《The GhostSeer [Jan 2025 RRCM]》


 Chapter 1 : Beginning

    The tavern was a cacophony of jeers and laughter as patrons roared their approval at the song that had just finished playing. Niram slammed his almost emptied tankard on the counter table, the little liquid remaining inside sloshing and jostling about.


    He stood up, pushing through the tightly packed room as he made his way to the door. He received multiple insults and pushbacks, but he didn''t pay them much attention; those people only had to see his face to immediately freeze up and move away.


    Finally, Niram left the candle-lit tavern and stepped out into the dark streets of Carosh. He looked at the sky; it was a full moon, and the little bit of silver streams that managed to get past the tightly packed houses in this dump of a town shone down on his path. However, he didn''t need it. Niram was a Ghost seer, which made him able to see in the night as well as the day. He staggered and stepped on a puddle of rainwater which was probably mixed with piss and shit. Looking down on his reflection¡ªthe bone-white skin and his light blue, glowing eyes¡ªNiram went back to the day he''d become a Ghost seer.


    The town of Hearshe¡ª a rural community in the Kingdom of Seilon far in the east ¡ª had been built close to a massive war graveyard. Apparently, the founding families had been people, mostly widows and mourning mothers, who couldn''t seem to let go of their losses, so they''d come up with the idea to build a town close to their dead loved ones.


    Niram spat to the side, his dim glowing eyes glancing at a man leaning on the wall of another building. The man only had to take in his eyes before he scampered off, probably to go find an easy prey to rub.


    Niram had grown up playing in that graveyard. His mother was mostly absent, she was either in a tavern by the roadside getting stupidly fucked by whoever had a copper decari. And if she wasn''t getting fucked, she was probably fucking her brains with all the manos leaves she was sniffing. The only time she ever paid attention to Niram was either to rant about his deadbeat father or beat him senselessly for asking her for money.


    The graveyard had been Niram''s safe place, alongside the other children whose parents were either dead or deadbeats. They''d play hide and seek from morning to evening, and after that, they''d come up with multiple schemes to rob some unsuspecting passerby.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    That regretful night, Niram and Kiesh, his best friend, had forsaken their usual routine to go play in the graveyard. They''d always heard stories about voices coming from the graveyard at night, but since they had very intimate knowledge of the place and hadn''t heard anything themselves, they chose not to believe.


    Niram and Kiesh had run into the graveyard¡ªa place of tall trees with expansive crowns that fortunately shrouded the place from the wrathful afternoon sun¡ªlaughing and making all sorts of noises. That had gone on well until they''d come face to face with something they hadn''t been expecting to see. A ghost. The thing had not looked like how they''d envisioned ghosts to be. It had been, of course, transparent and floating a few inches off the ground. But that wasn''t what scared them. The wolfish face and the scythe-like daggers hanging from its mouth and long limbs had been what had made them scramble back in terror.


    Kiesh did not make it out alive that night, his insides had been inverted as the wolf ghost tore into him with wild abandon. Kiesh had been, unfortunately, enough for the ghost as it didn''t bother chasing after Niram, and he was forced to hear the pain-filled shriek of his best friend as he ran for the town.


    His adrenaline had lasted until he''d gotten to his home, and within seconds, he was already unconscious. He had woken up the next day to shouts and heavy banging on the door. The first thing he got when he finally opened it was a scream and a heavy ringing sound in his ear as a heavy slap landed on him. It wasn''t until he''d seen himself on one of the rare glass windows that he finally knew he''d been changed; but by then, there was nothing to be done. He was already dead.


    Nobody had believed him when he''d described the thing they''d encountered. Looking back, he''d found it ironic how much the people raged for a boy they actively ignored when he''d been alive and begging for scraps on the streets. The only person who had believed him was Carin, and he was thankful for that. Otherwise, he''d have been nothing but ashes and bones by the next morning.


    He''d fled the town shortly after that, running as far as he could with his twelve year old legs. He wasn''t aware of where he''d been fleeing until he''d found himself back in the graveyards. And then he had to choose: death by wolf spirit or death by fire? Well, both were sure to make a human scream their throats raw, so he''d simply picked the graveyard. After all, the wolf spirit was probably on the other side of the graveyard, never to encounter Niram as long as he was careful.


    Well, careful lasted no longer than a minute before he was frightened out of his skin as a voice pssed at him. Turning back had brought him face to face with his dead best friend, Kiesh.

 Chapter 2 : Sisi

    Niram sighed as he turned around. "What are you doing out here, Sisi?" And out of the silvery-lit night came the figure of a child.


    Sisi had been a seven-year-old girl when she''d been murdered. She and her family had been fleeing the war to the east when they''d been unfortunate to come across bandits in the woods a few miles from here. That was about fifty-something years ago, as was told by the victim herself.


    "I was bored," she grumbled. "And you? What are you doing in human town?"


    "I am human, Sisi," Niram replied with a smile.


    "Not looking like that, you''re not."


    "What?"


    "Nothing!"


    There were different kinds of Ghosts. Most of them preferred the unnatural cold embrace of the graveyard to that of a human town, but there were some outliers who were mostly curious to see what a human-populated community looked like. The wayward ones were always carrying out one kind of mischief after another, scaring some unfortunate human out of their houses. And then there were those who were simply curious, having forgotten their human lives as the years went by. It was the former that usually gave the ghosts a bad reputation. That was why Niram''s kind was always in demand. They could see and speak to ghosts.


    Sighing, Niram bent down, going low so he could come face to face with her. "Sisi, you know you can''t be out here? It''s dangerous for you."


