withering souls;;

Tate’s hands clenched around Ana as the boom resonated throughout the house. His eyes narrowed. Was that something by the window? He couldn’t let his little sister see any kind of worry cross his face. Not like he couldn’t handle any of these ghosts that liked to frequent the house. They could suck his big toe for all he cared, but when they messed with his siblings? No, that wasn’t something he would allow at all. 

Running his hand down her hair, Tate put on his best smile. “Ghosts? Get me? Come on, Banana, there’s no ghost that can get me,” he stated, doing his best tough guy voice. “They should be afraid of me rather than the other way around.” 

Ana recalled the time she went to the attic alone to see Beau, the foul stench of death that lingered up there, like an animal was stuck in the wall freshly decomposing. When she ran downstairs to tell her mother, by the time they got back to the attic the scent was gone. The blonde received a firm smack the back of her head as punishment for riling up her chained sibling. 

It had to have been an evil spirit up there. And she knew whatever it was could bring harm to Tate. 

It was rare that Nani got spooked in the house, but the sound of the voice made her jump. Pushing the awkwardness away with one of her trademark smiles, she turned towards the voice. “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone. I was just looking for someone…he and his friend tend to roam around the house, and I can never tell where they’ll be,” Nani said, shrugging her shoulders towards the end. “Cell reception tends to be horrible in here. That’s what I get for believing Sprint had gotten better.”  

Ria slowly nodded, pretending she knew what her opposite was talking about. She hadn’t cared to keep up with modern technology. She knew what cell phones were, but never bothered to use one. She didn’t like the vibes they gave off. Opposite of the natural way. 

In her time in the Murder House, Noelle barely spoke to anyone. Those who she did speak to, she always seemed to come off too harsh. Her ‘fuck it all’ attitude during death wasn’t exactly charming. She found a reason to hate everyone.

She began walking to the edge of the yard, as far away from the house as she could get. The boundaries of the house were just another thing that pissed her off. Any farther past the fence and she would find herself right back inside. Who the fuck made those rules anyway? Why did the dead have to abide by property line?

She had come to look for Chase. She had hoped the male would be roaming the hallways, but unfortunately he was no where to be seen. Or maybe, she had been lying to herself. A small part of her knew that Chase didn’t have the highest regard for the house. Especially since one of his friends seemed to be obsessed with figuring out the ghost situation. 

Sighing, she continued to roam around the hallways, really just at a loss for what to do. She wouldn’t have to be at the Pussycat Club for a few more hours, and she didn’t want to be in her apartment at the moment. “Hello,” Nani called, trying to find someone. “Anyone home?” 

Stepping into the room, Tate looked around quickly. If there were any ghosts in the room they wouldn’t be showing themselves now. It wasn’t a surprise that the ghosts were active on a night like tonight. What better way to freak the living out than to haunt them during a storm? 

Hopping on the bed, Tate scooted so that he was sitting next to Annabelle. “It looks like you’re in the clear for right now,” he said, giving her a small smile. “Nobody can get you while I’m here.” 

Eyes breaking open at the sound of thunder, Tate barely had enough time to process what was happening before the light from another lightning strike cracked through his room. Sitting up, the mophead rubbed his sleep crusted eyes, legs already pushing him off the bed. He knew how the others tended to react whenever the storms got too bad, and if he knew his mother, she was probably sleeping off another liquor filled dinner to do anything. The worst one was Annabelle. 

Stumbling down the hallway to his younger sister’s door, Tate fumbled with the knob. Pushing the door in slowly, he moved into the room. “Ana, you okay?” he asked, into the room–seeing the lump underneath the blankets. 

The tension in the house was a spring ready to snap. Sawyer could feel it and he had spent most of his time in the attic. The tension that Halloween always brought around. It annoyed him to no end. 

What was the point of getting worked up about one day. Sure, it was the only time the ghosts could get out and stretch their spirit limbs, but in the end they would just wind back up in the house and start their year of waiting all over again. 

Of course, he always used that time to kill someone. He needed his reputation to stay alive. 

Focusing on the area with the most tension at that moment, Sawyer ghosted himself to stand beside Sam. The energy around her almost scared him, but he wanted to see her. 

Sawyer’s presence caused Sam’s gaze to break from the world outside. Her normally hazel eyes were stone gray, complexion more pale than usual. Though something about him being around created a warmer aura, the frost on the window dissipating, the glass pane before them fogging over slightly instead. He may have been one of the only souls in the house that made the poltergeist feel something other than dead anymore.

Easier to do outside the house, where she wouldn’t make any permanent enemies.

The air around her was freezing - frost lined the window she stared out of, a dead gaze set straight out into the street, but focused on nothing in particular. Her fists clenched and released in rhythm, her very being surging with energy that was fighting to get out.