#phasmophilia

Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.

You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. You’d stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.

Sleep doesn’t completely evade you but you’re not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.

Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. They’ve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. They’re not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.

You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.

Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like — like they’re what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.

The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesn’t even sound like you, desperate and needy. They’re back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if they’re trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. It’s a nice dream, you don’t need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that it’s a dream. Because then you’ll wake up, alone again.

Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you don’t want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If it’s your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesn’t push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.

“Please,” you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.

The stranger’s cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands — under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until there’s an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.

It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat but— wait, it’s your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.

The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and — fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner —

There’s no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But there’s a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someone’s shoulder against your Achilles’ tendon. There’s a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someone’s labored breathing.

The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns — your whole body burns. You can’t look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever — whatever — it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you can’t see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.

You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. It’s so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.

Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.

A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.

Hi :)

Oh. So that's why this place was so cheap.

Standing in the desolate changing cubical, the quietness was deafening as you smoothed over the fabric of the outfit you were trying out. A last minute invite meant a last minute urgent to any nearby clothing store you can find, hoping to score something suitable for the occasion. Turning this way and that to see how it looked and feels, sighing after deciding it didn't seem right as messaging that you weren't going. Looking back into the cubicle mirror you notice a crinkle on the fabric, like someone was holding it in their grasp, but you couldn't feel not see anyone there, and the changing rooms were all empty when you entered, not even an employee in sight.

Going to turn around, you pushed forward against the mirror, face turned sideways and eyes franticly trying to find someone or something in the small space, trying to find whoever or whatever is doing this. But still nothing, you shake and shiver as a set of invisible hands start to undo the fabric from your body, letting it bunch up and fall to the floor, leaving you bear and exposed. Still, the hands wonder, over your skin and down your sides and towards your hole, squeezing your hips and ass. Shaking your head as you plead the thing to leave you alone slip from your lips, unsure if it can actually hear you, you freeze up as you feel as second pair of hands akin to the first around your neck as the ones around your hips pulls you downwards, hard, causing you to fall to the ground with a sicking pop of your joints.

The hands around your neck disappear and the sensation of them squeezing your cheeks together and prying your mouth open is enough to bring tears to your eyes as they widen in fear, one set of fingers digging into your mouth and presses down on your tongue while another presses into your hole with a dry and rough pace and pressing against that sweet spot inside you. The fingers in your mouth reach back far, causing you to gag only to pull out and be replaced but a much thicker and girthier object that reaches the back of your throat again and again, each time it slides back into your mouth, you feel a solid wall hit your face and again and again as you struggle to breath. Your eyes roll back into your skull as the oxygen leaves your lungs

The same object enters your hole, quickly opening you up in one swift motion with the same dry and rough pace as before. Back and forth they move, your brain finally catches up to you, and that’s when you realize the things inside of you are cocks. Two, thick monstrous cocks splitting you open on both end, with no seeming concern for your wellbeing or safety. Seeking out their own pleasure from your own body.

Your vision starts to blacken when the entity in front pulls out, you think it’s giving you mercy as you cough up spit and what seems like pre-cum, but it's hard to tell, head hung low as you take in deep gulps of fresh air, your head swimming and eyes fuzzy, you think the beings are going to show mercy as the one behind slows. Only you were quickly proven wrong, a rough tug on your hair and a sharp slap across your face, again and again, each cheek turning bright red and stained with tears, before the invisible cock was shoved down your throat again. They want you awake for this. Why? You couldn't think of why.

You'd been counting down the days to the next full moon, and making plans. You remembered it looked like he pulled up a skirt, so you thought, maybe... Maybe if you lie down on the bed earlier than he usually gets to the room, he might...?

That thought stuck with you, so when you next went clothes shopping, and found a skirt with a hem a little below your knees on sale cheap, you impulsively bought it. Long skirts weren't usually your thing, but you felt like it might work better if you were dressed the part.

You also went looking for an old skeleton key, because the door was always locked except when the ghost was there, and the owner hadn't given you a key. You were afraid to ask for one - what would you say you wanted it for?? - but a skeleton key is a skeleton key, right? You ended up buying three different ones from local antique shops until you found one that fit in the lock.

You wanted to be in the bed already before he got there and unlocked the door, because you weren't sure he'd be able to grab you and toss you on the bed like he did to his unseen partner. But you had a pretty good idea of how the woman had been laying, where he'd been thrusting into the quilt, and you were pretty sure you'd fit into the space just fine. All your plans in place, you just had to wait for the moon.