    "Why?" She cocked her head in confusion.


    "Be..." He hated having to say this. "Because, the humans are afraid of your kind. They don''t want you in their homes or anywhere near them."


    "But they can''t see me, right?" she said and then waved at a sober man passing by with a passed-out drunk lady in his arms. "See? They can''t see me. How would they know I was there?"If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Niram ignored the scared look the man sent his way, focusing on the ghost girl In front of him. "Some humans can... Some humans like me, and not all of them are nice to the ghost people."


    "Listen to him, Sisi," Kiesh said, flowing out of the locket hanging over Niram''s chest. "Humans can be cruel, especially to things they don''t understand." He lowered his voice, even though nobody could hear him. "They could hire a ghost seer to banish you back to your place of rebirth."


    Sisi gasped, eyes widening. She looked around and then shuffled closer to Niram. "You''ll protect me, right? Niram. The humans fear you."


    He smiled, patting her white glowing hair. "Let me let you in on a secret," he lowered his voice down to a whisper. "I''m not as powerful as the humans think I am. I can''t do any of the things they say all ghost seers can. But don''t worry, I''ll still protect you, okay?"


    "Okay." She giggled.


    "Let''s get back to the yard." He said and the little girl immediately agreed.


    Ever since he became a Ghost seer seven years ago, Niram had heard so many absurd rumors about his kind that he struggled to comprehend how those came about. Though, recently, he''d come to think some of those rumors were the work of some mischievous GhostSeer with a knack for scaring humans.


    Mothers were fond of scaring their children into doing the right thing by whispering to them that a ghost seer was going to send them to ghost land if they were bad. That was a lie! Niram didn''t have that kind of power. He sighed to himself as he remembered one a few months back. A child had boldly run up to him, asking him whether he could summon ghost soldiers to beat up his abusive father. Niram hadn''t had such at his beck and call, but he''d known two Mischiefs who were eager for a haunt.


    Last he''d heard, before he''d left the town, was that the man had bought his eye swollen wife a nice dress and a bouquet, alongside a bag of toys for his son.


    "Keish, what other mission do we have remaining?"


    Keish manifested a glowing paper on his hands, a pen appearing an instant later as he began ticking off the list. "We''ve cleared the one at the healer''s home, the one in the church basement, and also the mischief you scared off in that tavern." He stopped. "And now we have only one remaining. The haunted house behind the butcher''s shop."


    "You think it''s a mischief?" Niram asked.


    "Nahhh, this one''s different. I don''t know why, but I just know it."


    Niram nodded. "Okay, we''ll take Sisi to the graveyard first and then make our way there."


    "I want to come with," the young girl said as she skipped alongside Niram.


    "No, Sisi," Keish said. "This one is probably going to be dangerous, we don''t know yet. But," he said as he saw the downturn look on her face. "We''ll take you to go catch some mischiefs after we''re done with this, alright?"


    A big smile immediately erupted on the girl''s face. "Okay."

 Chapter 3 : Simbi And Yemir

    "Oh, you stubborn, stubborn girl! How many times have I told you not to go into the human town?!" Mama Simbi cried out just as Niram, Kiesh, and Sisi stepped into the graveyard.


    The graveyard was located a short distance away on the east side of the town. This one was just like the other ones he''d been to. Unkempt and dilapidated. Most of the gravestones had already been shattered by the passage of time while the newer graves lacked any sign of identification, probably because most of the towners were too drunk and broke to care about their dead. The most they could do was stick a wood-crafted X over the graves, a sign that they wanted the dead as far away from them as possible.


    "Leave the little girl alone, Simbi!" Papa Yemir walked over, his walking stick silent as it clucked on the rock-filled ground. "Stop acting like you weren''t the same when you were still a newling!"


    Like Mama Simbi, who had been a youthful woman when she''d died in her sleep, papa Yemir had also been youthful when he''d been killed in a riot. The old ghost woman had a wrapper covering the lower part of her ghostly form while a simple top covered her upper body. She wore a long scarf which was beginning to get loose on the side.


    Papa Yemir, however, was putting on a simple garment, which Niram somewhat wished he was also wearing. Despite his tendencies for mischievousness at times¡ªespecially when it came to Simbi¡ªthe man was a simple, straightforward person. No one knew this, except probably Kiesh, but Niram secretly admired the man.


    The aged woman shot Yemir a glare. "The way you talk sometimes, Yemir, makes me think that you''ll one day join the mischiefs on their wayward stunts."


    Yemir gave a wicked smile. "Why, the pot is calling the kettle black."


    Niram''s eye snapped toward Simbi just as she turned her face away in a flash of embarrassment. "Don''t listen to him, dear," she patted Niram''s cheek, and he forced himself not to shiver at the unnatural freezing touch. "His mind is already old and lost to time, he doesn''t know what he''s saying."


    "Aye, I agree. My mind is somewhat lost to time," Yemir smiled at the triumphant look blooming on Simbi''s face. "But I ain''t old enough to forget when you used to run around the human town, haunting everything that came your way." He turned to Niram. "She even haunted a chicken once, can you believe? A chicken! Sent it running straight for the road, where its life unfortunately ended under the wooden tires of a speeding cart." He smiled. "You should''ve seen the joyful look on her face after it happe¡ª"


    "That''s enough, Yemir!" Simbi snapped. "That was a long time ago! I''ve changed!"


    Yemir shrugged. "If you say so..."


