that would notice would react. One that couldn't? Well that was another frustrating area. But this particular person had indeed noticed. Little by little and probably trying to figure out if she was just bored or hopeful. Humans were fun. Humans were warm. It was almost like some sort of heat vampire. There were times when it was aware of thinking it had a body, in those moments things became rather solid. Arms wrapped around the being who's heart still beat. Nobody would be around for those events for those experiences. One living. One not so much. But it could still manipulate things to give an impression that it had a body. As the nights rolled on it became easier to hold a physical form. A most interesting way to learn things. At its heart a predator of specific tastes. Like a slowly simmering pot of water, its progression was gradual.
Emi:
A single crimson drop rolled down the pale thumb, creasing in the palm; emerald eyes regarded it in fascination, following the track that it left. Always the blood recalled the horrific scene of the accident; the splashes across the window that looked as if they'd been negligently thrown by a bored artist, the gray bits of brain matter resembling oatmeal flung by a bored toddler, white shards of skull like eggshells delicately placed within. The images were stark in her mind, dripping thumb forgotten as the sounds of that night rang in her ears; the shriek of tires, the screams, the surprisingly gentle plinking of glass shards upon the pavements. Emi was so overwhelmed in sound that she was unaware of the call of her name, or the scolding nearby, until her arm was tugged and she blinked once, then focused on the woman pressing a clean white towel to her hand. The linen reminded her of the bandages from that night; wrapped around, staunching the bleeding from the glass that had sheared through her leg. The memory of the exposed muscle was vivid enough that she glanced to her leg, hidden beneath her skirt, as if to ascertain if it bled once more. Flash back to the female in front of her, an aunt apparently waiting explanation. Emi's mind was blank, what did she want? Eyes the shade of malachite blinked once, twice, then flicking to the wrapped palm and lightened with clarity.
“The rose, it was the rose, a thorn. It's nothing.” Her voice was subdued but musical, as if on the verge of a gentle song, though music had not passed through the soft lips in longer than she cared to remember. The aunt insisted on peroxide and led Emi within, unnoticing of the rose petals she crushed underfoot; though the girl saw, a spike of sorrow in her heart for the waste, the useless destruction of a living thing. Through the foyer they traversed, passing the great mirror in the hall, Emi's jade gaze lingering upon in, searching for that...something she saw sometimes within. All it reflected was her own wan face, made paler by the mourning she wore. Slowly tuning into the diatribe issuing forth from the elder relative, about taking care of herself and perhaps the aunt ought to move in. “NO!” The other woman stepped back with the shout, hurt glimmering in the tired eyes, Emi suddenly seeing the deep grief within them. “No,” she said again, softly, a light touch upon the cheek of her companion. “I need to be alone yet..” Alone with her ghosts in this once full house, now empty barring herself just barely an adult; needed to be away from the family traipsing in and out, strange people sorting her father's ties, mother's jewelry, the brothers and sister's things.
The rooms were all empty now, though the furniture remained, the life was gone; personal effects divvied up according to the will. She drifted from empty room to empty room now, the woman having left as dusk fell and the noises began. The other would say old houses naturally make noises, her jitters caused her to see things in the reflective surfaces of the house, but Emi knew something was there. Something had touched her hip once in the darkness, she was certain, though she knew there was no one for her to tell, none to confide in. The last time she'd tried, had stubbornly insisted, the relatives began discussing a restful place for her to go away to. A restful place with padded walls and straight-jackets. The recollection drifted through her memory along with a catalogue of the strangeness within the domicile. It seemed many, though all so easily explained away by others wiser who would know better than she. Few nights had been spent here in utter quiet during her life, filled with family now vanished, perhaps she was not yet used to the lack of human presence. And yet, she could not fully convince herself that it was all imagination, the touch had felt..solid. Not a wisp of wind or a brush of cloth, it had been a hand, her whole being was certain of it, and yet nothing there each time the lights were switched.
Lately even that had shifted, the last few times had felt more full, more like the arm of a lover wrapped around her. Not that the girl had extensive experience with such; but she imagined just like that, strong arms holding her, protecting her from the world..the world that had cruelly left her alone in it. Perhaps she was making it up in her head, needing a knight in shining armor so badly. Emi was confused and conflicted on that point, eyes darting around as if the answers would manifest before her. A casual glance down caught the exposed wound upon her thumb, bandage crumpled in opposite fist. Confusion, then apathy flitted across her face, letting the blooded bandage fall to the floor, trailing in her wake like ribbon. Vaguely aware of the gnawing of hunger, Emi blankly stared at the spotless kitchen that she had barely used, then padded across cold tile barefoot to reach for the icebox, absently pulling free a microwave dinner. A few moments cooking where she stared blankly out the window into the darkness beyond, and then she ate the meal, tasting none of it. The clinking of the spoon in the sink startled her and she frowned at it as if it question how it dared pierce the silence, or perhaps how it moved from her hand. Trash disposed of, she made her way back into the depths of the house, slowly climbing the carpeted stairs, silence like death oppressing her in the confines of her passed family's quarters.
Folded towel, robe from closet; following the dictates of a pattern instilled from childhood, by a mother whose embrace would never be felt again. These were then settled upon the counter of the bathroom, the hues of peach reflecting upon her skin to heighten the sallow. Mother had thought the dulcet tones of pastel suitable for a girl's bathroom, though the recipients had not been fond of the choice. Or the size, Emi recalling the shoving matches and rearranging of accouterments of her sisters. Now it was empty; one toothbrush, one hairbrush barely noticeable on the expanse of counter. Green eyes lifted to regard herself, catching a flash of someone behind her, whirling in fright..and nothing. The door was closed and locked as before, the shower open and empty, no intruders, nothing but she alone in the bathroom. A glance back at the mirror, now empty, one shaking hand running through auburn locks, then a deep breath to calm rapidly beating heart. Imagination again. Sighing softly, she set her jaw and climbed into the shower, letting the calescent rain soothe her nerves and calm her spirit.
No more untoward incidents for the duration of the shower convinced her once again of the falsehood of her mind's inventions. She had firmly put all such hauntings into the back of her mind as she slipped from the bathroom; now wrapped in a ebon robe, soft against clean skin. Settling on the edge of her bed, Emi twisted her titian locks into a tight bun at the nape of her neck before double-checking the locks on her windows. She closed the blinds and then the curtains over those, and then locked her door and moved the trunk that lived at the foot of her bed in front of the locked door. Only then did she feel safe enough to relax, hanging the robe upon the door and pulling some neatly folded silk pajamas from her dresser. As she slipped them on, she felt that touch again at her side, glimpsed something in the mirror upon her dresser. Emi screeched and turned swiftly around to behold nothing once more. A few heartbeats of frantic searching around and then she closed her eyes and practiced a deep breathing meditation technique she had picked up from somewhere. “It's nothing, you're imagining things,” she repeated to herself out loud in a cadence as she completed her nightly ritual and climbed beneath the sheets.