When the night of the full moon finally arrived, the skirt and key had been hanging on your closet door for more than a week. You stripped off your pants first, pulling the skirt on instead, and then decided to pair it with a deep v neck tee with no bra underneath. You weren't sure you had seen him grope the woman, because she hadn't been visible, but, well. Just in case. After pulling that on, you bit your lip and then pulled off your panties and tossed them in the hamper - they'd only get in the way. But it made you nervous to take them off, and vulnerable in a way that honestly only turned you on more.

Then you left your bedroom and walked up the stairs, every step making you extremely aware how exposed you were. It was a little chilly, but it wasn't just the cold raising goosebumps on your arms and hardening your nipples.

You stopped in front of the locked door, hesitating for a moment. Were you really going to do this? Wasn't this kind of crazy? But the wetness between your legs made the decision for you, and you turned the key in the lock, and entered the room.

Twilight hadn't quite faded, but the moon was bright in the window, and you felt even more exposed, even though none of the other houses nearby had a third story, so no one could really see in the window. You laid down on the bed carefully, as though any sound might give you away, though rationally there was no way anyone would hear.

And then you waited. It had been hard to wait downstairs, you'd been so afraid you'd be too late somehow, but waiting up here in the semi dark was somehow even worse. You'd laid down intentionally with your legs spread, but after only about ten minutes you'd closed them out of nervousness, telling yourself you'd just open them back up when he opened the door.

You knew the haunting usually started about two and a half hours after sunset, but you'd come up here almost an hour early, and waiting in the dark was torture. You started touching yourself over the skirt a little to try and ease the tension, but without the panties beneath it you just felt even more exposed. Maybe if you'd brought a vibrator - but no, you didn't want to cum before the ghost even got here. So you continued to wait, and tried not to squirm too much.

When you finally heard the creak in the hall, you startled and then bit your lip, forcing yourself to calm down as you widened your legs again.

As he opened the door, you watched his eyes scan the room, and then watched as he grabbed someone who wasn't there, and slammed them down into the bed - right where you were. His hand hit the center of your chest, hard, and his touch was freezing cold. He kept his weight on you, heavy pressure, as he got up unto the bed. You could almost make out some of the words he was saying, too, this time - his voice was just barely audible as he growled "whore" and then something like "teach you a lesson".

That sent a shiver down your spine - you'd assumed it was just rough sex with a lover - had he been raping her? Still though, you were here on purpose and he was only a ghost, doing the same thing every full moon - he didn't deviate from it, and couldn't actually hurt you. Probably. The dangerous edge just made it more hot though, as he unbuckled his pants, and then, yes, pushed up the skirt you were wearing.

You hadn't been sure he actually could move fabric, but as his icy hands moved up your thighs you couldn't help but arch a little into his touch, and then gasp as he slapped between your legs, hitting your already very sensitive clit, before returning his hand to your chest, fingers digging into one of your breasts as he gripped it tightly and held you down, using his other hand to part your folds and guide himself inside.

You moaned as he entered you, just as thick as you'd been hoping, almost too long for you to handle, and so cold it burned. He was snarling words again, in that same vicious tone, and even though you couldn't make out many of the words, you could feel his rage and his roughness, and it only made you wetter.

He switched to holding down both of your arms, and you could actually hear his cock smacking into your wet cunt with each thrust. You weren't even trying to hold back your moans anymore, as he thrusted wildly, fast and deep, rutting into you without holding back. His grip your arms was so tight it felt like they might actually bruise.

As you got closer and closer to the edge, you squirmed a little, trying to get the angle juuuust right... And then three more thrusts and you were almost shrieking as you came, the intensity of his grip, the vicious words and facial expressions, the icyness of his cock, and the way he was slamming into your clit and rocketing up past your g-spot, not to mention the weeks of anticipation, all combining to give you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life.

And just after you hit the peak, there was a sound, and he turned and grabbed someone, just where you'd been last time, his hand wrapped around your throat, and though he'd stilled for the moment, you could feel him throbbing within in, and that combined with the memory of being choked set off another orgasm, an aftershock of the first one, but still enough to leave you breathless.

Then you heard sudden steps and the firework sound, and above you his face went slack and he crumpled. As he fell he turned to mist and dissipated, dissolving rather than pulling out, leaving you all alone suddenly in the dark room; the only sound was your labored breathing.

