#phasmo au

I’ve decided to leave my old job in payroll behind and start learning something completely new: Ghost hunting! Or perhaps it’s more like ghost identifying, but that sounds less cool, so I’ll continue to call it ghost hunting for now. And I’m learning so much about it. All the paranormal activities that have been haunting the neighbourhoods for as long as I can remember. It’s certainly not been easy, but it’s been too exciting to properly put into words.

The van is a little cramped, but it has all that we need to complete our missions and Llama and I have already been discussing how to make the place nicer. Speaking of, that leads me to my favorite bit of this new job, my teammates. 

Moth is certainly on top of his shit. He has a lot of knowledge, it seems, of all the different kinds of ghosts. When I’m still frantically looking through my notebook on ghost behaviour, Moth is already calling out which ghost it is and why. Even when we’re not on the jobsite yet, Moth is going over mission reports and checking our gear. I’ve barely figured out how to use all our gear and that man is taking stuff apart and fixing things with some scrap and an old screwdriver.

Llama seems quite knowledgeable as well, but also makes the time to chat with me about other stuff regularly. We’ve already got some good plans of improving the van and I can’t wait to put them into motion. Now just to make sure we don’t go overboard and leave enough room for all the stuff we need for our missions. Both Moth and Llama are absolute saints, constantly taking the time to explain things to me. 

Though it’s still nice to know I’m not the only newbie around here. I’m happy to have Lennart around to goof off with from time to time. He seems to be picking stuff up rather quickly though, quicker than me at least, and is also very focussed when need be. Never in my life could I have done all this without this random group of strangers allowing me into their group and helping me learn the ropes.

Now onto even more exciting news. The van decorations. Currently, All available space is already being utilized to the max and there isn’t much room left for all the frivolous little things that I want and I’m sure my teammates would be very unhappy with me if I tried to move our back-ups under the table in favor of a mini fridge. Which to be honest, fair enough.

I spend a fair amount of time in that bus though, checking cams and keeping an eye on sanity/activity. So I’ve certainly got ideas to spruce up the place. 

Ideally, and I know this will be quite far in the future, I want to get a bigger van. With separate sections for the cute shit and the ghost shit. Perhaps even with seperate power sources. That way, if the cute section short circuits, all our gear and monitoring stuff will still work. I want to create an area with a little couch, though still big enough for at least two people to lay on. (Yes I appreciate the hammocks, but I also appreciate a snuggle, thank you.) A kitchen would probably not be very feasible, but a little space with a mini fridge, a microwave, or maybe even a slow cooker! I know we usually use insane-away on missions cus it’s quick and easy, but I think if they gave my special goulash a try, they’d find it (almost) as effective, and delicious to boot.

    The breaker is… not off, surprisingly. Which is great, because Clover is gonna have to clean the entryway at the bottom of the stairs, which is closer to the ghost’s room than she has been before. She can only deal with so much in one day. And now she is warm and toasty and able to actually turn a light on in the house so that she can clean it up. 

    The entrance to the house is charming, with an old grandfather clock and a bookshelf with board games piled on it. She starts on the dusty floor with the creaky wood, and she sweeps the dust and dirt away. The pile she has made from sweeping looks like she had dumped a vacuum out, and she is surprised that it hasn’t completely blown everywhere. She has a feeling that if the ghost was in the room with her, they would scatter it again. As it is, she is able to move it into a dustpan, and then one of the trashbags she had brought with her. She has already filled three of them, whether it be with trash, old paper, or the filled jars of pickles left on the counter. It’s possible they would have been good, but Clover wasn’t gonna take that chance. What if the ghost poisoned them, or something?

    It’s unlikely, but not impossible. Clover didn’t even think ghosts existed before this week. Maybe they have vendettas against pickles.

    She mops the floor next, and it looks almost as good as new if it weren’t for the dusty bookshelf, old grandfather clock, entranceway chair, or the rusting heater. She is only halfway sure that works, considering the house is still pretty cold even with the power on. Luckily, Clover had learned very quickly that the power staying on was not a sure thing, and had brought a coat accordingly.

