SS HORIZON

The veil is thin between the realms of the living and the dead. The lost souls are returning to walk among the living. From across the centuries, tales of it have been written in many works.

Compiled from the Library of Asteria to the deck of SS HORIZON, here are eight tales of those who stares into the shadows and finds the shadows staring back at them.

Don’t look over your shoulders, the lights doesn’t keep them away, they appear when you least expect it.

“Bad things at times do happen to good people.”

“Hell is in the human heart.”

Leave your wishes of revenge at the shrine overlooking the field. Wooyoung will ferry your grudge.

Available on the deck of SS HORIZON

“I t’s all fun and games, until the light fades out.”

Ever wondered how they keep all lights in the city ever so bright? When you try to seek what you've once lost, your best hope is to hide well.

Available at the Library of Asteria

"There's always a price for perfection."

Centre stage and the spotlight bows. Pity, the shadows have left its taint on thy pure white soul.

(Coming soon from the Library of Asteria)

“You must survive.”

Is it real or is it an illusion? In the time when the dead becomes the living, do not get eaten.

Available on the deck of SS Horizon

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the real one of them all?"

Not everything is as it seems, and not everything that seems is. You best start paying real good attention!

(Coming soon from the Library of Asteria)

“Your heart belongs to me.”

The dead would like their heart returned. The heart is in Mingi’s body.

(Coming soon from the deck of SS HORIZON)

“Do not invite them in.”

Suspended between reality and illusion, be careful of who you meet. The hidden hour has descended.

(Coming soon from the deck of SS HORIZON)

"I see the leaves dancing with the wind, but...why can't I feel the cold?"

When night falls, the moon beckons. Life and Death will partner, in this dance on hallowed grounds.

(Coming soon from the Library of Asteria)

from/ ‘All Hallows’ Eve’

w/ k.hj & reader

g/ inspired by “persona 3”: angst, friendship, supernatural

w.c/ 1k

a.n/ hello~ it’s me~ it’s been a while since i stepped foot in tumblr! sorry for disappearing without notice but i’ve not been in the writing mood for some time, life too has been busy. in honour of spoop month, here’s another piece to the series. i don’t know how many of you are still around but enjoy! happy halloween!

t.w/ ghost, blood, death

[First Quarter]

“Don’t.”

You stop in your tracks. Why? He warns you out of good nature but never is able to explain more. He doesn’t know either, he tells you it’s a bad time to go and you might see something you wish to forget. There’s no turning back when it happens. Unfortunately, the inevitable already happened. You’ve seen him, an anomaly in your usually normal life. Kim Hongjoong. A dead man. A ghost in your apartment.

“Have you gone out there? In the hidden hour?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. He doesn’t remember anything related to his death. As a ghost, he feels everything that living humans doesn’t feel. The danger, the restlessness, the wailing, the torment. He calls it the hidden hour, a secret hour where those without potentials turn into coffins and those with are preys. The hidden hour is where the dead become the living. Yet Hongjoong is still a ghost and you, a human, apparently with potential, are now sitting on your bed. The dark blue sky is tinted green with the half golden moon, so big and close to Earth almost as if the distance is reduced by half.

The coffins, water turning into blood, the gigantic moon are nothing compared to the lofty skyscraper of a tower appearing out of nowhere. A pseudo gothic edifice formed with the surrounding buildings pierce through the moon. It’s horrifyingly beautiful and Hongjoong agrees with your musing.

“I don’t know. Maybe I have. I can never seem to remember anything after a certain time. I can feel it nearing again, crawling under my skin.”

You look over at him, Hongjoong appears with his black and white striped polo shirt. Your first wild guess was a dead runaway prisoner but he miffly shut down the idea. No prisoner is as fashionable as he is. His hair matches his polo, black and white, cleanly split in half. Your second guess was Cruella cosplay which he took more graciously. A trailblazer of their own.

“You should sleep. There’s not much we can do at this time. If they sense you, you might as well be food for the dead.”

You tuck yourself in and Hongjoong too because he keeps you company while he contemplates life. The blanket goes through him but it's the thought that counts.

“Goodnight, Joong.”

w/ k.ys + reader | g/ sfw, fluff, comfort | w.c/ 462 | t.w/ mention of gun

The diner is practically empty in the middle of the night. Only a few trucks parked on the neon-lit graveled lot, the sign noticeably flickering and buzzing if one stands under it or in silence. The drivers are scattered here and there, sometimes clumping together to discuss their work, route, games or family. A long tedious job, lonely even.

You pour coffee into their empty white mugs. There are many things you hear, many you feel too. Maybe your job is just as lonesome as theirs, working at a diner in the middle of nowhere. Beside the road, there are only the electrical towers and the flat open red desert. There are hardy aloes, big cacti and tumbleweeds. The view of the moon is something else at night while the day is sweltering under the relentless sun.

It’s rather peaceful in a sense. The lone TV providing white noise as you work and the petrol station a few miles down does help with the business. Sometimes there are unsavoury patrons but nothing like silence and a shotgun to the face that couldn’t fix. You have to thank the owner for that.

There’s a distant sound of motorcycle rumbling mixed with the coffee brewing machine in front of you. The bright headlight flashes through from the windows, momentarily illuminating the diner. You smile as you watch the biker dismount from his beloved darling. You could hear the crunching of gravel inside your head and in reality the bell chimes prettily along with the bass of combat boots on the black and white tiles.

“Yeosang, it’s always nice to see you.”

With a helmet through his arm and a fitted leather jacket around his shoulders, Yeosang greets you with much friendliness. His dark tresses that seemed to be slicked back are now slightly messy.

Yeosang is a mystery. He appears out of nowhere one day with his bike, always spotless as if he hasn’t ridden through the vast dusty desert. He has a sweet tooth which you think is rather endearing, a contrast to his tough appearance. Though Yeosang has an incredibly gorgeous face, sculpted by Aphrodite herself. You told him once and he blushed while giggling and thanking you.

The French toast you serve him comes with a vanilla milkshake. You are always impressed he could eat such a sweet breakfast for dinner then again, time is obsolete in this place. People come and leave when the time is right. You know one day, he wouldn’t be coming on this road anymore. For now, Yeosang will be here and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, marked with an angel’s kiss on one of the corners, oh so fond and a tad bashful in his confidence.