    "Papa Yemir?" Sisi looked up with a wide excited look on her face. "Can you tell me more about what Mama Simbi did when she was still a newling?"


    The man in question gave her a wide smile. "Of course, little one," he agreed, ignoring the warning glare from Simbi. "But you''ll have to promise us not to venture into the human lands again, okay?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Excited, the little girl didn''t fuss and simply nodded.


    "Okay, back when Simbi was little, like you, but not, not like you ..." Niram didn''t stay to hear the story, whispering goodbye to the two elders before he and Keish made their way back.


    "I can''t believe Mama Simbi was that wayward when she was young." He snickered.


    "Oh, you don''t know the half of it!" Keish laughed. "Did you know that most of the old ones were once mischiefs?"


    "No," Niram shook his head. He waved at a group of ghost children who were running around the burial ground of an old ghost who kept shrieking at them to stop. But of course, they refused to listen until Niram had to call them off.


    "Thank you, Niram!" Mama Ayor waved at him as he left. "I owe you a chicken soup when you come back!"


    Niram smiled back.


    "So, as I was saying," Kiesh continued. "Mama Simbi was always into one kind of mischief after another when she was young. Understand, I heard this from Papa Yemir. I don''t want to get into that woman''s bad books. Anyway, Mama Simbi was once known as the greatest mischief to have ever walked this graveyard. Did you know that she once haunted a count''s heir as he visited the town?"


    "No way!" Niram turned towards Kiesh as the walked into the town. He ignored the scary looks the passers-by gave him at his outburst.


    "Yes, way!" Kiesh laughed. "So, get this. The count''s heir visited the town and decided to stay overnight at an inn that was once standing opposite farmer Olam''s house¡ªthe place where those newcomers who just moved in are building their abattoir.


    "So, this count''s son sleeps overnight and, maybe he was feeling lonely ¡ªI don''t know¡ª decides to carry an escort from the tavern below. They were at it in the middle of the night, as I heard from Papa Yemir. And then Mama Simbi moves behind the heir, and with as loud a voice as she could muster, enough not to alert anyone other than the busy two, she screams."


    "What?!" Niram shouted and didn''t look as he stumped his foot on a rock. He laughed it off, as the story Keish was telling was better than some prickling pain. "She did not!"


    "Oh, yes she did!" Kiesh said. "Funnier though, was that the heir had been betrothed to the daughter of a duke."


    "Impossible!"


    "Ohh, definitely possible, Nir. She chased them running naked and screaming out of their room and down onto the street. When all was settled, the two were shocked to discover that nobody heard the sound of any ghost, it was just the two of them, running and screaming like mad people."


    "What happened after?" Niram asked.


    Kiesh shrugged. "I don''t know, that was how long Yemir went before Mama Simbi chased him off with his walking stick."


    Niram chuckled at the imagination.


    They turned another corner in silence, listening to the distant revelry of those in the taverns. Eventually, they came to the front door of a house standing behind the butcher''s shop. It was a three-story building, one of the oldest and largest houses in the town. Niram reckoned the house was probably close to four hundred years old, judging by its ancient architectural designs and the bent look it had. It was probably not going to last another decade.


    For as long as Niram had been in the area, this house had always been rumored to be haunted. People had whispered that they''d heard noises coming from it at night. And some had even sworn to have seen a ghost or two look down at them from one of the windows. But those were things the people knew but actively ignored.


    Now, however, something was seriously wrong with the place. The other day¡ªthe reason he''d been hired ¡ª a group of homeless children who had rushed into the place to take cover from the rain had encountered something that had left them scream for hours until they''d immediately quieted. The next morning had seen a dozen people gathered in front of the place with touches on their hands. Their intention to burn down the place had been stopped when they''d realized how close the other houses were and how quickly a fire could spread.


    Resigned, they hired a ghost seer ¡ª Niram¡ª to take a look at the place and banish the thing hiding inside. Well, here he was.


    "You ready?" Keish whispered.


    "Sure," Niram answered, and then turned over the doorknob.

 Chapter 4 : Myckie!

    The long hallway was dark and misty cold as they stepped inside. However, Niram didn''t mind, since he was already somewhat used to the unnatural freezing presence of the ghosts.


    "Ohhh, scary..." Kiesh visibly shivered, his ghostly white form rippling from head to toe.


    Niram glanced at him. "You''re a ghost, you''re not supposed to be scared of the dark."


    "Hey! Ghosts do get scared sometimes, we just don''t... Like showing it."


    Niram only grunted as he took in the long hallway. The walls were broken and had wickedly long marks that made Niram wish he didn''t encounter whatever did that. The candle holders which hung on both sides of the hall were mostly rusted and broken. Some had even fallen to the ground.


    The floorboards creaked loudly as Niram stepped further inside, and he froze in fear.


    "Why, wake the whole neighborhood, would you." Keish shot him a glare.


    "It''s not my fault these things haven''t seen any form of repair in like... a hundred years." Niram retorted, which made Kiesh turn back to him with an obvious comeback... A comeback which was halted as they were both jolted upwards by a loud, shrill laugh.


    Niram and Kiesh once again looked at each other, this time with a knowing look. "Myckie," They both echoed, and then quickly began making their way inwards, now ignoring the squeaking floorboards.


    "Myckie! You''d better come down here right now, or you''ll be in big trouble when I find you!" Niram shouted.


    "You can''t catch me!" Another voice replied, a shrill laugh coming out a second later.


    Niram stopped as an open door to their left slammed shut. He looked at Kiesh with a knowing look, getting a vehement head shake as reply.