    She wipes down the clock next, and jumps when it makes a loud sound and starts ticking again, and for some reason it makes Clover much more scared than she was before. She tries to ignore it and focus on the satisfaction that comes with having another part of the house being done. If it weren’t for the ghost, she can imagine the clock sounding warm, filling the silence, but it instead feels like a timer. She hopes that the children who had lived here before had never felt the fear that it seems to be bringing her.

    Clover moves to the bookshelf. Ignoring the clock would make it fade into background noise as her brain adapted to the noise.

    The bookshelf has more pictures on it, as well as the board games she had seen earlier. Her eyes catch on a music box, one that she had seen before but never really had the time to look at between cleaning the other rooms and dealing with the ghost. It most likely belonged to one of the kids, and it has a tiny red cow in it, one that has mushrooms growing out of their back. It’s cute, and Clover reaches towards it to clean it off. She wipes the dust off of it, and looks at the handle on the side. 

    She turns it, and a beautiful, haunting melody pours out. The cow dances inside, and she can hear the ghost upstairs humming along, but it doesn’t scare her as the cow dances along to the ghost’s tune, the grandfather clock ticking out the rhythm. The melody is sad, like a cry for help, or a cry of warning, but a soft cry. Clover feels like she is entranced by the music and she doesn’t move as she watches the cow spin round, and round, and round.

    And then the lid slams shut, and the ghost upstairs cries, and Clover jolts out of the trance the music had left her in. Her arms prickle at the sound, and she hears the ghost upstairs, bolting across the room they have been in, running along the floorboards. She quickly scrambles to the door, gripping the closed music box hard enough in her hand that the corners are painful, and she reaches for the handle of the door.

    It’s locked. It is locked and she can hear the thumps of items being thrown upstairs, the ghost still running, and she keeps trying to open the locked door. The ghost sounds like they have left the room, and are getting to the top of the stairs, and Clover watches them blink in and out of existence, moving slower than they were before. They haven’t noticed her yet, but she watches as their head turns, and she shivers when they meet her gaze and start to come down the stairs. They come slowly, steadily, as if they are toying with her, like they know she can’t escape, and all Clover can do is desperately try to get out. 

    Her heart is pounding, and it feels like it is going to beat out of her chest, and the ghost is almost to her now. She squeezes her eyes shut, and can distantly feel tears running down her face as she hears the cries of the ghost, the footprints coming closer and closer. An unnatural chill comes towards her, and she can sense a chill directly next to her, and she feels freezing fingertips dance across her skin.

    She can no longer feel the music box in her hand, and she opens her eyes, the uncertainty of what has happened overpowering the urge to keep the shut. The ghost is there, holding the music box, looking at it with such sad eyes, and then the ghost looks at Clover, . They stare for a few seconds, and then blink, and then disappear.

he slams the button to open the back of the truck, and tommy lets out a quiet whoop.

(not too loud though, techno idly notes. there’s no point in disturbing the dead any earlier than they have to.)

the entrance goes… smooth. the key works, as it always does. no matter techno’s personal distaste for quackity’s little group of vandals, they get the job done. the first floor is quiet; the house chilly, tommy reports back amidst a steady stream of disgruntlement, but no disturbances that any of them can pick up on.

--

tommy groans over the radio.

“in the attic? really? all of those stairs, all of that dust…”

“i thought you were a big man,” wilbur teases back. “does a little exercise disturb your very big lungs?”

“fuck you,” is tommy’s only response, before phil’s voice cuts over his.

--

techno eyes him with nothing short of distaste, while wilbur cackles off to the side, strapping his own camera to himself.

“is the child getting annoyed that we’re making sure he doesn’t lose us money and earn us a lawsuit? awww.”

tommy whirls to snarl at wilbur, and techno rolls his eyes. besides him, phil shakes his head slowly.