Soul Music - Thread

'Well, come on there, I know you're here somewhere,' said the corpse. It sat up.

Susan was familiar with the idea of ghosts. But she hadn't expected it to be like this. She hadn't expected the ghosts to be the living, but they were merely pale sketches in the air compared to the old man sitting up in bed. He looked solid enough, but a blue glow outlined him.

'One hundred and seven years, eh?' he cackled. 'I expect I had you worried for a while there. Where are you?'

'Er, HERE,' said Susan.

'Female, eh?' said the old man. 'Well, well, well.'

He slid off the bed, spectral nightshirt flapping, and was suddenly pulled up short as though he'd reached the end of a chain. This was more or less the case; a thin line of blue light still tethered him to his late habitation.

The Death of Rats jumped up and down on the pillow, making urgent slashing movements with its scythe.

'Oh, sorry,' said Susan, and sliced. The blue line snapped with a high-pitched, crystalline twang.

***

Soul Music - p65