Ghostboo
Well-Known Member
I had a couple different ideas on the docket for new stories, and then…..got swept up in Halloween and went in a totally different direction than any of them. It's gonna be a slowwwww burn, looks like. So here we are, inspired from all the great spooky pop culture we have access to this October! Enjoy!
Chapter One
The immaculate living room was quiet, except for the hum of voices talking in the kitchen nearby. All the walls, the furniture, and the accessories in sight were white, or various shades of beige. Except for the young woman with bright blue hair seated on a pristine couch, and the man dressed in black across from her on an overstuffed and only lightly tinted chair, it all went together.
Fuck it, thought Daron, reaching into the pocket of his dark jeans for a Snickers bar. The crinkle cut into the near silence as he opened it, and blue-haired Freddie grinned at him from her seat. Still, she didn’t speak up. The words from next door where their boss, Xander, and coworker Sarah were discussing the strange happenings in this house with its owner were mostly lost. But not all.
“I heard it,” rose a little hysterically out of the murmurs. That was the house’s owner, Monica. She had reached out to Xander’s team certain that her dead son was trying to contact her.
For many years, Xander, a charismatic and overwhelmingly kind man, had his own reality show. Psychic Adventures. Many people watched, for the handsome man was easy on the eyes while being likable and convincing. Some of the “adventures” were debunked on air, some were left as a question mark, but rarely did any customers leave dissatisfied.
Now, Xander had moved into true altruism. He believed in his work and abilities, and believed in using that to help people. The money he made from Psychic Adventures was not going to run out anytime soon, and with it, he paid his team to help him assist people. Julie, a nurse practitioner with experience in the medical and mental fields. Daron, the tech consultant. And most recently, Freddie, brought on at Daron’s request (re:demand) as the resident et al. scientist, with specific experience in microbiology and zoology.
“And the horror expert,” she’d often add with a crooked grin. At 25, the girl was at least 10 years younger than the rest of the group. Xander led them at a robust but surprising 44 years, Sarah at 40, and Daron at 35. She had met the rest of the team at her first job out of college - in the lab of the police department. She’d worked there, rather unhappily, for a couple of years before being allowed to assist in a case where the victim claimed aliens, but as it turns out, they were just suffering from a couple extraneous personalities. When she’d received a job offer after the case closed, she’d left the police department and never looked back.
It was coming up to about six months since she’d been hired. She’d proved an invaluable asset, even if her enthusiasm was sometimes overwhelming, Daron thought. He was the resident skeptic, and was grateful for the help in quickly and firmly squashing any idea that certain phenomenon were “supernatural”. She had ideas that didn’t even occur to him, sometimes. Still, the excitable girl was not a small personality by any means.
“Not going to share?” She spoke up finally, with a hint of mocking hurt to her voice. Daron studied his Snickers bar, with maybe one bite left, then looked back up at Freddie and popped it in his mouth.
“Sorry Winnifred,” he said as soon as he swallowed. “You know to bring your own candy.”
The glare from the opposing couch turned sharp and real.
“Don’t call me thaaaat,” she sang, running a hand through her hair. The top portion was a deep brown, running into a vibrant aqua color that brushed the top of her chest. It changed often, and could, on occasion, reflect her mood. Her outfit on this particular day, as it usually did, leaned vintage. A v-neck top, deeper blue than her hair, ruched into a white circle skirt. It flattered her decidedly curvy figure, small but still not the fashionably thin that went with many current clothing trends.
“Then don’t ask me to share my chocolate,” Daron shrugged back with a quick flash of a grin and his trademark snark. Freddie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling back. Daron caught himself tugging his black t-shirt away from his middle and pulled back, sucking in instead as he moved his gaze away from Freddie to the other areas of the room. He was antsy to get to check out the rest of the house, but Monica had been clear - and shrill - about how they were only to check for the normal environmental factors with her.
And that’s not suspicious or anything, Daron thought wryly as the discussion in the kitchen seemed to wind down. Footsteps approached, and then the door swung open to reveal the trio. Monica was a frighteningly thin woman who looked older than her 45 years. Especially compared to Xander, who could have passed for much younger, or frankly ageless. His smooth, dark skin was covered in a close-cropped black beard and, in turn, covered a pearly white, comforting smile. Julie was pretty but nondescript, in plain clothing, and with a carefully maintained pixie cut. She fit in the sterile room along with Monica, as much as one could.