    "Myckie! Can you hear me?! Myckie!! Come down, Maryhann is down here!" He gestured at Kiesh. "Look, she''s calling to you right now!"


    Kiesh Instantly turned with a wide, frightened look. He shook his head. "Please don''t make me do this, Nir."


    "You have too," Niram whispered back.


    "Please."


    Niram shot him a glare, which resulted in another back and forth until Keish, resigned, shot him one last glare before he raised his face to the ceiling.


    "Oh, dear Myckie! My sweet, sweet Myckie." His voice wasn''t the same male tone as before, instead, it came out as that of a young woman. "Oh, how the times have passed! But I''m here now, you hear me? I''m here for you! Please come down."


    There was a second of silence, and then a reply came down. "Is that you, my Maryhann?!"


    "Yes, it''s me, goddammit!"Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What?!"


    Niram shot Kiesh a glare, to which the ghost ignored, coughing and then modulating his voice back into that of a woman. "Yes, it''s me, my sweet moon pie! I''ve returned back to you. Will you come down? For me?"


    Another brief silence. And then. "Okay."


    Instantly, an old, patchy-looking man materialized in front of them, phasing through the ceiling. Niram didn''t waste his chance, his hands stretched forth so fast it caught the man before he even thought of fleeing. But it didn''t matter, seeing as the man didn''t attempt to run. Instead, he began looking around, his head eagerly snapping from one location to another.


    "Where are you, Maryhann?!" He called. "Sweet Maryhann, where are you?! Are we playing hide and seek again?! You know I eventually always find you, right?"


    Niram grimaced. He hated having to do this, but sometimes it was easy to blame the man for always falling for the same tricks over and over again.


    "Maryhann isn''t here, Myckie," Niram said with a gentle voice. "She''s gone."


    "What? Why? Where?!" The man then became agitated, pushing against Niram''s grip until he was forced to manifest a glowing blue rope to tightly restrain him. After that, he tied it to himself, rolling it around his waist. "Where did my Maryhann go?!" Myckie cried.


    "She went far away to another graveyard, Myckie," Kiesh said.


    "What? Why?!" Myckie cried out, pushing against his restraint. "Why? Maryhann wouldn''t leave me!"


    Niram took his face away. He hated having to tell the man the bad news, that was why he always left the explanation to Kiesh. "She left to get away from you, Myckie." Niram flinched as Myckie snapped his head towards Kiesh with confused eyes.


    "Why?"


    Gently, Kiesh continued. "She couldn''t watch you suffer any longer, Myckie."


    A look of indignation crossed the man''s face. "I''m not suffering!"


    "Look at you, Myckie," Niram interrupted, despite the urging need to stay quiet. "You''re deteriorating... Faster than the other old ones at the graveyard. And soon," he took a deep breath; this wasn''t easy. "Soon you''ll vanish... forever... Into the underworld."


    Fear swept through the indignant look on the man''s face. "No!" He shook his head. "I don''t want to go to the underworld! Please don''t make me go, Niram! I promise I''ll be good from now on!"


    Niram sighed. "You promised me the same last time. You know you can''t keep coming back here, Myckie? Humans don''t like ghosts returning to where they died. And besides, the underworld is not so bad."


    The man continued shaking his head. "Please Niram! Please don''t make me go there! It''s all dark and gloomy and cold!"


    "You know you''ll eventually end up there when your time in the physical world runs out? Why don''t you make a headstart so you can build up a house for Maryhann."


    "Really?" The man looked up at him with hopeful eyes.


    Niram grimaced but pushed through it. This had to be done. "Yeah, Maryhann will soon be there with you, and you know she''ll need somewhere to live. What better place than in a mansion with her sweet, sweet Myckie?"


    Myckie nodded. "I understand." He looked up at Niram with ghostly tears streaming down his eyes. "I don''t want to go to the underworld, but for Maryhann? I''ll do it!" He finished with a look of resolve on his face.


    Niram placed a hand on the man''s shoulders. "I''m proud of you Myckie. Despite what everyone says, you''re still the best mischief in this graveyard. Don''t let some old woman steal your thunder."


    Myckie barked a huge laugh, the first genuine one Niram had seen from him in years. And then in a blink, he vanished.


    Niram stared at the spot Myckie had just occupied with sadness.


    "It had to be done," Keish said beside him.


    "I know," he replied. "Doesn''t mean I don''t like it though."


    They were just about to turn back to the door when another shrill laugh erupted, this one dark and deeply menacing.


    A shadow emerged from behind the staircase leading up. As it came fully into the passage and the moon-streaked light from a broken window shone down on it, Niram saw that this thing wasn''t just cloaked by the natural shadow; it was shadow made manifest.


    Its height was so tall it almost scrapped the eleven-foot tall ceiling. There was a shadowy hood covering its face and behind that were two dark red, glowing orbs. Its raspy voice came forth then, just as it raised its talon-like claws in a beckoning gesture.


    "I hunger." Its voice echoed deeply into the whole house. "Come to me, feast!"

 Chapter 5 : Terrors

    "Do we run now?" Kiesh floated backward.


    "Yes," Niram replied. "Yes we do."


    Niram hadn''t even finished when Kiesh blitzed off, his ghostly form so fast it left a trail of blue light behind. Niram didn''t slack off, too, picking up speed as he sensed the strange ghost approaching.


    "Do not run, I''ll only take a pound of flesh." It rasped again, its voice sending shivers down Niram''s spine. No way was he going to be lunch for some kind of demonic ghost.


