《Out of Touch》 1.1 Homecoming Athelston held firm to his book. The journey had been short getting to the outskirts of Thartan. Little to no obstacles for those who''d spent a decade growing accustomed to their new circumstances. Still, they approached with caution. No one here was a novice. No one was allowed to be. Surviving so far ensured that everyone shared that one expertise. It could be argued that the young were not yet as tempered but that didn''t mean they would be anyone''s willing victim. Brigette raised her torch. The night was an unwelcomed circumstance. Their journey was planned so that they arrived during the day. The darkness brought with it many unsavoury threats. The sound of their shoes on the grass-coveredpatches of the road was mute. Under normal circumstances, there should have been no means for everything to be reclaimed so quickly by nature. It was just ... not natural. Nothing they had built was... and now it never would be again. "Nice and quiet, ladies. Don''t want to pester the locals now do we?" Oliver whispered from the back. His words snaking around Athelston and reaching the intended target Brigette. A silent finger lifted and directed behind her was all the confirmation he got. "That''s a good lad then..." he rolled his eyes and gripped tighter on his ''cross-guard''. If someone had told Athelstonyears ago that he''d be trusting his back to an ex-choirboy wielding an inverted kendo shinai he''d have likely called them a dreamer. If they told him that he''d be following closely behind a scarecrow of a girl with pockets full of an assortment of trick candles? Why he might have started backing away in a hurry. "There. That place looks good." Athelston directed the attention of the others to a playground. The group got closer and read a below an oddly clean statue, "Built to commemorate the efforts of- " then moving his finger quickly he rested on. "-2019." "Nice call, bookworm." Brigette seemed to ease up now that they''d found the place. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "You think they didn''t just repurpose the old structures for the kid''s playing area?" Oliver waved his shinai slowly around him. A green hue seeming to trail wherever the wooden shaft once was. "They could have ... but it''s the best bet we''ve got and we''re tired. Going into the buildings now would be suicide. Once it''s morning we can head over to the library and check out-" Athel was speaking before being interrupted by the two others. "- THE BOOKS!" they chimed together while shucking their bags onto a rather complicated looking slide setup. A quiet high five shared between them before the torch was set aside. It seemed to change coloursat a whim. Though currently, it felt ''warm'' and ''hearth-like''. "Funny guys. Especially after the first 50 times. 51 is certainlyyour best one yet." "I don''t know ... I thought 21 was a keeper." Oliver said in a seemingly thoughtful manner. Brig was in stitches as she pulled out somequilts from her bag. The cloth was warm to the touch despite the cold winds all around them. It was a patchwork of images and symbols. On closer inspection, you''d see the sun. The rain. The snow ... all different weather conditions. Along with them were images of a man, animals and ... "Well, it looks like both of you are in a chatty mood so I''ll take first watch. We change shifts every two hours. No extra time." Athel threatened the other two but it came across as amusing. "Whatever you say, mon Capiton!" a mock salute and the other two settled around the lamp. Athel kept an eye out for movements and activity. His vigil was shortlived however as soon he was opening his book. The outer casing was that of an Aged Bible and Koran stitched together. He took out a vial of salt and made a line at the start of the slide sectioning it off. He did so again for every way up. Once he''d confirmed that every opening was sealed he opened his book and took out a pen. Inside of it were notes he''d written to record his story over the past ten years. How everyday life fell into ruin. And how he''d become a Spec. Tackler... 1.2 Kiss and tell The catastrophe that befell mankind was given many names by the pockets of people that survived its initial stages. As to what they universally agreed to call it is still undecided. ''Dia de Muertos'' seemed fitting to most but the Mexican community strongly objected to that. Instead ''the Hallowing'' gained popularity for a spell and usually was not faced with much confusion. The exact time it began is another point of contestation. While the event didn''t strike simultaneously all over the world it did begin in the span of a day. It hit the major cities and heritage sites the hardest. Both for different reasons that would not be discovered until much later. Like a natural disaster would claim far more lives in a populated space, a paranatural disaster seemed to follow the same rule. The night that fell across the world as the Sun abandoned them to careless watch of the Moon. The spectres feared not the pale reflection of the Sun''s light. Rather revelled in its cool illumination. Possessions of the living and inanimate occurred and claimed the first lives almost immediately. Then these ''victims'' acted against loved ones and strangers creating a second, far larger string of deaths. Like dominoes falling it all went from bad to worse in a systematic representation of chaos. So the humans, not knowing how to combat what they''d never been prepared for, acted out in defence as one would expect. Going to friends and family. Seeking isolated shelter. Turning to the police and military for aid. Running to disaster shelters or places with the largest signs of ''life''. But much like carriers of a virus they only hastened the problem. The spreading. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. No one was trying to figure out the ''how''. First came the issue of survival. Of safety. At some point, it became increasingly clear that survival in the cities was impossible. That older people were more likely to be possessed than the young. That men and women with strong ''faith'' and ''resolve'' could resist the attacks of their tormentors. It wasn''t until the identification of the habits of their enemy that they realised that the only way to survive was to leave these man-made structures. Leave anything that was older than a few years behind. Buildings and structures were breeding grounds. Once outside the cities, they found the incidents of ghosts to have greatly decreased. They began to cordon off people based on age where the older folk either volunteered as perimeter guards or teachers. Knowing that all of humanity would face this crisis made knowledge being passed on paramount to their survival and hopes of combatting this change. --- Athelston rubbed his eyes to clear away the drowsiness hitting him. Looking around the perimeter while stretching his legs. His simple wristwatch giving a clear indicator that he still had half an hour till he could rest. Looking over the two carefree figures fast asleep he stifled a yawn and went back to reading... 1.3.1 Settling things The spectres destroy what they inhabit. Everyone was aware of this now. The duration of ''occupation'' may defer but it was the fate of the host to crumble and wither into nothingness. Antiques and monuments seemed to last longest. Having only been a decade it wasn''t enough time to know how long that''d be the case. When the inhabitation was finally reaching a final point the spectre grew far more powerful. Moulting from a chrysalis gave the best mental comparison. Jumping from host to host. Sometimes competing with their own kind. ---------- "Ahhh!" a shriek woke up his partners and broke him out of his reading session. A blurry figure materialised at the top of the slide. Acting as if it had been burnt. Moments later it became clear enough to say it was a lady. The ghost lady was not very tough; she was far from being a dangerous entity for them. No one showed any surprise at her reaction. The Rekha of salt would deter anything that wasn''t occupying a host. Within reason of course... The ''more salt used'',''patterning'' etc. would make it so much more effective against the entity attacking them. Some Rekhas also acted as a ''maze'' or ''problem'' that a spirit would need to solved before they could be attacked. Her wails were dread-inducing but also oddly comforting. As she spirited herself away they knew she''d either perish or find something to inhabit while she recovered. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Well, that''s rude... She didn''t even offer us a meal after our long trip." Oliver chided the no longer present spectre. He leaned down and check the circle. "Not damaged but we''ll need to restock on salt soon. Our stock won''t last us the trip back and we''ve already picked apart the places on our route."