Daron and Freddie were clearly the black sheep, left behind in the room for a reason, and Daron was fine with that. He wasn’t as much of a people person as Xander and Julie, who were fine with placating often clearly insane clientele. Appearance wise, his Armenian heritage allowed him very differently handsome features, with thick eyebrows, a slightly crooked nose, and perpetually tanned-looking skin. He was often pegged as Greek. Favoring darker colors on his clothing, Daron stuck to the more casual side of things. T-shirts. Flannels in winter.
He’d been consulting for a long time, and this job was the best he’d found, if a little on the stressful side. Which meant a few more beers at the end of a long day. A bigger celebratory pizza when the truth was finally uncovered. A few more candy pieces that grew to fully candy bars out on the road during a lengthy gig. And so Daron, who had always held a sturdy build, had been tilting more and more into the “soft” side of things since joining this team a few years ago. In particular, over the last few months. He’d been catching himself tugging out clinging t-shirts more and more lately, and he filed the knowledge away under the “I will start a diet - eventually” tab in his brain.
Freddie, meanwhile, was plenty personable, but also rather striking-looking and without much of a filter. She had blossomed outside of the police lab, changing her hair to match brightly colored outfits at will. So, especially for the more conservative clients, she was often relegated to checking the science side of things with Daron, while Xander and Julie spoke with the people involved.
“Can we check for asbestos now?” Daron asked the trio as they reappeared. Monica raised up to her full height, looking a little too much like the Other Mother in Coraline.
“I think I’d know if my home had asbestos,” she hissed. Julie, ever the calm in the storm, lay a hand on Monica’s shoulder and said something quietly in her ear.
“It was mostly a joke,” Daron muttered. “Asbestos” had become their catch-all term for an environmental cause. He caught Julie’s eye and raised a thick eyebrow, conveying clearly a so, is she just nuts? inquiry. Julie raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. Wasn’t sure. Huh. Interesting.
Skeptical
by Ghostboo
by Ghostboo
Chapter One
The immaculate living room was quiet, except for the hum of voices talking in the kitchen nearby. All the walls, the furniture, and the accessories in sight were white, or various shades of beige. Except for the young woman with bright blue hair seated on a pristine couch, and the man dressed in black across from her on an overstuffed and only lightly tinted chair, it all went together.
Fuck it, thought Daron, reaching into the pocket of his dark jeans for a Snickers bar. The crinkle cut into the near silence as he opened it, and blue-haired Freddie grinned at him from her seat. Still, she didn’t speak up. The words from next door where their boss, Xander, and coworker Sarah were discussing the strange happenings in this house with its owner were mostly lost. But not all.
“I heard it,” rose a little hysterically out of the murmurs. That was the house’s owner, Monica. She had reached out to Xander’s team certain that her dead son was trying to contact her.
For many years, Xander, a charismatic and overwhelmingly kind man, had his own reality show. Psychic Adventures. Many people watched, for the handsome man was easy on the eyes while being likable and convincing. Some of the “adventures” were debunked on air, some were left as a question mark, but rarely did any customers leave dissatisfied.
Now, Xander had moved into true altruism. He believed in his work and abilities, and believed in using that to help people. The money he made from Psychic Adventures was not going to run out anytime soon, and with it, he paid his team to help him assist people. Julie, a nurse practitioner with experience in the medical and mental fields. Daron, the tech consultant. And most recently, Freddie, brought on at Daron’s request (re:demand) as the resident et al. scientist, with specific experience in microbiology and zoology.
“And the horror expert,” she’d often add with a crooked grin. At 25, the girl was at least 10 years younger than the rest of the group. Xander led them at a robust but surprising 44 years, Sarah at 40, and Daron at 35. She had met the rest of the team at her first job out of college - in the lab of the police department. She’d worked there, rather unhappily, for a couple of years before being allowed to assist in a case where the victim claimed aliens, but as it turns out, they were just suffering from a couple extraneous personalities. When she’d received a job offer after the case closed, she’d left the police department and never looked back.
