TheAmbiguousStoryteller
Junior Member
Salem, Massachusetts. The time is 9 am. Jacob bishop drives the 1970 mercury cougar XR7 towards the John Proctor house. The sun was high, and the weather was warming up. The plants had started budding into flowers with vibrant colours, the leaves and the grass lush green, but the wind was still cold. He looked in the rearview, seeing a ghost that looked like a burn victim. Jacob could smell smoke and burning hair. "You're not supposed to be here," Jacob said assertively.
The ghost remained silent, staring at Jacob in the eyes before vanishing in an instant. Jacob swallowed the lump in his throat. It made him think about the superstition. Hold your breath, driving past a graveyard. Of course, this was never going to stop a ghost from following you. Most people couldn't see them begin with, and generally, they couldn't affect the physical world. But like everything else, there are those particularly nasty ones. Jacob pulled into the driveway. He looked in his rearview one more time to make sure nothing was there. Then he exited the car. Following the path to the door, he stepped into the Foyer. His fedora and jacket being placed on the coat rack. On the ottoman to the left, he placed his bag.
"Elizabeth?" He called out; the manor was too quiet. Especially during the witch trials anniversary, Jacob expected Elizabeth to be extremely active. He shrugged it off but kept an eye out for her cause she was an evil ghost. Jacob picked up his bag, releasing a sigh. The manor kept most of the decor, aside from some of the den being turned into office space. That is where Jacob navigated to. The old oak desk, a small filing cabinet next to it. Jacob sits at his desk, still really uneasy that Proctor's ghosts had become so quiet. He was always behind on paperwork. No matter how much he did, there was always more. He takes a deep breath beginning to type out a report. The decor from the 17th century seemed to be still. He continued to pound on the keyboard, the droning click as the characters popped up on the screen.
Jacob stopped typing and looked over his shoulders, cautiously checking the room for anything that might be out of place. He reached down to his bag and opened it up. The items inside looked small that they had to have been miniatures. He reaches into the bag and grabs a small iron bar just in case. All the records say that Iron can break up a ghost's form, and it takes ghosts to manifest apparitions a ton of energy. He placed the bar next to him on the desk and continued to type out his past case reports. Once again looking over both shoulders to make sure nothing was going to jump out and scare him.
The ghost remained silent, staring at Jacob in the eyes before vanishing in an instant. Jacob swallowed the lump in his throat. It made him think about the superstition. Hold your breath, driving past a graveyard. Of course, this was never going to stop a ghost from following you. Most people couldn't see them begin with, and generally, they couldn't affect the physical world. But like everything else, there are those particularly nasty ones. Jacob pulled into the driveway. He looked in his rearview one more time to make sure nothing was there. Then he exited the car. Following the path to the door, he stepped into the Foyer. His fedora and jacket being placed on the coat rack. On the ottoman to the left, he placed his bag.
"Elizabeth?" He called out; the manor was too quiet. Especially during the witch trials anniversary, Jacob expected Elizabeth to be extremely active. He shrugged it off but kept an eye out for her cause she was an evil ghost. Jacob picked up his bag, releasing a sigh. The manor kept most of the decor, aside from some of the den being turned into office space. That is where Jacob navigated to. The old oak desk, a small filing cabinet next to it. Jacob sits at his desk, still really uneasy that Proctor's ghosts had become so quiet. He was always behind on paperwork. No matter how much he did, there was always more. He takes a deep breath beginning to type out a report. The decor from the 17th century seemed to be still. He continued to pound on the keyboard, the droning click as the characters popped up on the screen.
Jacob stopped typing and looked over his shoulders, cautiously checking the room for anything that might be out of place. He reached down to his bag and opened it up. The items inside looked small that they had to have been miniatures. He reaches into the bag and grabs a small iron bar just in case. All the records say that Iron can break up a ghost's form, and it takes ghosts to manifest apparitions a ton of energy. He placed the bar next to him on the desk and continued to type out his past case reports. Once again looking over both shoulders to make sure nothing was going to jump out and scare him.