The firework was a gunshot then, probably, you thought to yourself. Damn. So he was replaying the moment of his death. You had kind of mixed feelings about that - on the one hand, if he had been raping the woman... Well. You certainly couldn't blame someone for shooting him. But you were also... Sort of glad? Because it meant you had your own personal spectral rape fantasy - real enough to touch but not so real you were actually in danger - every full moon.

Jake sat around one of the large communal fires, the new generation sitting around with him. They had all become adults years ago. Many of them had mates and their own children who were sitting on their laps. Neteyam had his own five children running around. Tuk’s youngest daughter was sitting on her Grandfather’s lap, enjoying the small bits of food Jake would cut up for her.

Spider sat with them. He had always enjoyed the old ghost stories that Jake had told. Hearing the scary stories told by humans back on Earth was one of the few things that Spider enjoyed about human culture.

“-and there I was at Sunny Medows, an abandoned mental institution. The foyer was dark; the power hadn’t been turned on. Which wasn’t unusual; many ghosts hated the light, thriving in the darkness,” Jake paused momentarily when the toddler in his lap whined for more food.

Biting off another piece of meat, Jake used his fingers to feed it to his youngest grandchild before continuing, “It was a small team, only myself and one other; going there with only a team of two was idiocy, but we were young 19-year-olds and eager to prove ourselves. We received the map and saw that the breaker was near the entrance. The lights made it a bit easier to navigate, but that didn’t make it any safer for us.” 

Jake looked off to the side as if checking his 6; the first thing we noticed while walking around was the temperature. Even without the power, the building was pretty warm; none of the rooms had even the slightest temperature decrease on the upper levels. There was nothing on EMF, and we were surprised; even as we checked around the alter someone had made, covered in blood, the candles already lit despite no one being there, but we found nothing. Cursing at our luck, we headed back to the van; I noticed that my partner was looking around; he turned to me and asked if I heard that. I was confused. I hadn’t heard anything; we both shrugged it off and made our way to the van, changing out our gear.”

Ao’nung and his pregnant mate joined us, curious about the story.

“The basement was treacherous, with little escape rooms, so we went in prepared; I had a writing book, a camera situation on a tripod, and a D.O.T. S. Projector; my partner went in with a UV light, a Spirit Box, and an EMF reader just in case,” Jake looked deep into the fire seemingly mourning.

Tonowari and Ronal joined the group, their third child now on the brink of adulthood and another little one with them.

Jake nodded in greeting before continuing, “Maybe if I had checked our sanity, maybe if I had grabbed the parabolic microphone, maybe if I had listened to his concerns, he’d still be here, but I-we didn’t. We went back into the building, cocky that we’d find the bastard and get out. We were arrogant and stupid and charged into the basement, not caring that the halls were narrow, leaving scarce room for escape.”

Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Spider all tensed; spatial awareness is something that Jake drilled into them harshly; even the mentions of this place were making them overly aware of their surroundings.

“My partner brought out the Spirit Box and started to ask it questions, for it to open the door, to flip a light switch, what their name was, how they died, and he kept repeating those questions over and over again. Until finally, a door slammed nearby.”

They may not have been used to or even seen the standard doors from Earth, but they imagined that they could hear the bang as the door hit the wall.

Jake shook his head, “It didn’t take us long to find the door. My partner quickly brought out the UV light, and there it was, a bright glowing handprint. We were so excited, our first piece of evidence right in our faces. It was right then that we found some EMF, only level 2, but it was something.” Jake released a long sigh.

“Confidant we had found the room, I opened the door and looked around; it was nothing more than an overturned room like all the others. So I placed the D.O.T.S., making sure it overlooked the whole room and set up the camera on the tripod. I was so fucking giddy, I tossed the writing book into the ground in the middle of the room,” Jake huffed out a bitter laugh, “And that’s when it went to hell.”

Neytiri’s ears folded back as she placed a hand on her mate's shoulder.

Spider looks at them oddly; this was just a ghost story, right? Jake’s just using himself to help sell the story… there’s no such thing as human ghosts.

