That Witch Bitch

More Ghosts

You whip your head around and Queenie stood behind you. She was fiddling with her hands anxiously.

"I guess I'm a ghost now.." She says, not quite meeting your eyes as if she were embarrassed.

Your face fell.

You had never liked Queenie a whole load but you still knew her and she was kind in inviting you on her dream holiday and now it was your fault she was dead.

Why? Because you chose the stupid fucking hotel.

A cacophony of maniacal laughing echoed behind you, only infuriating you more.

You could feel your feet tingling as you lifted slightly off the floor in rage.

All Queenie could do is stare at you and your surprisingly unforgiving facial expressions as you set the dinner table on fire.

This wasn't you.

You step back and recoil in horror at the mess you'd created.

You didn't care one bit about any of the killers in this room- you don't know if that included you or not- but either way, you cared a lot about Misty and her usually pale, white and innocent dress had erupted in a frenzy of red and orange colours before residing into a deep soulless black.

"Mmmmmphhh" Misty tries to yell for help but her mouth had been covered.

To your surprise, the attendees to the supposed 'devils night' feast were all so bothered by the food that had been set on fire that they didn't notice Queenie throwing water onto Misty and quickly untying her and dragging her out the room.

Queenie and Misty paused just before leaving the room and Queenie met your gaze. The look you gave her was a 'I'll distract them for now. You go on.'

You really felt like the protagonist as you pushed the still burning table at the ghosts with your mind, it was lucky that they actually were affected by the flames otherwise you wouldn't have any protection.

You heard their squeals of anger as they burnt to a crisp before you.

You sighed in relief as their last yells resided into nothingness.

Killing felt good but you suppressed the feeling because that would make them right.

You shot a grin to the maid who was waiting at the back of the room. She looked like she was scared.

She was staring at something that stood before you.

You flip your head around, wondering what could possibly be more terrifying than those people who had just been burnt.

To your revelation, the dead murders were stood before you.

To your horror, they looked ready to kill you. Anger and rage radiating from their faces.

"W-What?" You mumble.

"We are ghosts, Y/n" James Patrick March said, eyebrows raised and eyes bulging.

You should've known better.

You would've formed another sentence but you were too late.

The ghosts had rendered you unconscious and all you could see was constant, never ending, completely soulless black, the exact colour of Misty's burnt gown.