Die as you were born, bloody.

Scientific consensus on her nature and origins has not been reached.

ISTJ: lab coats and autopsies of the not-quite-human, rows of silver file cabinets, footsteps echoing down cavernous sterile hallways, humming tape recorders, unintelligible whispers from inside the walls. 

ESTJ: dark trench coats and black coffee,  “What we need is evidence,” polaroids on cork board, caution tape, untraceable phone calls, flickering street lights, skepticism,  secret meetings in rainy alleyways.

INFP: black highways stretching into the night, screech-owl calls, baggy brown flannels,  ominous religious billboard,  unexplained cases of arson, a great once-buried force now rising from the earth.

ENFP: off-limit areas in state parks,  rings of glowing mushrooms, cabins filled with faded maps and unsettling taxidermy, caves lined with crystals, walkie talkies, the silhouette of unidentifiable antlers.

ISTP: ominous  cable towers stretching into a blood red sunset, picking locks, beat up converse and scraped knuckles, trespassing in abandoned factories and finding secret tunnels connecting the town.

ESTP: missing person newspaper headlines,  the feeling of being watched in a fluorescent midnight diner, summer storms, shady local politicians with greasy smiles, novelty ties, and bloody secrets. 

ESFJ:  bicycles with baskets, befriending loners who see ghosts, pep-talks and first aid kits, bouquets in graveyards, Ouija board sleepovers, lying hand-in-hand on a blanket  stargazing for signs of UFOs. 

ISFJ: secret treehouses where time is just a little different, shoe-boxes full of old coins no one can identify, saddle shoes, pinkie promises,  rescuing strange animals you found by the train tracks 

INTJ: specimens in formaldehyde and stolen classified documents, telepathic abilities, government surveillance, erasing your old identity, knowing too much, hiding out in a lighthouse until the time is right.

ENTJ: letterman jackets and restlessness, dreaming of flying, meteor crashes, taking home pieces of glowing space debris, calling the press,  “Don’t you understand! This could change everything!”

ISFP:  charcoal sketches of shadowy figures, porcelain dolls, sleepwalking into abandoned buildings, prophetic dreams, cornfields at midnight, attic rooms visible only to you,  “ No one ever believes me.”

ESFP:  eerie late August carnivals, fucking with things that absolutely should not be fucked with and then getting tempted by dark forces, chaotic split-lip grins, breaking curses, standing your ground. 

INFJ: boarded-up Victorian houses consumed by ivy,  gardens of poisonous plants, typewriter keys and piles of unread manuscripts, knowing all of this has happened before, taking secrets to the grave. 

ENFJ: spiral notepads and yellow pencils behind the ear, interviewing local hermits, speaking up at town hall meetings, justice for the restless dead,  making powerful enemies of faceless men in dark suits.

INTP: ‘70s science fiction paperbacks and striped tee-shirts, clay models of alien spacecraft, broken glasses, chalkboard equations, creaking swingset chains,  strange spinning lights above the suburbs. 

The Medium: Has been talking to ghosts since childhood, big round glasses and long cardigan sweater sleeves that cover their hands, wispy hair, has trouble feeling connected to the physical world, speaks rarely and softly, highly empathetic, receives messages in dreams, nurses animals back to health, reads the energy of spaces through touch, often sick and suffers frequent headaches, an easy target for malicious spirits,  sweet and spacey but also sort of creepy,  all of the others in the gang work to protect them, the only person The Skeptic has a soft spot for. 

The Chronicler: deep forest green sweaters over flannel collars, brown corduroys, terrible posture, sends stories off to pulp sci-fi and magazines but almost never gets published, hopes a true paranormal story will be their big break, dopey omnidirectional romantic that flirts awkwardly, clumsy, always knocking over vases/bookshelves, desperate for The Mad Scientist’s approval,  annoys people by comparing stuff to fictional hauntings but their literary knowledge saves them in the end, makes puns at inopportune times, huge nerd,  most likely to fall in love with a ghost. 

The Local Detective: red scarves and black peacoats, always pushing hair out of their face, strong-willed, no-nonsense with eldest sibling energy, unspoken leader, knows intergenerational levels of town gossip and lore, has been friends with The Medium since basically infancy, believes in truth and justice, determined to find answers to questions that haunt their family, the first up the ladder into the spooky attic, superstitious, precise, spends a lot of time going through old newspaper clippings,lots of friends but has trouble getting close to people emotionally, gives a hell of a pep-talk. 

The Skeptic: black lace up boots and tight leather jackets, angsty attitude and floppy hair, reluctantly along for the ride, probably somebody’s bored younger sibling or cousin, sarcastic and prickly, eye-roll city,  tries to sabotage investigations to prove a point, will antagonize ghosts deliberately, loves to start arguments with Local Detective, tends to get trapped in secret rooms with The Liability, has a lot of unresolved issues they refuse to confront until forced to by paranormal circumstances, symbolic self-discovery, probably ends up breaking a curse that saves everybody.

The Liability: striped polo shits under fleece-lined denim jackets, never not wearing a hat, scuffed converse sneakers, incapable of taking things seriously or considering consequences, does dumb daredevil stunts to impress their crush, touches everything, gives all the ghosts goofy nicknames, best friends with the Chronicler- who they view as needing to get out more often, will totally just pick up a clearly cursed item and take it home, second most likely to get possessed after The Medium, intensely loyal despite all their bullshit, would sacrifice themselves to save the group.

Roadtrip Burnout: Bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke,  sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake IDs, gas station snacks, Jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli,  paranoia between friends. 

Southern Cemetery: Magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, Spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes and barbed wire. 

Interdimensional Park Ranger: The yellow eyeshine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric. 

floaty islands

glowing mushrooms

bigger versions of normal animals

animalistic dragons

deep, sentient forests

multiple moons