“That’s when I heard it, it was soft and gentle, women singing. The lights weren’t flickering, but we knew the ghost was close. There were a couple of tables that had been turned over, so we hid behind them. I remember cursing myself for not having the camera in my hand, wanting to see if I could get a decent sighting. I didn’t even notice my partner's face. The humming got louder, but I didn’t see anything. Finally, it stopped; I laughed, thinking we had duped it. Until I turned to my partner, only to see his face as white as the walls once were. His eyes filled with fear as he pointed to the spot right in front of us. It was right there, and I was laughing, thinking we were fine. I rolled my eyes, thinking he was being over dramatic; I slapped him on the shoulder before standing up and heading back to the room. It wasn’t cold enough to even warrant bringing in a thermometer, and the book had been chucked to the other side of the room.” 

The group leaned closer, intrigued with the new information.

“I was ecstatic with the information; I took out my journal and crossed off ghostwriting and freezing temps. With the previous information, I knew there were only four types of ghosts left. I looked at my partner, telling him to leave the EMF reader on the floor and to try again with the spirit box, so he did; no matter how much he talked, it wouldn’t respond. Frustrated, we decided to return to the bus; the moment we left the room, the lights shut off, leaving us in darkness, and the singing returned. And this time, it was hunting us.” Jake’s eyes glazed over as he spoke the next part.

“The halls were so narrow we could barely run side by side, and with the debris all over the floor, it was a mess, I couldn’t see shit. It didn’t take long for me to trip over something. I landed flat on my face; some of the broken glass embedded itself into my face and arm, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I could feel my blood dripping out of my wounds and onto the floor, but I could see it; I could see her. Blinking as it came towards me, her singing became louder and louder until she was right in front of me. She chilled the air around her, and I waited; I waited for death, but it never came. She moved right past me; I wasn’t her target. I felt a moment of relief before,” Jake choked, “Before he started screaming.”

Gasps and soft curses filled the area as they understood what happened.

“My partner begged me to help him, but I couldn’t find him; it was too dark. I shakily crawled, trying to get to my feet, the glass entering my skin as I pushed myself up. And that’s when I heard it, a choked-off rasp, and then nothing. I was too late; I knew he was dead. There was nothing else I could do but haul my ass out of there. I stumbled out, bleeding, as I made my way to the bus. Honestly, I don’t know if I was crying or not, just that my partner was dead and that I was next. And to make things worse, I found out what it was that killed my partner on the bus. I watched the cameras; I was first greeted by his face, stark and pale, fear etched into his face… The floating orb was easy to spot in the dark room. That left two ghost types, and I had a feeling I knew which one. Then there it was, her silhouette in the D.O.T.S., a banshee, a fucking banshee.” Jake's sudden anger surprised the group.

All along, the bitch had been following us, scaring my partner, dwindling his sanity down to nothing; she targeted him the whole time. But I didn’t fucking listen, and now he’s dead. I logged the ghost type in and left.”

Jake slowly looked everyone in the eye, ensuring he had their attention, “Human ghosts have not yet been spotted on Pandora, but that doesn’t mean they won't be here. Too many humans have died painful deaths; we will see them sooner or later.” 

The Metkayina looked horrified, wondering how the vrrtep could still cause such damage even in death. 

That was until Lo’ak busted out laughing, “Good try; I have to say these ghost stories get better every time,” Lo’ak said, standing up, his mates and kids following him. 

Neteyam chuckled as he followed his brother, and soon, the group dispersed. Looking back, Neytiri was still there comforting Jake as he stared deep into the fire. But no one noticed, not even Spider.

They all made their way to their respective marui, besides Spider, who lives further out in one of the metal husks that allows oxygen to flow. He hates the damn thing, but hey, he can breathe.

Spider continued into the small forestry area on the island where his shack rests, his shoulders tense after hearing Jake’s ghost story and just how seriously he took it. He also didn’t laugh at the end like he usually does.

Spider was knocked out of his thoughts by the sound of singing softly and filled with mourning; he spun around, looking every which way, trying to find the source. 

“Come on, guys, this isn’t funny,” He laughed slightly.

But the humming only got louder.

Spider looked around, bedding over, trying to see them through the thicket, “Kiri? Is that you? Come on, this is ridiculous,” He laughed, shaking his head, “Lo’ak, I swear if you put your kids up to this, your ass is mine the next time we spar.”

He shook his head as he turned around, and his scream broke off when he was face to face with a transparent human woman.

The next thing Spider knew, he was in a dark shack; the wood had crumbled long ago, and the glass windows had shattered. He stood shakily to his feet, wondering where he was; this shack didn’t look like anything he had seen on the island. 

A thump sounded nearby, “Hello? Is someone there?” Spider asked concernedly before his self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he was behind a table. 

