[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [cm / hm / y] [3 / adv / an / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / x] [rs] [status / ? / @] [Settings] [Home]
Settings   Home
/qst/ - Quests

You finish the last, jagged scratch as you drag the dagger down along drywall, leaving a shaky line. The chalky, white space left underneath is quickly covered by the oozing waterfall of blood. You're sure you have deep red droplets of blood on your face and in your hair, not that it bothers you.

You step back and admire your handiwork, a crudely carved pentagram in the wall of this suburban home, a smaller star in the middle, blood trailing over the whole scene. You look down at your own hands, bloody up to the wrists, your dagger, which you now see is a kitchen knife, is similarly drenched.

A muted, rhythmic thumping sounds from behind you, the gait of an animal.

You don't need to look back to see the hoat standing behind you.

{Very good, Alice. You're getting good at this.}

"Thank you," you say, feeling a mixture of pride and disgust, a buzzing building in your mind.

{The barrier is getting weaker now. Once it's weak enough-



>QM Twitter
You open your eyes to the early rays of morning sunshine streaming through the circular window above your bed. The stifling heat of that empty house in your dream has been replaced by the chilled air of your attic bedroom. You feel your hammering heart slow. What a weird dream. Exhilarating, but a little scary. You sit up in bed and look across the length of your bedroom to the full-size mirror hanging on your bedroom door that leads to the steep, narrow, staircase downstairs. Looking back at you is a teenage girl with long, stringy hair that always seems a little too oily no matter what you do to it. You had dark circles under your eyes from you many sleepless nights that contrasted vividly with pale, sun-sensitive skin. You'd dreamed you were vandalizing an abandoned, bloody house with a goat and . . . Flying? Through a cemetery late at night and talking with dead "Prom Queens".

{Good morning, Alice. The goat was a dream, the cemetery wasn't.}

A voice in your head. A voice very similar to your own. Now you remember more clearly. No, last night hadn't been a dream. The chain of events that led to this moment unfolds in your mind.

You'd gone to Dennys for an early, before-school breakfast. A mistake in hindsight. You'd run into a longtime crush of yours, Chad Thaddeus and his icky girlfriend Holly. You'd got the crazy idea in your head to try to talk to him for once.

It was a disaster. Opposites attract, but it seemed you and Chad were oil and water. He was built, handsome, and charming, well, to most people anyway. To you . . . he barely seemed to register you as a living organism. No, he only had eyes for other girls. Less spooky girls. Girls like Holly who caked on makeup with a paint roller and reeked of cheap perfume. Not only was it a failure, but it was a humiliating failure. Everything about yesterday was pretty bad. Oh, well except for the part where you were willing possessed by a ghost . . . or a spirit? Well, whatever it was, it called itself your friend. Turns out that having the supernatural living inside you has fringe benefits. Gravity was just a suggestion to you now and solid objects didn't slow you down any more than a fogbank.

You'd also made a late night excursion to the local cemetery and met the ghost of a girl killed by a hit and run driver on prom night 1959.

{We've been very busy, haven't we, Alice?}

You rub your eyes blearily, "Yeah, I guess so."

{What will we do, today? Are we going to visit Ellie again?}

You shrug, "I dunno, I have school though, so I better get ready for that."
The hardwood floor in your bedroom is freezing cold and you dance back and forth on bare feet while you change out of your PJs and into real clothes. Midway through changing, you stop and cast a suspicious glance at your mirror again, of course catching your own gaze returning.

"So, you never really answered my question about if you were a guy or what," you say.

{Not in the way you would understand. Your body doesn't interest me, Alice. We're friends.}

"Okay, but still, sometimes I'm going to need a little privacy," you say, thinking how much having a mental roommate could potentially cramp your life.

{I'm not sure I like that, Alice. You promised we would be friends forever.}

The voice in your head wavers as it speaks, you're not sure if it's fear, or anger, or sadness, but it's distressing to you.

"Look, we need to get you out of my head just from time to time. I like being your friend, but I need to have my body to myself from time to time, understand?"

{Being away from you is frightening, Alice. But I'll do it for you since we are friends. I can't exist long without a vessel however.}

"Can't you just live in like . . . a shoe box or something?" you can't shake the image of an ethereal hermit crab now.

{The vessel generally needs to be alive, but sometimes something with high emotional value will do.}

High emotional value. You look at your modest stuffed animal collection at the far end of your bed. "What about a plushie?"

{Yes, I think one of those would work. But only for the short term.}

>Mr. Bearsley
A classic. Mr. Bearsly has been a longtime companion of yours, and has the scars to prove it. Some find the vacant sockets where his eyes once were unsettling, but you think eyes are the windows to the soul, and Mr. Bearsly has no soul.

>Cat (Cheshire)
You think you got this from Etsy a few years ago. What spooky girl doesn't love Alice in Wonderland? Especially one fortunate enough to be blessed with the same name. With a smile like that he can't be scary! . . . Right?

Yeah, not sure what the deal with that one is, but it's cute as the dickens! Part skeleton, part octopus, all adorable. Those little bony tentacles are so cute. You hope they'll stay as cute if they start moving on their own. . .
File: victorian-dolls.jpg (29 KB, 500x400)
29 KB
>>Super creepy porcelain doll

Come on, OP, no option for that?
Well you DO have porcelain dollies but . . . they're a little fragile. You'd be worried something might happen to them.
Good point. Put me down for skeleypus, then.

Kind of a shame that we're too old to have tea parties anymore, now that we have ghost friends that can possess objects...


NO ONE is too old for tea parties, anon.
File: Skeleypus.jpg (11 KB, 296x300)
11 KB
"Here," you say, plopping your Skeleypus in front of yourself. "This should do I think."

There's a strange sensation, like a long exhalation and then you feel a bit heavier than you did before.

On the bed, Skeleypus is still for a moment and then shivers to life, each of its fluffy, pink tentacles curling in turn.
You friend turns its dead eyes to you.

{It's lonely here but, I can stay for a while if need be. While we're parted you won't have any special powers though, Alice.}

It speaks in the high, airy voice of a child now, the way it had when it first came to you as a small glowing ball of light.

"I won't keep you there for too long," you say thoughtfully, "Just sometimes. A girl needs privacy. Now, turn around please." You weren't sure if it could actually see through those flat, black sockets, but it made you feel better.

With a short waddling gait and a ripple of arm movement, it turns around and faces the wall while you finish dressing. When you're done you pick up the plush animal, marveling that it seems to have somehow become weightier since you had your friend transfer over, not to mention it feels colder than it should. You place it back on your bed facing you again , and Skeleypus cocks its oversize head at you.

{Alice, you've done me a great favor by being my friend and I want you to know it's a favor I hope to return. The power you gain from me is just a side effect, it's not my only gift to you. What is it you want to do?}

"Do?" you ask.

It nods its head, struggling with the weight.

{Yes, I came to you because you called to me. I saw how you were struggling without me, the way those other children mocked you, I saw how you felt. We should improve our life. What is your goal?}

>Revenge against the people who hate me
>Make Chad mine
>Self-Improvement, I want to make myself better
>Write in
>>Write in
"Let's go on spooky adventures and solve murders."
>>Self-Improvement, I want to make myself better
>>Write in

Make friends (ghostly or otherwise), and beat Holly at her own popularity game.
Adding this >>1967007 to my pile.
>Self-Improvement, I want to make myself better


>Write ins

You put a finger to your lips and look up at the ceiling. "Well . . . "

{Yes, Alice?}

"I want to be better," you say, frowning. "I want to have friends. More friends than Holly."

{I see}

"I don't even care if they're alive or ghosts like Ellie. Oh!" An idea leaps into your head. "What about . . . If we use our powers for good? We could solve mysteries and murders and stuff. You know . . . Adventures!"

{That sounds fun, Alice. But I need to ask. Why do you want to solve murders?}

"Hmm? What do you mean?" you ask.

{I'm sorry but I don't understand you fascination with the dead. I told you in the cemetery that they are best left alone and forgotten.}

"The way people forget about me?" you counter.

{I see your point. Still, I have to insist, Alice. The line between life and death exists for a reason}

"We'll have to agree to disagree," you say. "Ellie asked for our helping finding her prom date."


"Yes! And I think we should start there," Thinking about that girl alone in that place day after day, year after year formed a lump in your heart.

{Alright, Alice. Because you're my friend, I'll help you.}

You smile. "Great! We'd better get going though."

{I agree.}

Your hair blows back for just a second and you feel yourself become light on your feet. Your friend is back in its home again.

You scoop up your school books and dump them into your skull-print back pack, pausing at the mirror to take another look at yourself. You wear a knee-length dress, black, boots, and a choker. Nothing too fancy, nothing out of the ordinary for you. Ordinarily it was one of your favorite outfits but . . . Your thoughts take you back to Holly and Chad at the Dennys and the way you'd stumbled over your own words.

You lock eyes with yourself, staring hollow-faced back. No, today would be different. You weren't the same as you were yesterday.

{You have me now.}

You start. "Can you hear what I think?" you ask.

{No, not really. But I can feel how you feel and you feel lonely.}

You weren't sure how true it was, maybe your new friend was more perceptive than you gave them credit for, but sometimes your mind seemed like an open book.

You pull open your bedroom door and clomp down the attic stairs into the rest of the house. The sound of clinking glass comes from the kitchen. Sounds like your sister was up and awake, from the quiet murmur of conversation, it sounded like her husband was also.
You swing open the kitchen and stand momentarily silhouetted there.

True to your suspicion, your sister, Grace is dining on a bowl of cheerios alongside her husband, Mark. As soon as they see you, they both pause their breakfast routine.

"Oh, Alice, good morning!" Grace says, her voice chipper but strained, she looks tired, long hours last night you assume. It seemed work for her funeral home that she ran from out of her house didn't respect schedules.

"Morning," you say, your voice quieter than you intended. You eye the food on the table, feeling a dull rumble in your stomach, but you catch sight of Mark watching you. Your sister and her husband were a full ten years older than you, not quite old enough to be your parents, but old enough, you supposed, top help take care of you. It was a barely concealed secret that Mark didn't approve of your general spookiness, either the intentional or the unintentional.

"Sit down and have some breakfast," Grace offers.

"No. No thanks," you say, "I'd better leave for school."

"Well," Mark says, resuming his breakfast, "Stay out of trouble, eh?"

You don't reply, instead you grab your jacket from a hook beside the door and pick up your set of keys and walking out into the brisk autumn air.

"Bye, Alice!" Grace calls, the door closing behind you.

You stand on the back steps of her house a moment longer just to listen to Mark and Grace.

"You didn't ask her where she was last night," Mark says, his tone frosty.

"I didn't want to trouble her. I think she had a rough day yesterday."

"You'd let her get away with murder," Mark replies. "You don't discipline her a little and she's gonna turn out even weirder than she has. When your parents-"

"Did she leave?" Grace interrupts.

You step off the porch and start walking to school.

{You don't like Mark, do you Alice?}

>I don't like many people
>He doesn't like me, what's the difference?
>I like Mark fine, I just don't feel comfortable around him. Or anyone really.
>Write in
>>He doesn't like me, what's the difference?
>"Not enough to eat him, Friend. If we go that route, we should avoid people who know us. Best to not make people suspicious of us."
>"Besides, I'd like to reserve that option for really bad people."
>He doesn't like me, what's the difference?


>Write in

You shrug, "He doesn't really like me I don't think. So maybe the feeling is mutual."

{I see}

"But I don't hate him enough to eat him, Friend," you add quickly.

You feel that strange fluttering sensation again, your friend laughing. If it had felt like a moth in a jar before, now it felt like a pigeon in a paper bag struggling for freedom.

"If I *do* decide to start doing . . . that to people we shouldn't do it to people who know us. It'd be best to not make people suspicious of us."

{Oh Alice, do you really think I'd want us to consume Mark?}

"Well, you wanted to eat Ellie." You glance around as you walk making sure no one else is picking up this strange one-sided conversation.

{Ellie would make a better meal. Although we can consume anyone you want. You might find you appreciate more power.}

"I'd like to reserve that option for really bad people," you say.

{Like Holly?}

"I don't know," you say. "Not yet. I'll worry about that later."

{I understand.}

You fall silent, pulling your iPod out of your bag and sliding in your earbuds.

Roselake was simultaneously the most normal and most bizarre place on earth. It was a small town, scenic, almost quaint. Sure, there was a mall, but it was a good drive out of town, much closer to Lasker City that you would suspect from its idyllic, wooded surroundings. Otherwise, it was a pretty standard small town. There was a trio of churches toward the "downtown" area. Baptist, Methodist, and a small Catholic church. Main Street was like something out of a time capsule with a pair of bars, a few antique stores, a diner, post office, etc.

What was strange about Roselake was how isolated it seemed. It wasn't brimming with yuppies or hipsters like you would expect. Nor was it surrounded by encroaching suburban sprawl, just a few quiet side streets like the one your sister lived on. People didn't tend to come to Roselake.

Sure, a small flock of tourists would sweep through with the changing leaves but they'd be gone back to New York and Florida before long leaving the town alone again. Not that you minded, it was just strange.

A breeze rushes down the street chilling your legs as you walk toward the school. It's only a fifteen minute journey all told, one that takes you past the light commercial section of town including the Dennys you stopped at yesterday. You stop outside at the edge of the parking lot and hook your thumbs through the straps of your backpack and look at the building apprehensively, seeing movement within. You *had* skipped on breakfast after all. But still, there was a chance Chad or Holly would be in there.

Thinking of Chad makes the pit of hunger in your stomach diminish, replaced instead by a tight knot in your gut. In gym class, when you normally sit alone by the bleachers, knees tucked to your chest, you'd sometimes watch Chad running laps or throwing passes on the field. Watching his body work in the sunlight and hearing him laugh.

You clutch the collar of your dress.


"Y-yes?" you stammer, snapping form your daydream and plucking your earbuds out to hear more clearly.

{Are you going inside?}

>Yeah, of course.
>No, I'll hang out at school until it starts
>Write in
>>No, I'll hang out at school until it starts
>>Write in
They got breakfast at the school cafeteria, right? Grab a bite there.
>No, I'll hang out at school until it starts


>School breakfast


>Yeah, of course.
"N-no, I think I'm just gonna walk to school." You turn and continue walking. "They've got breakfast there."

Your friend says nothing.

School of course is Roselake High. The Roselake Wildcats being the presiding stars. They were the envy of the local high schools.

The only reason you knew or cared about this sort of stuff was because Chad was captain of the football team. Otherwise, School was just another paving stone for you on the grueling path to adulthood. Sometimes, in your downtime you would sit high in the bleachers by the football field and look out over the hilly wooded expanse that stretched on behind the school. In the spring and summer it was a wavy green blanket of life and in the autumn, a red-gold-brown quilt of leaves.

This early, school was mostly quiet a few students studied in the halls before class, most were gathering in the cafeteria to snag some of the half-hearted breakfast it provided. You joined with this sorry lot. Hopping into the line and snagging yourself some food. You demur over the decision between what the school called 'breakfast pizza', some kind of bread, cheese and meat square, or a single serving of cereal, but ultimately go with the safe choice.

Retreating back to the main cafeteria, you pull up a chair and plop your backpack on the table beside you, fishing out your unfinished book on the Manson Family and start reading. After your first bite of cereal and the first paragraph of this page, you glance up and get an eyeful of an unwelcome sight. Another student on the far end of the cafeteria. You stiffen up and quickly dive back into your book, maybe he'd looked this way and you didn't want to send the wrong impression.
{Alice, who is that boy?}

"That's my ex," you say. "Franz." You keep your voice low so no one else can overhear you seemingly talking to yourself. They already think you're weird enough.

{Your Ex-boyfriend?}

You sigh, "Yes. He was a freshman year mistake that I'm still living with." You cast a glance upward while you pretend to read to look at him again.

In many ways, he seemed a natural fit with you, much more natural than Chad. Franz typically wore all black and had longish hair, which typically obscured one, or sometimes both, eyes. When you'd met him it was bleached out, but now it was dark save for a pink streak.

"Ugh." You watch as he laughs at a joke told by one of his friends, other students in the school's meager drama department. Franz wasn't ever on the stage, but functioned as a "lighting ninja" behind the scenes.

{Franz seems nice-}

"Well he isn't."

{What happened?}

"I found him making out with a girl named Sam." The same Sam who sat alongside him, laughing now. "He said they were just goofing off, but other people say he fingered her and stuff." You shiver in disgust.

{Hmm, maybe not such a nice person. Of course, that was a long time ago, wasn't it?}

"About three years," you say.

{Maybe you'd like to talk with him again, things could be different. Besides, if you want friends, you'll need to start somewhere.}

>Fine, maybe you're right (talk with Franz)
>No. He's gross and I'm done with him.
>And why do you care about me talking to my Ex?
>Write in
File: Roselake Hills.jpg (268 KB, 800x534)
268 KB
268 KB JPG
Forgotten flavor pic
>>No. He's gross and I'm done with him.
>No. He's gross and I'm done with him.
>Sam, though... Sam is a maybe. We had some good times together before he got sneaky.
>No. He's gross and I'm done with him.


"No, I don't think so," you say. "He's gross and I'm done with him."

{Okay, Alice. No problem. I'm sorry you have to put up with him.}

"Why, you want to eat him too or something?" you ask, studying Franz again from the corner of your eye, well,more accurately looking at Sam.

{I don't want to 'eat' everyone, Alice. I get the feeling that you're making fun of me.}

Sam wasn't like Holly, she was more real. She wore band T-shirts and had a genuine laugh. Her jeans were ripped and she wore some kind of green fatigue jacket that her long hair spilled over. Sam had been a longtime enemy of yours and you'd made sure she'd known it. Withering stares in the hallways at every possible chance and of course, stony silence.

Sam plucks Franz's fork form his hands and laughs when he snatches for it, gnashing her teeth back at him playfully.


"Yes? What?"

{Were you looking at that girl, Alice? Is that Sam?}

"It is," you say, focusing on your book again, avoiding the second half of his question.

{And how do you feel about her?}

"I hate her. She's gross too."

Your friend laughs in your mind.

{That doesn't feel like hate. This feels like something else. You think she's cute.}

You shrug and stir your cereal "I-I don't think about things like that. She's whatever."

{Alice, you might find yourself happier if we talk to her instead of Franz.}

"I don't know."

{Wouldn't it be nice to turn the tables on your 'gross' ex, Alice?}

Well . . . When put that way it did sound nice. You look at Sam again. Maybe what your friend said was true, Sam was definitely attractive and seemed approachable.

>I don’t think so, she's not my type
>Okay, I'll talk to her
>write in
>>Okay, I'll talk to her

inb4 spill goth spaghetti
>Okay, I'll talk to her
Probably should do it when he's not around her. Chances are he'd either act like a jerk to us, or act like a jerk to us in front of his friends, and creep on us when we're alone later.
>Okay, I'll talk to her . . . later

"Okay, okay," you say, thoroughly unable to enjoy your book, "I'll talk to her just . . . not now. Franz will probably say something and make everything weird."

{That's okay, Alice. There's no rush. I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you. I just want you to know that I want the best for you.}

"I appreciate it."

A bell rings, indicating classes would be starting soon. You hastily cram your book back in your bag, not daring to look back at Sam or Franz and stand up, tossing your spoon and Styrofoam cereal bowl in the trash while you rush to class. You were fortunate in that your first class of the day is also your favorite class


Maybe we could someday meet up with famous ghosts. Teddy Roosevelt would be cool to hang out with.
Gives us an excuse to head over to the library to find a yearbook from Ellie's year. Then we might get an idea of who Cliff was.


I wonder if we looked into the history of Roselake if we'd find any other mysterious deaths?
History. Really, in a way it wasn't just "history" but rather "history of the dead". Pretty cool, huh? Either way, Mr. Cook typically talked only about the most brutal stuff in class. Cook, you'd heard, had been a soldier in his prior life and it'd messed him up. Well, that part was your own assessment, but he'd spent a while talking about Edmund, Earl of Rutland getting stabbed in the heart in the during the Wars of the Roses. Edmund had been about 17 at the time of his stabbing and died while running for safety. What made it especially awesome was that this class was supposed to be American history.

Cook was cool in that he was easy to sidetrack and liked to detail the most gruesome aspects of history. Plus he didn't really seem to give a shit about anything other than rambling about people getting fucked up in the past.

Cook stood behind his desk as the class entered. "Welcome, welcome guys. Rich, c'mon, take a seat. Alice, it's not Halloween yet, right?"

Had anyone else addressed you like that you would have taken them to be making fun of you, and in a way, he was, but it was friendly, good-natured. You blushed a bit and wanted to say "Every day is Halloween."

"Uhm, every-"

"Alright guys-" he hadn't heard you at all.

You blush while trying to hide the fact that you're blushing, slumping quickly into your seat. You want to ask your friend about any historical ghosts you might be able to meet, but you're not sure how to talk to them without speaking out loud and that's certainly not something you want to get into now.

Even as Cook gathers his notes, you think about all the death's Roselake must have seen, including Ellie. You wonder if maybe she or Cliff would be in the 1959 yearbook in the library . . .

"Okay, so I know we got a bit sidetracked yesterday," Cook says, pacing before his desk, "With our little mental excursion over the pond, but I want to reign us in a bit. We're supposed to be talking about the Revolutionary War and, believe it or not, we have a piece of this in our own backyard." He sits on his desk, scanning the class, "Any of you heard of the Battle of Edenvale?"

A few hands in the back of the room, you don't raise yours, though you have heard of it. There's a few small headstones in Roselake Cemetery that mark casualties of that battle.

"Okay, second question, do any of you know what a musket ball does upon striking a human body?"

History class dismisses about half an hour later with you having a working knowledge of 18th century battlefield medicine including identifying symptoms of gangrene though, of course you still don't know exactly what everyone was fighting about at Edenvale.

{Alice, you seem nervous.}

"No," you lie. You were making a quick trip to your locker to switch out your history books for chemistry ones to prepare for your next class. Mundane in and of itself, except this was also the part of your day where you pass Sam in the hall.

{Alice, you can't lie to me you know. I promise you, there's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here to help you if you think you need it.}

"Okay . . ."

You make the book exchange and slam your locker door shut, swallowing and brushing back a stray lock of hair to tuck it behind your ear. You can't help but look over your shoulder.

There she is.

Sam's walking confidently down the hall, her arm full of books, the titles were incomprehensible to you because they were in Spanish. Sam nods at a friend and says a kind word as she passes. The band shirt she's wearing you can now see is a Twenty One Pilots shirt. You knew of them, but weren't the biggest fan. You were pretty sure they had a song in a movie or two you'd seen recently. It *was* a cool shirt though.

Okay, now or never.

>I like the shirt! Twenty One Pilots, nice. I've been thinking about listening them, any recommendations where to start?
>Spanish class huh? You're smart, I took French instead and it's so hard! Do you like it?
>{Hey Sam, nice shirt. Listen, are you doing anything after class today? I'm going to be doing a research project in the library and I thought maybe you might want to help}
>Write in
>>Spanish class huh? You're smart, I took French instead and it's so hard! Do you like it?
>Spanish class huh? You're smart, I took French instead and it's so hard! Do you like it?
File: Demartino.jpg (109 KB, 736x549)
109 KB
109 KB JPG
>Mr. Cook
>Spanish class huh? You're smart, I took French instead and it's so hard! Do you like it?

Trying not to shake, you slam your locker and pull your books close to your chest, turning and stepping into the hall, walking toward Sam.

"Uh, Hey, Sam."

Sam blinks and looks at you, almost doing a double take. "Oh, hey Alice. What's up?"

You squeeze your books and look at Sam's multiple ear piercings. "Uh. You took Spanish class, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, you're in French right?" Sam asks, visibly uncomfortable at the strangeness of this situation.

"Yeah, you're smart though. French is a lot harder I think."

Sam shrugs, "Well I think Spanish is pretty hard too."

"Do you like it?" you ask, internally wincing.

"Well . . . It's hard, like I said," Sam laughs.

"Yeah, I bet." Wait, didn't you just say it was easier then French? Crap.

Sam nods politely and you nod back. "So, what's up?"

>Are you and Franz still dating?
>I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out soon
>{You know, I actually am pretty good at Spanish. I have a relative who's fluent. Maybe you'd like some study help?}
>write in
>>{You know, I actually am pretty good at Spanish. I have a relative who's fluent. Maybe you'd like some study help?}
I'm guessing that the brackets means it's our friend's suggestion?
>I'm guessing that the brackets means it's our friend's suggestion?

Something like that
>>{You know, I actually am pretty good at Spanish. I have a relative who's fluent. Maybe you'd like some study help?}
>{You know, I actually am pretty good at Spanish. I have a relative who's fluent. Maybe you'd like some study help?}

"You know," you say in a voice that is not your own. Sure, it sounds like you, but it's *not* you. "I'm actually kind of good at Spanish which is why I think it's easy," you laugh freely, "I have a relative who's fluent. Maybe you'd like some study help?"

What? What did I say?

You want to curl up and die, why are you saying these weird things?

{Please don't panic, Alice. I'm just trying to help you out. Don't worry, I know you don't speak Spanish, but I can.}

Sam furrows her brow at you, "You speak Spanish?"

"Soy la chica que adora la muerte," the foreign language rolls of your tongue fluidly. Surprisingly, you find yourself understanding the meaning even as you say it.

Sam takes only a moment to apparently work out a rough translation in her own mind and she cracks a smile, "Wow, okay. Kinda weird but I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, I know you're smart and quiet." Sam's smile fades a bit, "It's just . . . Well." She looks around her, "I know the whole thing with Franz really bothered you and I don’t know why you’d go out of your way to help me."

"Franz," you say, suddenly in control of your voice again, "Ah, well. D-don't worry about it. I'm not that mad."

Sam looks skeptical, even more skeptical than when you told her you spoke Spanish. "You're not? I would be."

You find yourself staring down at the tips of your boots, unable to meet Sam's gaze, "Well, uhm. I mean-"

You feel your lips part in a smile and you look up again, "Don't sweat it, Sam. I think we'd make better friends than enemies, don't you? Freshman year was a long time ago." Your friend's influence again. While it's scary to just be a passenger in your own body, it's also interesting to see yourself actin without hesitation or uncertainty. The same kind of confidence Sam seems to have.

Sam nods, "Okay, sure. Do you want to come over to my place after school today?"
>Sure, sounds great!
>I've actually got plans tonight, What about this weekend? (Seeing Ellie tonight)
>{I was thinking my place, but wherever you're more comfortable is fine}
>Write in
>>I've actually got plans tonight, What about this weekend? (Seeing Ellie tonight)
>I've actually got plans tonight, What about this weekend? (Seeing Ellie tonight)

"Well," you shift on your feet, "I've actually got something I'm doing tonight. Maybe . . ."

"This weekend then?" Sam tries.

"Sure, that's better."

"Okay," Sam says, sounding unsure of herself, "I'll text you, I think I can get your number from Franz, right?"

"Yeah," you say.

"Great, and thanks!" Sam turns to head for her class.

You can only nod meekly.

{Alice, I hope I didn't alarm you. I was trying to help.}

"I just didn't know you could do that," you reply, heading for your own class.

{There's lots of things I can do but, we've got a long time to learn that about each other.}

"Right." There was clearly a lot about your knew friend you didn't know, but you had plenty of time to learn it all. Maybe your investigations into finding Ellie's Prom Date, Cliff would yield more insight.

With a heavy sigh, you continue on your way to class.


Out of time for the night, ran a bit over.

Thanks to those of you who stuck with me, it's not Halloween yet and we’ve got a ways to go.

I'm sure those of you reading this have, but if you have not followed my Twitter I post updates there.


Next game session I'm intending to be Thursday at the same time, 7 EST/11 UTC

Thanks for playing guys!
No problem, boss. I always wanted to play something in a high school setting that grabbed my attention. Thanks for bringing this quest idea back.
>I always wanted to play something in a high school setting that grabbed my attention
It's funny cause I never had any interest in a game like this. Premise caught my eye and the idea of trying something new appealed to me.

Yeah, my pleasure! It's very different for me.
Thanks for running tonight TK.

That (Parentheses) speech took me by surprise. Seems pretty useful to me!

Does our (Friend) have a name yet? We oughta ask her some time.
Quite an interesting quest you have here. Will be following!
>Thanks for running tonight TK.
Yeah, no problem! I'm having fun.

>That (Parentheses) speech took me by surprise. Seems pretty useful to me!
You don't have to be confident when someone else can do it for you. :D

>Does our (Friend) have a name yet?

Briefly discussed last thread:

>"What should I call you anyway?" you ask. There is a long silence.

>{I'm your friend, Alice. Call me friend.}

>You're not sure if that's charming or unsettling, but you like it. "Okay, at least until I come up with a better name for you."

Thanks! Glad you're enjoying!
I’m late to the party, but thanks for running this.
Absolutely! Sorry you couldn't play last session, but I'll be running again at 7 EST (11 UTC) on Thursday.
I'm loving the spooks TK, thanks for the run.
I hope I can play next session.
>I'm loving the spooks TK, thanks for the run.
Yeah man, glad to hear it!

Hoping to see you tomorrow!
Thanks for running
I'll be running again in seven hours
File: RoselakeSpookies.gif (195 KB, 450x630)
195 KB
195 KB GIF
The last class of your day was also the worst for you. Least favorite, most hated.

Gym Class.

Oh sure, it's a bit obvious, but you hate what you hate, okay?

Gym class required firstly that you change out of your cute clothes for some frumpy workout attire. A baggy shirt and gym shorts. Not only did you feel uncomfortable in such unflattering attire, but it also served to remind you how much you were unhappy with your own body. You hate looking at yourself in a mirror most days, you felt your body proportions were all wrong, legs too skinny, butt too big, boobs too small. You didn't like how stringy and oily your hair always was, or how sickly your skin looked, your makeup never felt like you did it right no matter how many tutorials you did, your stomach wasn't as flat as you wanted it to be. Nothing was right.

{What a silly thing to be upset about. I'm afraid I don't understand, Alice. You're beautiful to me.}

You smooth at the wrinkles on the front of your shirt, free arm tucked close over your chest, not answering. This was partly because you didn't think your new friend would get it, and partly because you were around other people now who *definitely* wouldn't understand you talking to yourself.

{What your body looks like should not affect how others perceive you. But I know you're sensitive to your appearance, Alice.}

You close the door of your locker, pausing for only a moment to stare wistfully at your neatly folded outfit. Turning around, you could see the other girls in the locker room likewise finishing up and heading out into the gym. Your eyes find Holly across the locker room, laughing with two of her friends. She was another reason you despised this class so much, and a reason why you felt so self-conscious. Looking at Holly made you feel another small pang of regret for the Dennys incident. Holly with her long legs and tanned skin, sure she'd look like a bleach-blonde catcher's mitt in a decade or so, but it was those same looks that had evidently won Chad over.
You didn't necessarily want to look like her, or even look different, but you *did* want to look better.

Holly looks back and catches you staring at her.

Turning away quickly, you pretend to fiddle with the combination lock on the locker.

{No, Alice. You have nothing to be jealous over. I don't have much appreciate for these things, but I can say that I've seen your body up close and I don’t think that Holly has anything you don't. In fact, I think she's lacking in quite a few areas, personality key among them.}

It's not her personality I'm jealous of, you think but instead mumble "Thanks."

But still, as if you needed another reason to be self-conscious about your appearance, now you had a mental roommate of indeterminate gender and sexuality who could ogle your body any time you could.

"Did you see something you like, dyke?" Holly asks from behind you, her friends tittering with laughter.

You turn back in puzzlement, "What?"

Holly crosses her arms and glares at you, "So what, did you dine and dash or something?"

You can see the cumbersome setup to an insult coming. "What?" you repeat.

"I mean, you didn't pay for those chicken legs did you?" Holly casually indicates your bare legs.

"Oh shit!" one of her friends says, laughing, "I shoulda recorded that one."

>Fuck you, Holly
>At least my boyfriend isn't fucking all the other cheerleaders
>Say nothing, it's time to leave
>{Here's an idea, Holly. Have you considered suicide?}
>Write in
Woo! Made it.

>Stare at her legs for a little too long, then say "Missed a spot." Then leave as she's looking.
>Stare at her legs for a little too long, then say "Missed a spot." Then leave as she's looking.

You give Holly a baleful, "drop dead" look before looking down at those legs that you were so envious of for a few moments. "I think you missed a spot," you say.

Holly gapes and looks down, giving you an opportunity to scurry out of the room. Her voice catches as you as the locker room door is closing behind you.

"At least I'm not a disgusting freak!"

The door closes and you exhale, looking anxiously around the gym at the other students as they find various excuses not to work out. You bite back emotion and sniff. You weren't a freak, Holly was the freak,

{I would have helped you, Alice. You should have let me help you. We're friends after all.}

You shake your head, "No. It's okay, I'm used to the things she says." You wipe at your eye and tell yourself that what Holly says to you doesn't hurt as much as it does.

{Alice, your life is going to change. Your life is already changing and you don't even know it.}

"Yeah," you agree quietly as you pace along the perimeter of the basketball court that made up the main portion of the gym. It was too cold. It was

You were making your way to a spot by the fold-out bleachers you frequently sat at. The gym teacher couldn't see you from where he stood when you sat there and it basically meant you were left alone.

You sat down, back against the bleacher wall, knees pull to your chest and watched the other kids talking, walking laps, or in Chad's case, running suicides, back and forth on the court with some of his friends. You let out a side as you watch.

{I thought you were done with Chad}

"I'm done with Franz," you correct. "Chad is . . . Complicated." you rest your chin on your knee.

{I thought that you were more interested in Sam now, Alice.}

You start, "I- well. I don't even know if that's how I feel about her." you let your voice trail off, your face flushing with color at the thought of thinking about Sam like that.

{I think you'd be much happier with Sam. She seems nice.}

"You said that about Franz," you say.

{You seem uncomfortable, Alice. Is it because Sam is a girl?}

"It just makes me feel . . . Weird. Like . . . I feel like I'm not in control of myself."

{We just want what's best for you, Alice. What do you see in Chad anyway?}

>Really, it's his body. Those abs. Hng.
>I like his attitude . . . Mostly, he sees what he wants and he goes for it.
>Maybe I am done with Chad.
>Write in
>Well, those abs. Hng.
>He's what I wish I could be, outgoing, proactive, able to make friends with anybody he wants. True, he's not exactly sharp, but he tries.
>There's also the fact that when I did try to date someone who fit my personality better, Franz toyed with my feelings anyways. So why not daydream about someone I wouldn't have a chance with? It's better then screwing up again...
>Write in


Sorry for the long delays, had some other business to take care of, more or less done now I hope.
You study Chad another moment before answering, watching him lift his shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead.

"Well . . . I mean those abs. Hng." You bite your lower lip. "But I guess he's what I wish I could be. Outgoing, proactive, able to make friends with anybody he wants." You shrug, "True, he's not exactly sharp, but he tries I guess."

{That's very poetic, Alice, but sad. Don't you think you'd be happier with someone who's more similar to you?}

"I tried that," you say, "With Franz. He fit my personality better but he toyed with my feelings anyways. So why not daydream about someone I wouldn't have a chance with? It's better than screwing up again . . . " You tried not to think about the hot face shamed you'd felt when you'd discovered Franz had betrayed your feelings and betrayed your trust so badly. How gullible you'd felt, how stupid, how . . . Used.

{I understand. If his body was all you wanted, I could give that to you.}

"Y-you could?" you ask, astounded.

{Easily. But making Chad love you as you are may be harder. Perhaps I'll find a way to make it work out for you, Alice. My gift to you.}

"You don't have to do things like that for me . . ."

{Oh, but I want to, Alice. That's why I came to you and no one else.}

Before you answer, you see Holly has apparently collected herself and emerged from the locker room. She crossed the gym, hips swaying, heads turning, until she came up on Chad who turned around to meet he in an embrace as she throws her arms around his neck and plants a long, kiss on his lips, one leg kicked into the air.

You feel your spirits sink just a bit lower watching Holly kissing him.

She breaks the kiss and takes a step back, throwing you a nasty look and a wink across the gym. The message is obvious.

"This is mine."

{But it could be yours, Alice. I can't promise you everything, but I can promise you some parts you might want.}

>No, it wouldn't be the same. Thank you though.
>You can promise me his body, huh? Tempting . . .
>I'd rather try for the whole thing. Can you help me with that?
>Write in
>No, it wouldn't be the same. Thank you though.
>You said things were going to change for me. If that's the case, I'd rather just start from square one again, meet someone new.

Mercifully, the rest of your day passes without incident, you've changed out of your horrid gym clothes and into something you consider acceptable before joining the throng of students pressing for the doors out of the school though you aren't leaving with them, not just yet. You have a mission.

The library is nearly deserted at this time, just a few students doing some last minute research for upcoming projects and a pair of overworked librarians restocking the shelves. You trade an anxious smile with one before lowering your head and heading toward the archives at the rear of the library.

{We're not going home, Alice?}

"We've got work to do, remember?" you whisper before finding the section you were looking for, a small collection of old yearbooks. "Ellie died in what, '59?"


"So why don't we see if we can find her or Cliff in an old yearbook? It might give us a place to start looking for this guy."

{Okay, if you want, Alice.}

You trace your finger along the faded spines, following the years and decades back until you hit 1959. You slide the volume out from the bunch with a whispery rasp. Dumping the book on the table, you pull up a seat and scan through the names and photos, brushing aside your hair.

"Elanor Andrews!" you say excitedly, spearing the smiling photo with a finger. "Aww, she's so pretty!"

Ellie, the girl you'd see in Roselake Cemetery with the dirty prom dress and blood pouring down her face was here, beaming up at you without a care in the world, least of all her impending death. You do some quick mental math, "Wow, she'd be almost 80 if she survived."

{So Cliff is probably already dead}

"Don't be such a downer," you chide. "I mean, *maybe* but if he were, Ellie would know, right?"

{Sometimes death isn't so simple.}

"Either way, let's find him!" You continue turning aging pages, marveling at each bank of smiling faces, a literal snapshot of the past. "Oh, here! Clifford Ellison. Oooo," you study his carefully styled hair and chiseled features. "I see why she went with him. They look made to be together." you write the name down in your phone. "How many 'Clifford Ellison's can there be?"

Your friend doesn't answer.

"Alright, let's go." you throw your backpack over a shoulder and head out.
File: Roselake Autumn.jpg (21 KB, 446x334)
21 KB
You exit into the cool autumn air and the dying sunlight of a fading day. Your backpack is heavy with books and assignments, a momentary distraction from the day's work. Before you do anything else, however, you have to walk back to your sister's place.

By now the school is nearly silent, the teachers and faculty the only ones left, and enjoying a small respite before the onslaught of students tomorrow. Now, Roselake is quiet.

At least you thought.

"Alice, hey."

You freeze, that voice one you'd live without hearing again.

Franz is coming up behind you at a quick trot. "Alice, what's up? It's been a while, right?"

"Yeah it has."

Franz stops an arm's length away from you, studying you. Your face, your clothes, "Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"Well I heard you got into it with Holly yesterday."

"What else is new?" You start turning away.

"Hey, wait!" Franz grabs your arm, lightly, "Look don't run off, okay? Sam told me you talked to her earlier. What's up?"

"I offered to help her study."

"Spanish," Franz says, "I know. Alice, you don't speak Spanish."

You hesitate a moment, "Like you'd know."

"Come on, does it really have to be like that?" Franz asks.

>Yes, and you know why. Goodbye
>I think you should understand exactly why I don't want to talk to you
>Fine, what do you want, Franz?
>Write in
>I think you should understand exactly why I don't want to talk to you
>Fine, what do you want, Franz?
>Yes, and you know why. Goodbye
>I think you should understand exactly why I don't want to talk to you
>Fine, what do you want, Franz?
>Yes, and you know why. Goodbye

You give Franz a withering stare. The good news about Franz was, because you two had been so intimate once upon a time, you didn't feel uncomfortable talking to him, well . . . Not like you did with other people.

"I think you should understand exactly why I don't want to talk to you," you retort.

Franz winces and holds up his hands "Okay ouch, jeez I get it."

You sigh, glare softening, "What do you want, Franz?"

He looks around at the nearby houses, collecting his thoughts before shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, "Look, I mean it's been a while since we talked right? And, I don't know. I'm worried about you I guess. You just sit by yourself all day in school, you never go anywhere-"

"I go places," you reply sharply. "Besides, I've been doing that for a while. Why the sudden concern?"

Again, Franz looks hurt, "Sam told me you talked to her. Alice, you *hate* Sam. I mean . . . I get it, okay? It's just strange."

You scoff, "Maybe I'm a strange person."

Franz shakes his head, "That's not what I meant."

You feel hot anger flooding your system, "Franz, you did a pretty shit job of taking care of me when you were my actual boyfriend. What makes you think you can do any better now?" Oh no. Please don't start crying. Not in front of Franz, not now.

"Right, I fucked up. I told you I fucked up when it happened and I apologized-"

"You *lied*!" now you were getting really mad.

"I lied! Okay!?' Franz admits, "Because I was embarrassed-"

"You should have been."

"Alice, no matter what happened, no matter what's come between us I do care about you, okay? I fucked up big time, and I know that now. It was a mistake."

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes closed to hide tears. "It wasn't a mistake you wanted to fix."

Franz lowers his voice, "It was a long time ago, Alice."

"For you." you wipe at your eyes, crying in school, twice in one day. It was too much. "You know what you did and you're going to have to live with it. Goodbye, Franz."
"Alice!" Franz protests hands lifted in defeat, but you're already walking away.

Putting your head down, you put in your earbuds and try to blot out the events of today.


You barely make it a block before you stop and look up, a cold sensation washing over you. You see a car, a battered sedan, stopped at a stop sign at this residential intersection, idling. There's no other traffic, not a soul around.

In the driver's seat is a man wearing mirror sunglasses and, what looks like a suit in poor condition. He's smoking a cigarette, pausing to blow a thin stream of blue smoke out of his open window, letting his arm drop and hang out of the vehicle. He doesn't go. He sits and he watches you.

You and he stare for a few moments before you get another chill and feel like you should keep walking. Turning your back, you cross the street in front of his car, not looking at him. You make it maybe ten yards down the sidewalk before you glance back at those mirrored eyes staring back at you, car motionless.

"Who is that?" you whisper, turning back around.

{I don't know.}

"That's really weird, right? That he's just sitting there?"

Your friend doesn't answer.

You reach the end of the block and risk another look back. The gold sedan is gone, apparently driven off.

You stop at the corner, just focusing on breathing in and out, your heart hammering. "Was that a ghost or something?"

{No, Alice. That was a man.}

"And you don't know what he was doing?"


You lit silence hang a moment. "Should I be worried?"

{I wouldn't worry. There's nothing we have to worry about. You're special now, Alice. Maybe he could just sense that.}

You star at the spot where the car had been idling before shrugging again. "Okay, well you'll excuse me if I want to get home ASAP."

Now of course, it fell to you to expand your investigation. You had a name, you simply had to track them down. Of course, you could also visit Ellie's grave for more questions or information.

>Try to track down Cliff
>Visit Ellie first
>Write in
>>Visit Ellie first
>Visit Ellie first
>Visit Ellie first

File: SpookyCemetary.gif (186 KB, 456x336)
186 KB
186 KB GIF
"We'd better visit Ellie first," you say.

{Will we be walking?}

You were tempted to say no. You didn't like the thought of some creep driving around Roselake watching high school girls walk home, and certainly didn't like walking around by yourself. But, you weren't going to ask Mark for a ride to the cemetery, and you didn't want to put that on your sister. Besides, if things got dicey you could always do your weird 'ghost trip' thing out of there.

"Yes," you say. "Let's dump our books at home and get walking before it gets too dark."


Sadly, it was already pretty damn dark by the time you get to the cemetery. You'd done everything in a hurry and still it took you almost an hour to get here.

You ignore the "Closed after sundown" sign on the fence around the cemetery and walk in. The grass whispers against your boots as you walk through row after row of head stones, savoring the still, cool air. This really was a great place to read and get away, too bad you had business to attend to.

You come upon Ellie's headstone after just a few minutes and exhale. Granted, you'd already talked to the dead once before, but it was still kind of a rush. You squat down on your heels, studying her headstone and focusing. "Okay, let's see Ellie."

Your friend doesn't answer, but does as you ask, obediently calling forth Ellie's lingering spirit.

Once the shimmering fog finishes coalescing into a teenage girl, you see that she's as you last saw her, bloodied and bruised, her dress soiled and torn, but her face lights up with a smile.

"Alice, you came back."

You smile back, "Yeah I did. I would have come sooner, but I had school. How have you been?"

Ellie's smile fades, "Lonely. Ever since talking to you . . . I'm starting to remember. To remember how long I've been here. Waiting."

You wonder if there are others trapped waiting but don't ask. "I'm sorry," all you can think to say.

"It's not your fault. Did you find Cliff?"

"Ellison?" you ask, verifying.

Ellie nods.

"Not yet, but I did look him up in the yearbook. What a hunt!"

Ellie looks bashful, "I- . . . Thank you. He was so dreamy. I really do miss him. But . . . I don't know if I should bother him."

"I'm sure he'd want to know about you just like you want to know about him," you say. "Leave that to me."

>Do you have any ideas where I might be able to find Cliff?
>What do you want me to do if I find Cliff?
>Do you want to know who killed you or why you died?
>Write in

>Do you have any ideas where I might be able to find Cliff?
>What do you want me to do if I find Cliff?
>Do you have any ideas where I might be able to find Cliff?
>What do you want me to do if I find Cliff?
>Mind if I ask you a little about what things were like when you were in high school?
>Do you have any ideas where I might be able to find Cliff?
>What do you want me to do if I find Cliff?
>Mind if I ask you a little about what things were like when you were in high school?

"Do you have any ideas where I might find Cliff?"

"Well he lives on Abernathy Lane," Ellie says, matter-of-factly before coming short, "Oh. Wait . . . What year is it again?"

"It's 2017. October 5th," you say.

Ellie blinks, her face sagging, "Oh. Cliff would be . . . "

"Older than you remember," you fill in. "He's probably moved out, but I can double check."

Ellie nods, still visibly coming to grips with her situation.

"Well, when I find him, what do you want me to do? Should I bring him here?"

Ellie gasps and stands up, "No! I don't want him to see me like this! If he even can see me. . . No, I want you to . . . Well . . . Well tell him that I'm okay, that I'm happy and that I miss him. Can you just tell him that? That I don't blame him."

You nod, "I can do that. I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

Ellie laughs, trying to shake off her slump, "Heavens, he's probably an old man now. Imagine that."
You sift uneasily, "Um. Ellie."


"Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course!"

"What were things like when you were in high school?"

Ellie blinks, "What do you mean exactly?"

"I mean what was it like."

Ellie considers your question, "Well, I'm not sure how to answer that. I don't really don't know what things are like now. I can tell you that we certainly dressed differently. Your dress is pretty I think, but those boots . . . It's very strange."

"Oh," you shake your head, "No, um. This isn't exactly normal here either."

"It's not?"

"No. I'm . . . Well people say I'm spooky."

"Spooky? Well you are talking with a ghost, hun."

You chuckle.

Ellie blinks a few more times, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that- well it's just different than what I wore. Dresses, skirts, sweaters, I spent a lot of time trying to get my damn hair to do what I wanted."

You smile, "I'm envious, I saw your yearbook photo. You're gorgeous."

A flicker of sadness crosses Ellie's face, "Thank you, Alice. The more I think about it, the more I miss my friends. My family, there's so much I never got to do. It's so unfair, you know?" she sniffs. "Alice, promise me you'll live your life to the fullest, okay?"

You feel a roiling sickness in your mind. Was your friend, for lack of a better term, gagging at this display?

"Promise," you say. "Once I get my life together I mean."

"What do you mean?" Ellie asks.

"Things . . .are kind of shit for me. My boyfriend fingered some girl sophomore year while we were dating and I never really bounced back from that."

Ellie's jaw drops.

"Then the guy I like at school thinks I'm something he found under a rock. His girlfriend is a little shrew and then this ghost thing showed up. . . " you take note of Ellie's expression. "What's wrong?"

"Um, I guess things have changed a lot since I was in school."

"Oh, yeah that might be kind of culture-shocky. Needless to say, my only two friends lack bodies. There is a girl I'm trying to meet after school though."

"I think she'll adore you," Ellie says, "You've been so kind to me when you have no reason to."

You decide to leave out the part where you may have other plans for you and Sam. Ellie's had enough culture shock you think.

>Ask your friend what his problem is
>Ask Ellie more stuff (Write in)
>Do you think you can leave this spot? Like, go other places?
>I think I'd better get back home before it gets too late. I have homework and I still have to find Cliff.
>write in


By the way, don't hesitate to write in basically anything at any point, up to and including changing topics, asking other questions, etc. I try to be accommodating.
>Do you think you can leave this spot? Like, go other places?
>If you'd like, I could try to come and visit on Friday, maybe bring a movie for us to watch. Nothing too recent, though, modern movies might be a little too much to take in. Particularly the scary ones.
>Mind if I try to touch you? I know I can talk to you, but I don't know if we can touch.
If touch fails to connect...
>(hugs tombstone) I'll see you soon. I promise.
File: Kiss-a-Rock.jpg (91 KB, 408x408)
91 KB
Sorry, that should be...
>(hugs tombstone in an attempt to comfort Ellie)
>All this

Sorry, was it too much?
Not at all! I just didn't want to copy paste it all lol
"Do you think you can leave this spot?" you ask. "I mean, can you like, go other places?"

"I think so. I'm pretty sure I've done it before."

{Alice, you should leave her here.}

You tilt your head in confusion, "Why?"

Ellie blinks, "Why what?"

{It makes me uncomfortable, Alice. The spirits of the dead are not like they were when they were alive. They're . . . Less. Ellie doesn't remember being here this whole time very clearly because she's in the thrall of a haunt.}

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm actually talking to another friend of mine," you explain, "Just give me a sec. What do you mean a haunt?"

{The legends of the Prom Queen exist for a reason, Alice. Ellie has left this grave before because she's haunted the road where she died, the road where she waited for Cliff to pick her up. She is not the same as when she was alive.}

"Well I don't mind that," you say, "Unless it's somehow dangerous."

There's a long silence.

{Nothing is dangerous with me around, Alice. But I find bringing Ellie around . . . Distasteful. Ghosts can be fleeting and strange.}

"So you're not a ghost? What are you then?"

{I already told you, Alice, I'm-}

"My friend. Right, Right." you ignore the rest of what your friend said. You turn back to Ellie who is looking at you quizzically. "The only reason I can see you," you explain, "Is because of this spirit I have with me. It's hard to explain."

Ellie nods, still looking confused.

"Anyway, I was asking because maybe you'd like to come over to my house. Maybe tomorrow. We could watch a movie." you think of your own collection of movies and think that maybe Return of the Living Dead might not be the best thing for Ellie. "Nothing too recent, though, modern movies might be a little too much to take in. Particularly the scary ones."

"What about a Western?" Ellie asks.

"A Western?"

"You know . . . Sheriffs and outlaws, cowboys and Indians? They have Westerns still don't they?"

"No, I know what a Western is. It just surprised me."

Ellie looks sheepish, "My dad loves them . . . Loved them I guess. High Noon is our favorite."

"High Noon," you repeat, making a mental note to track down a torrent when you get home. "Okay, I can do that. It'll be like a fun date!" you regret the words as soon as you say them, you wonder if Ellie would be so willing to come over if she knew about that thing with Sam. There was another question . . . "Ellie um . . . Can I try to touch you?"
Ellie's smile wavers, "Touch?"

"I mean, I know I can talk to you, but I don’t know if we can touch."

She hold out her hand, looking uncertain.

You reach out and pass your hand clean through hers, your finger tips are cold. "Oh!" you pull your hand back in surprise.

"Sorry!" Ellie says, "Are you alright?"

Your hand actually feels a little numb, but you feel feeling returning to it. "I'm fine," you assure her, rubbing your fingers. "Well, now we know."

{Ghosts aren't always so immaterial. Give Ellie enough of an incentive and I think you'll find she's very capable of interacting physically.}

You're a bit surprised with your friends sudden input, and you're not sure if you should take that as a warning or a tip.

"So, we can't touch but . . . " you lean forward, Ellie moving to the side pensively, and wrap your arms around her tombstone, cheek pressed to the cold stone. "I'll see you soon. I promise."

Ellie, startled at first, breaks out into a broad grin, her eyes flickering with sadness. "Thank you, Alice. No one-"

"Yo, what the fuck."

You release the headstone and stand up in surprise, Ellie is gone, and a trio of teens stand a few paces from you, looking as surprised to see you as you are to see them. They wear hoodies and carry backpacks. The closest has a bandanna tied around his face, and a can of spray paint in his hand. He reaches up with a free hand to pull off his impromptu mask, revealing handsome features and an amused smile. "Hey there. Uhh, come here often?


And I'm out of time for the night.

Thanks for playing! I'm taking a short week-long break from questing next week, but I may try to run a session of Spooky Girl on Thursday since I hate to take a break so soon into a new quest. We'll see, follow the Twitter to stay up do date.

I'm open for any questions or commentary you may have for the next little while anyway.

Killer write-ins by the way, keep em coming!
File: GothProm.jpg (57 KB, 498x750)
57 KB
>Thanks for playing!
No problem, boss. I'm having a great time with all this teen angst and ghost powers! I don't really see anything on /qst/ that scratched this particular itch, so it's a real treat for me.

>I'm open for any questions or commentary you may have for the next little while anyway.
I've only got one or two, hope you don't mind.

1) What exactly made you take over this quest? You mentioned before that this stuff wasn't exactly in your wheelhouse once or twice.

2) Is Prom going to be part of the story? Because I'm really hoping it would be, complete with black prom dress and being delivered to the dance in a hearse.

>Killer write-ins by the way, keep em coming!
Thanks, boss. I do what I can!

G'night, boss.
Damn, missed it again?
Next time, then.

Anyway, i found interesting how Alice's ghostfriend felt mentally ill at Elie's sappy display of affection. Even after giving Alice the same "Oh, you are beautiful for who you are, don't let them get you down, blah blah" drivel.

Maybe something to point him out to him next time and have a laugh at his expense.
Even if i think it is a MASSIVE red flag of manipulative behaviour. Intended or otherwise.

Thanks for running


Now this is something I can get behind. . . wait . . . Are you the dress anon from Dark Empire?

>hope you don't mind.

Anon please. I could talk shop all damn day. Really it's a huge compliment that people care enough to have questions.

Great fucking question. I think I'm like you, this was an itch I wanted scratched and didn't know it till old QM cut and ran. I saw a challenge and I took it.

Don't get me wrong, this shit is right up my alley, just not something I ever considered running a quest about. Without delving into my personal life, this stuff is familiar to me lol.

Prom is a long ways off, my man. It's not even Halloween yet. But that does sound like a brilliant prom idea.

Alice Would only be missing a date . . .

Got anymore for me?


>Damn, missed it again?
Fraid so, my dude.

>Next time, then.
Probably next Thursday, we'll see. Updates on the Twitter. I wasn't planning on running this quest so it fell on an awkward portion of my calendar.

>i found interesting how Alice's ghostfriend felt mentally ill at Elie's sappy display of affection. Even after giving Alice the same "Oh, you are beautiful for who you are, don't let them get you down, blah blah" drivel.

Her friend is certainly strange! Makes you wonder what its deal is.

>Maybe something to point him out to him next time and have a laugh at his expense.

Noted! Things like this are helpful for me. Conversation points players want to revisit but that I brushed over. Let's my dialog be more free flow and still hit points of interest.

>Red Flags

I don't like the implication that Alice's friend is anything other than 100% transparent. no pun intended.

>Thanks for running

Happy to do it! Thanks for reading!
>100% transparent
Just like he was when Alice asked what he was? The implication of her question being clear enough that his answer is blatant lying by omission? Nah, 100% transparent. All the way.

"You didn't ask" goes a long way to keep uncomfortable truths away
>Got anymore for me?
Oh, all right, then. One more question, then it's time for my warm milk and bed.

I was wondering, our ghost flight and incorporeality are given to us by Friendo the Friendly Fright, right? Do you think we could gain other powers or spiritual bonuses if we commit to helping the dead move on? Like, for example, if we help Ellie go to her afterlife, could we get a sort of passive bonus to charisma, or attract people to us?
We get the ability to appear in somebody else's mirror with a knife if they say our name three times fast
Thanks for running again. I’m absolutely loving this quest.
I'm sensing some mistrust from you, Anon.

>Do you think we could gain other powers or spiritual bonuses if we commit to helping the dead move on?

Well, seeing as your friend is the provider and source of these powers, you'd have to take that up with them. From what your friend has said, these powers come with the consumption of souls/spirits. So just helping them move on may not be enough.

>Bloody Alice
>Bloody Alice
> . . . Bloody Alice

I really could add that as a power, though I doubt it would actually come in handy for you at all.

Glad to hear it! It's good to know what I'm doing is working cause I am going way off my normal quest style.
>I'm sensing some mistrust from you, Anon.
Me? Mistrust? NEVER

>So just helping them move on may not be enough.
Oh, we might find some ghosts on the way that we won't want to help... I hope.

>though I doubt it would actually come in handy for you at all.

Random text message from an unknown source: "Wanna do this completely random thing for me? :3"
Also we'd be breaking time and space
Time, because we'd essentially teleport, moving faster than light
Space, because the conjured out of thin air knife
That alone trumps usefulness

See you next session

Delete Post: [File Only] Style:
[Disable Mobile View / Use Desktop Site]

[Enable Mobile View / Use Mobile Site]

All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.