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Sep. 5th, 2025 07:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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There’s a naked woman in the street.
Gwenny was leaving her martial arts class — she and Neil had agreed that it’s less to learn how to fight as to learn when to fight — and headed to her bus stop when she’d seen her. It’s hard to fucking miss, if she’s honest.
The lady is standing there, utterly still. Her skin is a pale, grayish color. Her hair is in sopping black hanks. Her tits sag flat against her ribs and her belly is soft between the wings her of hips. There’s a streak of blood running up from her navel, up her breast bone, up her throat.
Gwenny swallows hard.
( cut for horror-typical graphic depiction of a dead body )
Nobody else can see her.
That isn’t really a surprise so much as it is a disappointment. Every time Gwenny remembers she can see them and most other people can’t, she’s reminded of how lonely it can be, and how lonely it must be, for the ghosts.
Gwenny tugs her phone out and taps out a text — ghost shit, hang on — and then puts it away again. When she looks back up, though, the ghost is gone.
“Shit,” she mumbles.
“Hhhhhhh…”
Gwenny yelps and spins, flailing away when the ghost hisses so close to her ear. She tries to compose herself — nobody else can see her, so everyone just saw a tween shriek at nothing — and frowns.
“You can’t just scare me like that,” she scolds. The ghost’s eyes flick over her face, and Gwenny almost thinks she can feel how wet they are.
“Hhhhh,” the ghost tries again.
Oh, fuck. She wants to talk, but can’t. She doesn’t have any fucking lips.
Three minutes later, Gwenny’s playing a really bad game of charades with a faceless naked lady in the middle of the street.
“No, egg, I got it,” she says, brow pulled low in focus. The ghost’s hands are cupped between them, but when she says that, they drop again. “I just don’t know what about eggs. You gotta give me more than that.”
[ Gwenny is trying to communicate with a truly horrifying-looking ghost, potentially about something incredibly mundane. If you can see ghosts, you’ll probably catch pretty quick that she means no harm and is just restless and worried about something. If you can’t see ghosts… well, then you’ll definitely see a twelve year old talking to the open air with exasperation and growing impatience XD timed to the afternoon! Feel free to say Gwenny texted your pup or that you stumbled across the scene yourself. Open until this reads otherwise! ]
Gwenny was leaving her martial arts class — she and Neil had agreed that it’s less to learn how to fight as to learn when to fight — and headed to her bus stop when she’d seen her. It’s hard to fucking miss, if she’s honest.
The lady is standing there, utterly still. Her skin is a pale, grayish color. Her hair is in sopping black hanks. Her tits sag flat against her ribs and her belly is soft between the wings her of hips. There’s a streak of blood running up from her navel, up her breast bone, up her throat.
Gwenny swallows hard.
( cut for horror-typical graphic depiction of a dead body )
Nobody else can see her.
That isn’t really a surprise so much as it is a disappointment. Every time Gwenny remembers she can see them and most other people can’t, she’s reminded of how lonely it can be, and how lonely it must be, for the ghosts.
Gwenny tugs her phone out and taps out a text — ghost shit, hang on — and then puts it away again. When she looks back up, though, the ghost is gone.
“Shit,” she mumbles.
“Hhhhhhh…”
Gwenny yelps and spins, flailing away when the ghost hisses so close to her ear. She tries to compose herself — nobody else can see her, so everyone just saw a tween shriek at nothing — and frowns.
“You can’t just scare me like that,” she scolds. The ghost’s eyes flick over her face, and Gwenny almost thinks she can feel how wet they are.
“Hhhhh,” the ghost tries again.
Oh, fuck. She wants to talk, but can’t. She doesn’t have any fucking lips.
Three minutes later, Gwenny’s playing a really bad game of charades with a faceless naked lady in the middle of the street.
“No, egg, I got it,” she says, brow pulled low in focus. The ghost’s hands are cupped between them, but when she says that, they drop again. “I just don’t know what about eggs. You gotta give me more than that.”
[ Gwenny is trying to communicate with a truly horrifying-looking ghost, potentially about something incredibly mundane. If you can see ghosts, you’ll probably catch pretty quick that she means no harm and is just restless and worried about something. If you can’t see ghosts… well, then you’ll definitely see a twelve year old talking to the open air with exasperation and growing impatience XD timed to the afternoon! Feel free to say Gwenny texted your pup or that you stumbled across the scene yourself. Open until this reads otherwise! ]