“Yes,” A soft voice whispered. 

Spider looked around, seeing nothing; he was alone in the room. He stood up, walking around the room, the old floorboards creaking underneath him, “Are you in the room?” He asked again, fear clouding his vision; something wasn’t right.

“Here,” The same voice whispered. 

Spider hopped over some of the broken furniture, still seeing nothing, not even a speaker for the voice to have come from.

He huffed out irritably but not daring to do anything more to antagonize his captor; he had learned something since the last time he was kidnapped all those years ago.

Crouching down for better leverage, he asks calmly, “Well then, where are you?”

Something was behind him, and he couldn’t get away “Behind,” Spider turned around to see the same transparent woman from before.

The shock of seeing her knocked him off balance; he landed on his ass as he tried to back away because Jake was right! Jake tried to tell them the truth, and they had all laughed it off! And now Spider would pay the price. 

Tears pricked at Spider’s eyes; it was already too close, there was no escape. Yet it didn’t seem to be aggressive, simply returning to its humming while following him; her grotesque smile sent a wave of nausea through him as he continued to back away. 

The shack was small; it didn’t take long for Spider to be backed into a corner. She seemed pleased by this, now that she was able to close in on her target.

“Please stop! Why are you doing this?” Spider begs as her hands wrap around his face.

She gently wipes the tears off his face, “Alone,” her soft voice says before crashing their lips together.

Her hums were soft and happy as she kissed Spider. The same could not be said for him; Spider screwed his eyes shut as her cold lips met his; they were chapped and tasted like blood; slowly, her hands traveled downward, feeling his muscular shoulders and biceps. She smiled appreciatively as she felt Spider’s body before pulling away.

Spider opened his eyes hesitantly, trying to look away from where her hands rested on his chest. She giggled slightly before forcing him to stand. 

“Hey! What’s that for?” He blurted out, unable to hold back his mouth.

Thankfully for him, she didn’t take offense, “Fun,” She responded, letting her hands travel even lower. 

Spider’s eyes widened as he backed away, hitting the wall, “No, no, no, we’re not doing this.”

She narrowed her eyes before making a wailing like sound. She charged at him, her body pinning him there as she ripped off his tewng, making sure there were no salvageable pieces. 

“NO!” Spider screamed, pushing her off.

His chest felt tight as the tears returned, using one of his hands to cover himself. 

She wailed again before stalking off, “Mine!” Was the last thing she said before disappearing. 

With her gone, Spider ran, not caring about his nudity; he just needed to get out. Jake was right humans were becoming ghosts on Pandora, and they were fucking insane!

The trees and brush moved past Spider with ease as he continued to run. He didn’t stop, never tiring as he ran for hours, the adrenaline keeping him going. 

The sun had begun to rise when he finally heard it: Kiri’s voice!

“Kiri! Are you there? Where are you?” He yelled, trying to pinpoint her location. 

Kiri’s voice mixed with others, along with the sounds of sniffles.

“Guys, what’s wrong? I need your help! Jake was right! The ghost grabbed me, and I think it’s going to come back!” Spider shouted as he made his way towards the noise, yet no one answered him.

Lo’ak’s head finally came into view.

Spider began to get angry, forgetting that he was nude. He stormed up to Lo’ak, “What the fuck, bro! I need your help, and you can’t even-” He stopped himself as he saw Lo’ak’s face; it was swollen and covered in tears.

Looking around, everyone had a similar expression.

Spider deflated as he realized what happened, his heart pounding out of his chest, “Who did it kill? I know it must have taken someone.”

But again, there was no answer.

Hesitantly, Spider walked forward to the circle of people, trying to peek in and see the body.

Spider’s voice caught in his throat as he looked down.

Tonowari spoke up, “I have never seen a death like this, Sully; what could have caused this?”

Jake looked heartbroken as he looked down at the body; its face had the same look as his partner who died long ago, “I’ve seen this before; I’ll grab the tools from my marui. It won't attack again until eclipse.” He muttered blandly, his voice void of emotion.

“No, no, no, it’s not true, I’m- I’m, I’m not,” Spider choked out, only to feel two arms wrapped around his waist.

She smiled against his bare back, “Mine,” She cooed happily.

Spider couldn’t respond as he stared at his own body. Limp on the ground, his expression filled with nothing but fear.

Because Jake Sully was right. Human ghosts came to Pandora, and Spider was the first victim.

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