    They made it to the door a few seconds before the ghost caught up. Niram slammed the door shut just as it impacted with a loud thump that shook a cloud of dust off the walls.


    "Come back!!!!"


    Heartbeat thumping so loud he could practically hear it, Niram made sure to put some distance between himself and the house before he slowed down.


    "What. Was. That!" Kiesh shouted, this time forgetting to hide his voice. A scantily dressed woman leaning against a wall nearby shrieked and immediately bolted down the street, screaming, "Ghosssst!!!!!"


    Niram was too tired and scared to caution his best friend, so he simply raised a palm up in a stop gesture. He took a deep breath, and then took another one, before he spoke.


    "I think we need to speak to the old ones."


    "Yeahh." Kiesh nodded. "Do you know anything about what that is?"


    Niram shook his head, shrugging. "No, but I bet it''s a ghost, though."


    Niram hadn''t felt this much terror in years. The last time he''d felt something like this was on the night Kiesh had died and he''d been turned into a GhostSeer.


    He took in the house for a moment, looking through its dark glass windows and scary presence, and then he looked at Kiesh. "Let''s go."


    Together, they both made their way back to the graveyard.


    "Back so soon, Niram?!" Mama Ayor called as they stepped into the graveyard. The look on Niram''s face was answer enough. "That bad, huh?"


    "There''s something seriously wrong with that place."


    "Oh, my boy," the woman walked towards him. "I''ll come with... I want to hear what happened."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The graveyard was colder than usual as Niram walked down its paved path. He didn''t know why, but he somehow felt like a blade was hanging over his head... Something he very much didn''t like.


    His way back was filled with as many greetings and calls as when he''d left. The other ghosts, both old and young, called out to him. Some detected his gloomy mood, while others were probably too oblivious, but they all did notice something was wrong.


    "What brings you back so fast, dear?" Mama Simbi said just as he got close to her burial ground. "Found the mischief haunting that house?"


    Niram nodded. "Myckie."


    The small gathering he''d packed up was suddenly filled with groans and angry mutterings.


    "Said so," Papa Yemir chortled.


    "Ohh, my..." Mama Simbi sighed. "Where''s that delinquent?!" She raised the ghostly cooking spoon in her hands. "He needs some good talking too!" She cried out, with a chorus of agreement coming from the gathered crowd.


    "He''s gone," Kiesh said.


    The whole crowd stilled.


    "What?" Mama Ayor said, realization dawning in her eyes.


    "He''s gone," Kiesh repeated. "To the underworld."


    "I wonder how you both convinced him to do that; maybe you can convince Simbi here," Yemir muttered, earning himself a tap on the shoulder from Simbi''s cooking spoon. "Owe! What was that for?!"


    "For being insensitive," Mama Simbi glared at him. She looked at Niram seeing his sad look and the reluctance there. "We won''t ask how you did it, okay?"


    Niram nodded, relief running down his spine.


    "But that''s not all, is it?" The woman stepped closer. She took Niram''s downturn face in her hands, raising it to meet her eyes. "What happened, Niram?"


    "There was something else in the house," he answered. "Something dark."


    "A giant thing with red eyes and a cloak made of shadows," Kiesh added.


    The moment he said that, the whole gathering froze, and the atmosphere turned freezing, more than usual, to the fact that the ghostly children playing in the distance quieted, instantly sensing the mood of the elders.


    Mama Ayor looked at the crowds gathered, raising her voice. "Any ghost who isn''t more than five hundred years old should clear this area, Now!" Her voice was firm and unbroken, far more commanding than was usually heard. And with a few groans and murmurs, over ninety percent of the group gathered began moving away, making their way back to what they''d been doing.


    When the area was finally cleared with only about five old ones remaining, Mama Ayor turned back to Niram. "Tell us what happened, dear. Tell us everything."


    Niram nodded and then began the tale of how they''d gotten to that point. He told of the children, how they''d taken shelter in the house and how they''d gone missing the next day, and how screams had been heard throughout the night. He told of Myckie and how they''d found him haunting the house once again, and reluctantly, with a few deep gulps of air, he told of how they''d gotten the ancient man to finally give up and head to the underworld. Finally, he got to the place where the strange thing had come out from behind the staircase. He told of the thing, the unnatural feeling of menace that seemed to follow it as it moved, and the cloud of shadows that seemed to undulate at its feet like a disrupted liquid body.


    When he was done, the gathered elders were silent. They all wore looks of fear and terror, and one other thing: recognition.


    "You know what this thing is, don''t you?" Kiesh said. And It wasn''t a question.


    Papa Yemir, who for once took on a serious expression, was the first person to speak. "They''re called Terrors, and they''re bad for everyone, ghosts and humans alike."

 Chapter 6: Papa Chuqs & Mama Allie

    "What are terrors?" Niram asked.


    Papa Chuqs sighed. He was a portly man with a few hairs that were had been slicked backwards. Taking him fully, one would have mistaken him for a noble or something, which was correct, because Chuqs had been one when he''d been alive.


    Having been a visiting noble who''d been unfortunate to die in this town, about six or seven hundred years ago, the man''s body hadn''t been lucky to survive the ordeal of his death, which had then led to his ghost been stuck in this place.


    Usually, it took ghosts a few hundred years or so before they could be able to escape their place or death and move to other graveyards in more likeable locations. So by the time the man had gotten over his former status and began treating everyone with respect, he''d grown attached to the place to simply up and leave.


