Page 1 of 2 12 LastLast
Results 1 to 20 of 38

Thread: Ghost of a Chance

  1. #1
    Emilie
    Guest

    Closed Roleplay [WoD] Ghost of a Chance

    It started with the whispers.

    The bottom floor flat heard them first, but the occupants wrote them off as a malfunctioning heater, steadfastly refusing to believe they were actual words. So the whispers infected the building upward leading to arguments between the husband and wife upstairs. By the time the third floor heard the whispers there was a shadowy figure appearing on the first floor, quietly keening whenever you least expected it. The roommates promptly broke their lease and moved out, claiming a horrific ghost was haunting them.

    The landlord, Mr. Greene, wondered if they'd found out about the murder of a previous renter and were making up a story. By the time the second floor flat ran screaming from the building, yelling about a haunted kitchen, he was resigned to losing yet another crop of renters.

    He dialed a number, one a "sensitive" friend had left him when she'd heard about his haunted building. Ridiculous, really, but with Halloween around the corner perhaps it wouldn't hurt to have someone out to take care of the problem. Or perhaps he could get the ghost tour to stop by, and make some money off the situation. Mr. Greene hesitated with the phone, unsure of his course of action.
    Last edited by Emilie; Nov 7th, 2013 at 03:24:46 PM.

  2. #2
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    It had been about half an hour since Jack had pulled up on the street opposite the flat. He'd edged his car into a space on the pavement on the opposite side of the street and since then had been sitting in the drivers seat of the VW Golf, with his hands still on the steering wheel. In the half an hour that he'd been sitting there, afternoon had given way to evening and darkness was creeping into the terraced street. Taking a deep breath, Jack closed his eyes for a moment – and immediately regretted what he saw.

    “Fuck sake,” he breathed, eyes snapping open as he braced his palms against the wheel. “Come on.”

    Rolling his shoulders to shake off the chill that threatened to wash over him, he shoved the car door open and – not looking twice – crossed the road, towards a battered looking 'TO LET' sign. The flat didn't look much from the outside and given the price they were asking, it couldn't have been much on the inside either – but cheap was what he needed. Cheap and quick. Somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't the place he'd shared with Sean.

    Stepping up to the front door, he'd barely even touched the doorbell when someone answered.

    “Uh.. I've come for the viewing.”

  3. #3
    Emilie
    Guest
    Mr. Greene smiled as widely as he could, which had the unfortunate affect of making him look a bit like a frog. "Yes, yes! Come in. We were just about done - but yes, here's the flat, just in here. You have a kitchen, two bedrooms, living room. One bathroom, just here..." Jack was pulled through into the flat and given a whirlwind tour. "It comes furnished, but we can remove the things if you have your own."

    The landlord took a breath, leaning against the side of the sofa, and blinked expectantly at the young man who was looking around himself. "It's been recently updated, very nice for the price we're asking."

  4. #4
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    The tour was brief, but there wasn't a lot to see. It put Jack in mind of an Ikea show room, right down to the art on the walls. It didn't look lived in, not when you first took it in, but it was rough around the edges. Too many footsteps on the carpets had worn them down and where the walls met the high ceilings there was a dab of paint whiter than the rest, where there'd undoubtedly been some damp covered up. When the viewing brought them back to the living room, Jack stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the blank screen of the television.

    It didn't look anything like the flat he'd shared with Sean and that was what he needed.

    “How soon's it available?”

  5. #5
    Emilie
    Guest
    "N-now, actually." Mr. Greene smiled that too wide smile again. "It's available now." He paused, as if he were about to say something, and then didn't, so the silence stretched on a bit.

    "Well then," he said, pushing off from the wall with a lurch. "I have some paperwork already written up, we'd just need to fill in the dates. How long of a lease are you looking for? Six months? And there would be a small deposit, half a month's rent. Since this is mid month your first actual rent payment would be less than usual, if you were to move in immediately." Please, please move in immediately. His expression wasn't very good at hiding what he was thinking.

  6. #6
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    Jack blinked. When he looked at Mr. Greene, he didn't see the face of a man desperate to fill a vacancy or hear the edge to his voice, that uncertainty that said he probably would have waived the deposit if he'd been pushed. “Where do I sign?”