It was coming up to about six months since she’d been hired. She’d proved an invaluable asset, even if her enthusiasm was sometimes overwhelming, Daron thought. He was the resident skeptic, and was grateful for the help in quickly and firmly squashing any idea that certain phenomenon were “supernatural”. She had ideas that didn’t even occur to him, sometimes. Still, the excitable girl was not a small personality by any means.
“Not going to share?” She spoke up finally, with a hint of mocking hurt to her voice. Daron studied his Snickers bar, with maybe one bite left, then looked back up at Freddie and popped it in his mouth.
“Sorry Winnifred,” he said as soon as he swallowed. “You know to bring your own candy.”
The glare from the opposing couch turned sharp and real.
“Don’t call me thaaaat,” she sang, running a hand through her hair. The top portion was a deep brown, running into a vibrant aqua color that brushed the top of her chest. It changed often, and could, on occasion, reflect her mood. Her outfit on this particular day, as it usually did, leaned vintage. A v-neck top, deeper blue than her hair, ruched into a white circle skirt. It flattered her decidedly curvy figure, small but still not the fashionably thin that went with many current clothing trends.
“Then don’t ask me to share my chocolate,” Daron shrugged back with a quick flash of a grin and his trademark snark. Freddie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling back. Daron caught himself tugging his black t-shirt away from his middle and pulled back, sucking in instead as he moved his gaze away from Freddie to the other areas of the room. He was antsy to get to check out the rest of the house, but Monica had been clear - and shrill - about how they were only to check for the normal environmental factors with her.
And that’s not suspicious or anything, Daron thought wryly as the discussion in the kitchen seemed to wind down. Footsteps approached, and then the door swung open to reveal the trio. Monica was a frighteningly thin woman who looked older than her 45 years. Especially compared to Xander, who could have passed for much younger, or frankly ageless. His smooth, dark skin was covered in a close-cropped black beard and, in turn, covered a pearly white, comforting smile. Julie was pretty but nondescript, in plain clothing, and with a carefully maintained pixie cut. She fit in the sterile room along with Monica, as much as one could.
Daron and Freddie were clearly the black sheep, left behind in the room for a reason, and Daron was fine with that. He wasn’t as much of a people person as Xander and Julie, who were fine with placating often clearly insane clientele. Appearance wise, his Armenian heritage allowed him very differently handsome features, with thick eyebrows, a slightly crooked nose, and perpetually tanned-looking skin. He was often pegged as Greek. Favoring darker colors on his clothing, Daron stuck to the more casual side of things. T-shirts. Flannels in winter.
He’d been consulting for a long time, and this job was the best he’d found, if a little on the stressful side. Which meant a few more beers at the end of a long day. A bigger celebratory pizza when the truth was finally uncovered. A few more candy pieces that grew to fully candy bars out on the road during a lengthy gig. And so Daron, who had always held a sturdy build, had been tilting more and more into the “soft” side of things since joining this team a few years ago. In particular, over the last few months. He’d been catching himself tugging out clinging t-shirts more and more lately, and he filed the knowledge away under the “I will start a diet - eventually” tab in his brain.
Freddie, meanwhile, was plenty personable, but also rather striking-looking and without much of a filter. She had blossomed outside of the police lab, changing her hair to match brightly colored outfits at will. So, especially for the more conservative clients, she was often relegated to checking the science side of things with Daron, while Xander and Julie spoke with the people involved.
“Can we check for asbestos now?” Daron asked the trio as they reappeared. Monica raised up to her full height, looking a little too much like the Other Mother in Coraline.
“I think I’d know if my home had asbestos,” she hissed. Julie, ever the calm in the storm, lay a hand on Monica’s shoulder and said something quietly in her ear.
“It was mostly a joke,” Daron muttered. “Asbestos” had become their catch-all term for an environmental cause. He caught Julie’s eye and raised a thick eyebrow, conveying clearly a so, is she just nuts? inquiry. Julie raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. Wasn’t sure. Huh. Interesting.
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