    "You know how there are different types of Ghosts?" The man said, and when Niram and Kiesh nodded, he continued. "We have the normals, like the ones gathered here. We also have the Mischiefs, a little like us but with a few loose screws in their ghostly brains." He looked around, getting a few nods from the others gathered around. "And then we have the terrors.


    "Terrors are people who had lived on the bad side of civilization when they''d been alive. Serial killers, murderers, thieves, bandits, and so on. You get what I mean? The difference between them and the murderers living among us is that they died the same way they lived."


    "They were all killed," Kiesh concluded.


    "Yes," Mama Allie said. She was just like Mama Simbi, a motherly-looking woman who had been a trader when she''d been alive. She''d been unfortunate to have gotten robbed by a violent man who had no qualms with murdering alongside robbery. "You need to understand that all terrors died a very violent death. No peaceful death in the bed or death as simple as falling and breaking a neck. They all either died by the guillotine or were killed by their kind. I know of one who was burned alive while in a bowl of flesh-peeling acid." She sighed. "Things like that are sure to follow someone, even into the afterlife, twisting them into something more unnatural, even to people like us."


    "I guess we can''t simply persuade it to go to the underworld, then," Kiesh said, which made Papa Yemir snort with a barking laugh. "How do we end it, then?"


    "You can always kill it the same way it died." Yemir shrugged, which made Niram frown.


    "Is that possible? I mean, I didn''t know ghosts could be killed."


    "We cannot be killed because we''re already dead," Mama Simbi smiled. "But the same thing that made the terrors more powerful beyond the normal also made a hole in their immortality. While we can''t be killed, they can. You just have to find out how they died."


    "If we''re invulnerable, why did you say they were also bad for ghosts." Kiesh looked at Papa Yemir.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The man sighed. "Because, while we can''t be killed, our essence can be consumed... Our spirit form. And once that happens... Well, there are fates worse than death."


    A ripple seemed to spread throughout the gathering at those words, fear oozing off it.


    "Okay," Niram said. "Kiesh and I will pay a visit to the mayor to take a look at the town''s death log."


    "Good," Mama Simbi nodded. "In the meantime, I''ll see if I can find any ghost willing and able to fight that thing."


    Niram nodded, he didn''t argue against the idea. After all, this was something he knew with certainty he couldn''t do on his own.


    He was just about to leave when something crossed his mind.


    "Hey, why didn''t the terror kill Myckie? They were both in the house together."


    Papa Yemir seemed to grimace. "Myckie was an old soul... A withering one. Prideful predators do not feed on rotten flesh."


    Niram nodded, taking in the unworded context. And together, he and Kiesh made their way to the mayor''s office.


    ***


    "Ahh, Niram! What brings you here so early?!" The mayor, Mr. Olah, smiled as he opened the door to his home, which also served as his office. "You aren''t finished with your tasks, are you?"


    The house was an ancient two-story building ¡ªhalf as old as the haunted house a few blocks over¡ªwhich stood in the center of the town. Unlike its aged sibling, which was all ruins and scant repairs, this one was basically new, in Niram''s opinion ¡ª at least as new as a house could look in a dump like this. The generations of leaders who''d occupied the place since its beginning had taken good care to keep it in good condition, both for themselves and their unlucky descendants.


    The Mayor, Mr. Olah, or as he was popularly called, Mr Merry, from his rare exuberance in this cesspool of misery.


    He was liked by almost everyone, which was surprising given the constant state of wretchedness almost every human in this town seemed to be in. But what truly endeared him to Niram was that he was also the only human who didn''t treat him like he was some sort of terrifying being.


    "I''m not, sir," Niram replied. "I came because there''s a problem with the last place that was listed. The haunted house."


    Seeing Niram''s expression, Mr. Olah''s smile slowly died down, replaced with an expression of worry and fear.


    "Come in, come in," he gestured in, opening the door wider. "Take a seat and tell me everything."


    Niram nodded and then stepped into the coziest abode he''d ever seen in the town. The sitting room was a spacious room cluttered with dozens of books lying all about on the floor and the tables. Two long, brown sofas were sat facing each other, with a single sitter placed just close to the window, just in the middle of the two long sofas. Niram took his seat on one of them, an invisible Kiesh coming to hover just beside him.


    A burning candle sitting right in the middle of a supernatural symbol went off, and Mr. Olah chucked. "I see your ghost friend is still with you?"


    "Hello, Mr. Olah!" Kiesh greeted, projecting his voice loud enough to be heard by the man.


    Mr Olah couldn''t see Kiesh, but he''d probably hazarded a guess as to where the ghost might be located, and then he waved. "Hello, Kiesh! How''re you doing?"


    "I''ll be fine, if I manage to survive our latest problem."


    That brought the man''s mood down again, "Okay, tell me what happened."


    Niram shook his head. "There''s nothing much to know, sir. We encountered some kind of ghost we hadn''t met before...one that''s called a terror. We''ve sought advice from the old ones at the graveyard and they directed us to you to look into the death log of this town."


    The man frowned. "Why?"


    "Apparently, Terrors are created from criminals who died the same way they lived. So, probably executions or any kind of reports you have on notable criminals who were killed gruesomely."


    "And the children?" The man''s piercing black eyes stared into Niram''s blue. "You haven''t said anything about the missing children."


    Niram swallowed. "We don''t know yet. But sir, as it stands, things are looking grim."

 Chapter 7 : Yoseo and Naseil Kens

    Diving into the recorded history of Carosh''s executions proved more interesting than Niram expected. Looking at the logs on the desk in front of him, he never expected to see the kind of stories that were written down here, and probably neither did the elders, else they wouldn''t have sent him down here.


    "Ahh, look here, Nir!" Kiesh called, levitating a book from the pile towards him. "This one''s about Yoseo."


    Intrigued and looking for a bit of bargaining chip for when he next saw the ghost, Niram leaned forward.


    Yoseo Kens, blacksmith and shoe tanner, was found dead on his bedroom floor in the early hours of the morning, before the first crow of the rooster. Due to the disheveled look of the room at the time of discovery, it was concluded that Yoseo Kens was murdered.


    "So that''s why he''s always grumpy," Kiesh muttered, to which he was immediately shushed.


    "Quiet," Niram shushed. "Let''s read the rest."


    Despite the public census being to ignore the event and call it a day¡ªas usual in Carosh¡ªan investigation was carried out nonetheless.


    His wife, Naseil Kens, who at the time of her husband''s death, was away from home at a market in the next town, came home that morning to the body of her husband on the floor of their bedroom, declared the act as "wicked" and swore that "whoever did this to my husband, my dear Yosi, will die a very gruesome death".


    Naseil, when asked about the argument she and Yoseo had been overheard having two days prior to his death, replied that it was a brief couples spat and was settled that night. More investigations carried out revealed that the loving husband hadn''t been as loving as people had thought, having been witnessed a couple of times by neighbors who saw him with a sex worker in his arm, sometimes it both.


    Although the case was never solved, the outcome of Yoseo''s infidelity became a wake-up call for other infidels out there.


    Niram looked up at Kiesh who was visibly struggling to hold back his amusement.


    "Now," he said. "We know why he''s always grumpy."


    "You know it was his wife who killed him, right?" Niram said.


    "Of course, it was his wife!" Kiesh laughed. "Why else would he choose to stay on the opposite side of the graveyard, as far away from her as he could get?!"Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Niram could only shake his head, picking up the open log on the table. "Alright, let''s get back to work."


    The study they were situated in was conveniently how Niram had imagined it to be. Four ceiling-high shelves were placed on the four corners of the room, stacked entirely with different kinds of books, from accounting logs to death logs and even solved and unsolved mysteries that had occured in the town. Looking through some of those unsolved cases, Damien knew for a fact that a majority of them had been committed by mischiefs. Though they were repented now, he knew how often they still boasted about their feats to the ghost kids in the yard.


    Adjusting his sitting position on the wooden chair, Niram began tracing his fingers down the list of executions.


    He knew how time-consuming looking through the entire log would be, and they were pressed for time, so he began by filtering out some and looking through the ones that were carried out on the vilest of criminals.


    He went past a bandit who''d murdered his partner, hacking the other man to death with a rusted machete. This one had been burned on a stake slowly and excruciatingly, a punishment meant for all apprehended bandits. He scrolled through the report of a thief who''d been unfortunate as to end up in the abode of a hunter. Niram frowned at that. What level of stupidity would require one to try their hands on the property of a hunter? Shaking his head, he continued.


    For the next hours, Niram and Kiesh went through an extremely long list of names, pouring through logs and events of some of the most heinous crimes committed in Carosh. At the second hour mark, Niram was already beginning to get frustrated with their inability to find anything resembling what they wanted.


    "The robber who got mauled to death by the farmer''s dog?" Kiesh suggested.


    "No," Niram shook his head.


    "The eye stealer?" Kiesh said again, suggesting a serial killer who''d, at one point, had terrorized the town thirty years ago. She''d been caught in a failed attempt at plucking out the eyeballs of her live victim. Apparently, the victim hadn''t been as deeply unconscious as she''d thought. Her execution had been in the form of a full-body acid bath.


    "No," Niram shook his head.


    "Okay," Kiesh said, turning to another page with the aid of telekinesis. "Let¡ª"


    "Hold on," Niram interrupted, an idea forming in his mind. "The grandfather building is older than any of the buildings in town."


    "Yes," Kiesh answered, even though Niram hadn''t phrased it as a question.


    "A building as old as that must have had lots of stories told about it..."


    "Yes..." Kiesh looked at Niram with confusion. "Where are you going with this, Nir?"


    But by then, Niram was already beating himself up for not figuring it out early. "I can''t believe we didn''t think of this earlier!"


    "Niram, what?"


    "The house, Ki, the house..." Niram turned toward his best friend. "The terror must have died there; and surely, something like that would have been written down."


    "You don''t know that," Kiesh said.


    Niram rewarded him with a raised eyebrow. "A town that has enough time to investigate the murder case of an unfaithful husband... You''re suggesting they''ll ignore a murder case in their very own relic building, especially one as haunted as this?"


    "... Good point."


    Niram sighed. "We need to speak to the mayor, again."

 Chapter 8 : The Night terrors

    "Yes," Mayor Olah said. "There''s been lots of deaths in the grandfather house. Why?"


    "We think that what we''ve been searching wasn''t in the executions log all along, but in whatever report book was kept about the grandfather house," Niram answered.


    The man was quiet for a while, taking on a contemplative look. "You''re lucky it''s that one. Though you might have much to search through, I''m pretty hopeful you''ll find your answers there."


    He then stood up, making his way into a small hallway down the corner, "come with me."


    Niram shared a glance with Kiesh before he shrugged and followed the man.


    Mayor Olah led them down two closed doors, before he came out into the other end of the hallway, turning towards a spiralling stairs leading upward.


    It took them a minute to reach the top floor of the house, coming out into another hallway. And this time, Mr. Olah didn''t lead them further in, stopping at the first closed door to their right.


    Mr. Olah opened the door to a room¡ªprobably his. A bed was shifted against the middle wall, as expected. A huge wardrobe was placed on the left side of the room, opposite the large double windows. A wooden cabinet was then positioned under the window, and it was there that Mr. Olah walked up to, picking up a little book from the cabinet''s top.


    "This is a journal kept by my father, who inherited it from his father, and likewise." Mr. Olah began, and then he looked up, a smile quirking his lips. "Don''t look so reverent, there''s nothing special about it. This is simply their personal accounting of the grandfather building during their rule."


    "How many generations does it go?" Niram asked, looking at the worn-down leather held together by some kind of adhesive substance.


    The middle-aged man shrugged. "This started with my great grandfather... So about a hundred years plus, give or take."


    He moved towards a corner of the room, drawing a chair Niram hadn''t taken notice of in his initial observation.


    "Take a seat," he invited. "Although this isn''t as old as the logs in the study, it should, hopefully, be old enough to cover what you need."


    Niram drew a second chair, taking his seat. "I don''t want to go as far as I did with the logs, so let''s start small this time."


    "How does a decade sound?" Olah suggested, unwrapping the strap. "Those are my accounting, which are really sparse."


    Niram shrugged.


    "Fine by me," he said. "What can you remember?"


    The man rested his back comfortably on the soft backrest.


    "This should take a while, or not," he sighed. "There are two events in my time that took place in the grandfather building. Both were before you arrived."


    He cleared his throat.


    "The first one took place about nine years ago, when a gang of thieves terrorized the town during the night, robbing almost every home in town. Mine wasn''t spared. By morning, the only things left were the wailing of the victims¡ª a few broken bones here and there from those who''d refused to part with their properties¡ªbut no murders were ever committed. They were professional, never overstretching past the valuables they could carry and never touching any of the lasses. They took what they came for and vanished into smoke by morning.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The people took it very lightly at the beginning, but when more and more of them began dipping into savings meant for winter, they all began clamoring for a response."


    The man stood up and moved towards a small square table at the edge of his bed, taking up a pitcher and two glasses out of the four. Niram stood up to assist but was told, in no vague way, to sit back down.


    "I might be old," the man said. "But I''m not decrepit."


    Knowing how old men could be touchy about their fragility, Niram sat back down.


    Mr. Olah moved back to his chair, handing the two cups over to Niram, after which he began pouring into them.


    "I''d bring one for you, Kiesh," the man said. "But I don''t think you can drink this... Or can you?"


    "Bleghhhh!" Kiesh said, projecting his voice for the man to hear. "No, thank you."


    Mr. Olah shrugged. "Said so."


    Done with both glasses, the man took his while he gently placed the pitcher on the floor. Niram squinted at the liquid sloshing inside his own cup. He might be an adept drinker, but even he knew when it wasn''t appropriate to drink. This was such a time.


    "Drink up, it''s just water," the old man laughed, having deciphered Niram''s expression.


    "As I was saying," he continued. "A few select people and I planned the whole endeavor. My house was to be used as bait. You ask why? Who wouldn''t want to rob a mayor''s home?" He chuckled.


    Damien took a little sip of the liquid, expecting something alcoholic despite the man saying otherwise. His lips widened into a little smile as he took in the refreshing taste of water.


    "Not long after the planning, my home was robbed," the man went on. "Despite the hidden people in the room outnumbering them, we didn''t move to apprehend them. Instead, a few able-bodied men and I tailed them back to their hideout, which should have been, unsurprisingly, the grandfather building.


    He smiled grimly. "What we did to them is something I still have nightmares about till this day."


    This time, Niram sat up, interest heightened.


    "What?" He urged.


    Slowly, the man placed his half-finished cup on the floor and then sat back upright. His fingers Interlocked and he took on a grim look with a touch of what Niram instantly recognized as shame.


    "Their hideout was in a sectioned-off room in the basement of the house. A meat storage room. There wasn''t a window or anywhere else out of the room, except the single entrance in which they used.


    So, instead of apprehending and publicly punishing them, a majority of us voted instead for trapping them inside the room. And so we did that.


    While the thieves had been professional during their nightly activities, it wasn''t the same when they got back to their hideout.


    While they were drunk off probably stolen alcohol, we closed in the steel door, locking it from the outside."


    The man sighed.


    "For the next few days afterward, people two houses over could hear the screams coming from the basement. The pleadings, the beggings, the promises, and even the threats."


    "What happened after?" Kiesh said, voice subdued.


    Mr. Olah shook his head. "We don''t know. We stopped hearing their voices after the fifth day and we didn''t check. None of us were brave enough to, so we forced our minds off it."


    Niram waited a while for the man to continue, and when he didn''t, he frowned. "Wait, that''s it?"


    Mr. Olah looked at him. "What did you expect?"


    "I don''t know," Niram shrugged. "Some revelation about what happened after. Didn''t someone take a look? There''s always someone with more curiosity and less brain to rein it in."


    "You''re right," the man nodded. "There was only one other person who went deep into the basement."


    "What happened to him?" Niram leaned closer.


    "We don''t know," the man shook his head. "We never heard from him again. His screams did echo through the street that night, though."


    Niram looked over at Kiesh. "The terror must have eaten them."


    "That''s a probability," Kiesh agreed. "And we''ll table that for the moment. I just realized something: Papa Yemir said that terrors were bad for both ghosts and humans, but Myckie had been haunting that house for weeks before we chased him away. How is it he wasn''t eaten or consumed, as Papa Yemir said?"