Battle of Souls

In spirit of Halloween I'm writing a short ghost story. Enjoy the creepiness!


He had finally caught her. Months of investigating and gathering information showed enough evidence to conivct her of the murder, no murders, she had orchestrated. She had been the puppet meister the entire time, and he had never seen a woman so heartless and cruel as her.
She had almost gotten away, almost.
He was just about to confront, and arrest her; lock her away to rot in jail. He marched up the steps of her grand manor, his knuckles hovering over the door. A whoosh of air and a thud of something large hitting the earth sounded behind him. He turned around slowly and what he saw made his gray eyes widen in horror.
There on the ground lay the bloody and twisted body of Lady Scarlet, the woman of his investigation. Her limbs were twisted, jutting out at angles not possible on the scale of human motion. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle and her evergreen eyes stared lifelessly at the overcast sky above.
His body froze, his lungs froze mid-breath. He could only stare at the bleeding corpse a few feet away, a scarlet pool slowly spreading over the dusty ground. It wasn't until several moments later when a shrill and terrified scream pierced the air that he was able to free himself from the shock.
His lungs wheezed as new air circulated into them. He clutched the cloth over his rapid beating heart, as if he could calm it. His eyes darted around the empty courtyard trying to locate the source of the scream. To his confusion he saw nothing.
The door beside him burst open and several servants of Lady Scarlet ran out of the house. The maids screamed at the sight of their mistress and the butlers had to pull them back inside. Horror was clear in all their eyes. How had this happened? They all wondered. Their mistress was fine until a few moments ago. She had glance out the window then ran and hurled herself off the balcony of her sleeping chambers.
A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance just before the rain started to pour down. The detective, Mr. Hanzel couldn't speak, only watch as the rain washed the corpse's blood into the soil.

The funeral was two days after the tragic suicide. Mr. Hanzel attended, dressed in his best black slacks and suit. It was raining that day too and it fit the somber air. Dozens of nobles attended, all cluttered together under black parasols. They all left after the the oak casket was lowered into the ground, but Mr. Hanzel stayed. He was to shaken to leave quite yet. How had he allowed his to happen? He clenched his fists, no it wasn't his fault. Lady Scarlet didn't want to be caught so she chose death over jail.

Hours had passed before he knew it and the sky was darkening as the sun began to set. A full-bodied shiver ran through him, finally snapping him out of his circulatory thoughts. He sneezed and realized he was soaked to the bone. He was freezing, his fingers turning shades of blue and purple. 

He turned and took a step towards the cemetery exit. A low whisper then brushed past his neck, making the hairs stand on end. He snapped his head back around and stumbled back. A pale, whispy Lady Scarlet floated up from the earth. Dark blood stains were heavily visible compared to her white complexion. He took several more shaky steps back and the spirit turned it's gaze to him. 

It floated above the ground in an almost stupor. It's eyes unfocused and gray. Another step back and a twig snapped beneath his feet. The spirits head snapped up and it's eyes flared a bloody red. It's face contorted as it's mouth opened impossibly wide and her fingers became claws. It lunged at Mr. Hanzel and he fell to his back side, arms raised to protect himself. 

Just before the spirit reached him a blinding flash of light appeared above his head and a blinding white spirit lunged at Lady Scarlets spirit. Mr. Hanzel squinted through the light and a astonished gasp sounded from his cold lips. The other spirit bore a striking resemblance to Duchess William, Lady Scarlets older sister whom she had murdered.

Duchess William had a heavenly glow surrounded her body draped in a white billowing dress, if he had to guess she was a angel. 

The two spirits shrieked and growled as they fought each other. They shot all sround though the air, leaving light and dark trails in their wake. Mr. Hanzel's eyes couldn't follow the battle until they soared high above him. With one final cry they both plummeted toward Lady Scarlet's fresh grave. They plunged into the earth as if it was liquid. An unnatural and unsettling silence settled over the cemetery. 

The fright and shock from encountering spirits of another realm caused Mr. Hanzel consciousness to fade. His body slumped to the ground, where it stayed until the morrow when a young mother found him and he was rushed to the hospital. 

He feared no one would believe his story so he told no soul, and took it to his grave. 

Favorite thing about fall.

The wonderfully crunchy leaves. 

Yellow (10/10)

The color of her hair matched the shinning sun as she walked in front of him. A glance to the side showed a field of sun-flowers, the same colored yellow. He was seeing it everywhere and thinking of her when he did. 

It was maddening. 

Yet he didn't hate it. 

He saw yellow. 

He saw her. Her eyes, her smile. He heard her laugh. Her anger as she scolded him, that was the most familiar. 

He saw it every time he saw the color yellow. The sun. The flowers. 

The train station loomed into view. Panic seized his pounding heart. He was running out of time. 

The train arrived, a foot on the train. He had to do it. 

He breathed in, and turned around.

He had to tell her.

He had to tell her that she was his lovely yellow. The calm yellow he would always return to. The yellow he loved. 

Grey (9/10)

Watching the old vessel his soul used to reside in a sense of peace overcame him. The  cold, gray suit of armor his soul had called home for four years was dissolving into dust before him. It had deprived him of feeling anything, breathing, smelling, and sleeping. Not needing rest he spent every night those four years just waiting for the sun to rise so he could move again. 

Many would call it a prison, himself included, but it had allowed his soul to continue to exist, so it was hard for him to harbor any I'll thoughts towards the armor. It had saved him so many times a body of flesh and bone would fail. 

Now, back in his proper body, he had to wait. He had to wait for his brother to get him and take him home. So they could both have their happy ending. 

Red (8/10)

Rage. Powerful, all-consuming rage filled him. He had finally found the man, the thing, that had killed his best friend. He snapped his fingers again and again, creating flames hot enough to melt flesh right off the bone. But the thing, the monster didn't die. 

He snapped again, and again, and again. 

He couldn't stop himself. He was lost to his sense of finally getting revenge. 

He only saw red. As the flames exploded again, and again, and again, and again. 

The monster finally withered, falling on its last legs. 

He went to snap again, when a hand grabbed his arms. 

The red faded. 

Orange (7/10)

His lit the cigaret and took a long drag. The end turned a bright orange. This orange he was accustom to. Day after day that orange glow hung out of his lips. It was a comfort more than addiction. That's what he told himself at least. 

The glow was mesmerizing, when he was lost in thought. Or lack of, as the situation at hand was. Staring at the flickering orange glow of the burning cigaret he allowed his mind to become blank. 

It allowed him to forget how useless he was. How he had let his friends down. How he was stuck here in this hospital bed, unable to use his legs anymore. How that one fight had changed his life forever. 

That glowing cigaret allowed him to forget. 

Blue (6/10)

The day she doned the blue uniform her life changed. She became a pawn for the government. Her skills with guns, especially as a sniper caught the attention of some higher officials. She was sent to war. 

She can never forget all the people she shot down, all in name of a pointless war. A rebellion that should have never started. A rebellion that killed so many innocent people. She shot many of those innocent people, by commanding orders. 

She also met him at the war. Another more powerful pawn. 

She became his lieutenant. The one to watch over and protect him, all the while knowing if he was going to become a traitor she would be the one to pull the trigger. 

He made her strong, in return she made him strong. The blue uniform she has to wear, the uniform that has doomed her fate to service.

It gave her the thing she now wishes to protect for the rest of her life.