    Three days later, he had discovered that all his worldly possessions – at least the ones that he could stand to keep – barely filled the back-seat and boot of the Golf. He'd lugged the boxes and bags into the hall, just inside the front door, but hadn't gotten a lot further than that. Even his toothbrush wasn't unpacked. Instead, he'd stopped by a 24-hour Tesco Express nearby and bought a new one, along with a 12-pack of Heineken, a loaf of bread and a 'family sized' pack of crisps. So far, everything but the Heineken was untouched.

    Jack slouched into the sofa, staring into the still dark screen of the television as he took a long swig of his second beer.

    “Happy house-warming, Bradley,” he said to the silence in the flat, lifting the beer bottle in a mock toast.

  7. #7
    Emilie
    Guest
    Ssssssssss

    A faint sound drifted through from the kitchen, as if something was leaking air. Just when Jack began to notice it, the sound stopped. Then, after a few moments...

    Ssssssshelp messsssss

    The hissing noise stopped again, then started and stopped.

  8. #8
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    Beer still in hand, Jack got to his feet and paced out of the living room. He stood in the darkness of the hall, listening. It's an old building, the landlord had said, and like so many houses of its time it's quite.. vocal. The grumble of the boiler, the rattle of the windows, the creak and sigh of the joints and floorboards settling. But a hiss? Jack sniffed. The air in the flat still didn't smell like 'home' but it didn't smell like a gas leak either. He padded barefoot into the kitchen where the sound seemed to be coming from and checked the cooker, confirming that he hadn't left the gas on.

    With a mental shrug, he knocked back the last of his beer, added the empty to the collection on the kitchen counter and pulled open the fridge, the light inside spilling out into the darkness of the kitchen. Save for the Heineken's, the only thing inside was a tub of butter and jar of something that had been left behind by the previous residents which looked like jam; Jack hadn't mustered the effort to get rid of it yet.

  9. #9
    Emilie
    Guest
    As Jack turned from the fridge, he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye, like a scarf floating upward on a breeze. The wind outside the flat moaned like it was mid-winter rather than summer, rattling the kitchen window and back door.

    It took him a moment to realize that there was no wind outside.

  10. #10
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    It was an odd thing, getting used to a new home. Had he just imagined the movement outside? It seemed unlikely that there'd be birds flapping about the place at this time of night.

    Jack checked the latches on the windows then paced to the back door, thumbing the latch open and leaning out into the cool night air. The back door and yard clearly hadn't been part of Mr Greene's refurbishment. The door was fitted with a cat flap which had been gaffer taped shut; the back yard was empty save for a wheelie bin and half a dozen ceramic plant pots contained yellow grasses and wilting flowers. In the moonlight, Jack could see the glistening trail left by a snail meandering away from the back door and towards the stone stairs that lead to the upstairs flat.

    He stood, silent, in the doorway feeling somehow... not alone. Somewhere outside of the redbrick walled yard, he could hear music and the murmur of a television coming from elsewhere in the street, but – that wasn't it.

    He frowned at the shadows.

    “...'lo?”

  11. #11
    Emilie
    Guest
    "Hello." The voice was clear, and accented, and came from behind him, in the kitchen.

  12. #12
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    The last thing he'd expected was a reply. Panic shot up his spine and jerked his hand upward as he snapped around, the now empty bottle of Heineken poised to glass whoever had gotten into the flat.

    “Who the fu-”

  13. #13
    Emilie
    Guest
    The kitchen was empty.

    Right at Jack's ear a voice breathed in a soft French accent, "You are different than the others...somehow..."

  14. #14
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    The bottle slipped from his fingertips, green glass shattering against the kitchen floor. Jack swore again, eyes dipping for only an instant before he was glaring accusations into every shadow. He slapped at the wall behind him, the heel of his palm catching the light-switch. Even with every corner of the room illuminated, there was no one to be found.

    “Look – I don't know where you think you are – but this is my flat now, y'hear?” he yelled, at no one and nothing. He could hear Sean in his voice: the bravado, the brash courage in the face of who knows what. “So clear out before I throw you out.”

  15. #15
    Emilie
    Guest
    The lights flickered and the temperature dropped around him, and then she was there, across the kitchen table from him. Her hair and clothes floated as though she was underwater, and she was faint, transparent enough to see the stove behind her.

    "Throw me out then, big boy," she said, her words somehow not fitting with her ghostly appearance. "Better men have tried." Her hand trailed against the top of the table - a different table of course, but in the same spot as always.

  16. #16
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    The full-body shiver that washed over Jack was nothing to do with the cool evening air at his back and everything to do with what his brain was struggling to process: a woman who had just appeared, and yet inexplicably, had not. There was nothing and then there was – what. She wasn't there, but she was. It was like an old, film camera had somehow processed two negatives onto the same print and the image of her had been faintly superimposed over the image of his new kitchen. Split second thoughts rattled and rebounded against the inside of Jack's skull, reactions and responses half-forming then evaporating into nothing in the same instant. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, not even a breath.

    He licked his lips, his brain defaulting to the only explanation that was plausible.

    “This is a joke. Some kind of joke.”

  17. #17
    Emilie
    Guest
    "You have connections," the apparition continued, as though he had not spoken. She was starting to look more real, her hair retaining it's floaty look even as it grew less transparent. Her clothes subtly shifted from ghostly cloth to a dull metallic armor over a ragged white tunic and pants, the breastplate crisscrossed with a barbed wire pattern that was continued down the bracers and greaves. Her exposed skin had bruising as if the design had hurt her, and there were arcane markings on her arms and a faint third eye drawn on her forehead.

    "I need your help." She ran her fingertips across the table.

  18. #18
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    “Fuck. Fuck,” the word tumbled out faster the second time, and quicker still on the third.

    “Fuck. This is.. fuck.”

    The ground no longer felt level beneath his feet. Jack took a step backwards and felt himself wobble, his head swimming like he'd necked a bottle of something strong and just stood up for the first time to realise that he was irresponsibly drunk. It wasn't the drink, though, was it? He'd been hitting it pretty hard since Sean -

    Something knotted and twisted in the pit of his stomach. Jack gasped for breath, lips pursed tightly shut as he looked up at the starless sky, trying to think about anything but Sean – but the more he tried, the harder it was. He didn't deserve to forget what he'd done – how he'd run away like a coward and left Sean lying there, a broken and bloody mess. Bile rose in his throat and Jack clamped a hand over his mouth as he sniffed a damp sniff.

    Pressing his lips together tightly to keep them from trembling, Jack forced himself to look through the open doorway to the kitchen. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

    “This is.. because of... Sean isn't it,” he managed in a whisper.

  19. #19
    Emilie
    Guest
    She thought for a moment, the silence stretching on. "Yes." He seemed to wilt, and she continued, "And no.

    "It has to do with Fetters. You will help me destroy one." Emilie stared at him, noting the clamminess of his skin. "You should sit."

  20. #20
    Jack Bradley
    Guest
    Yes, she said, and Jack stopped listening because he knew that was the truth. What he was seeing – what he was feeling – was all because of Sean. There had been a time not too long ago when the most Jack Bradley and his cousin had faced together was a rough hangover. Then, quite out of the blue, a day had come when Sean had revealed something unexpected: a secret life that neither Jack nor any of the rest of their family knew about. Against all reason and sense, Jack had volunteered to become part of that life. Within a week, he'd witnessed his first kill. Sean was hunting vampires. Not just vampires, but other creatures too. Things that he said were hiding in plain sight all around them.

    It was not the first time Jack had been face to face with death. Working as part of an ambulance crew had a way of ensuring he'd built up a certain level of – not tolerance, but readiness where viscera and violence was concerned. He didn't balk at the sight of blood, but there was nothing that could have made him ready for the past month, or.... this. He sank down onto the kitchen floor, shoving the back door shut as he went. Learning a shoulder against the side of a cupboard, he looked slowly back towards the woman standing over the kitchen table.

    Not a woman. A thing.

    “What are you?”

Page 1 of 2 12 LastLast

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •