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datawyrms · 2 years ago

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Flightless Dead

Everyone is born with wings unique to them, a reflection of themselves. But that means the wings all have one thing in common - they disappear when a person dies. For Phic Phight 2023 c: Also on Ao3!

If she had been flying, there was a chance Maddie would have missed the slight change of weight. Movement made it easier to miss something so subtle, especially when the braided necklace wasn’t heavy to begin with.

It was strange, to tense up so much. Yet Jack had stiffened as well. She hadn’t dropped a wallet, or mislaid a blaster. Yet today had been distressing, the portal failing completely with almost no lead as to why. Perhaps she was imagining things.

Jack could also just be imagining things. She didn’t want to look down, to open her hand to see the necklace her hand had automatically cupped gently. The store had fallen away as her world centered in on that slight change of weight. The protective material of her gloves was both a blessing and a curse- blocking her ability to feel the feathers to confirm her worries, but also denying her the comfort given by the soft plumage of her family always being partially ‘with’ her.

“Mads-” Jack’s voice cracked, his hands blocking his own family heirloom from her sight. His confident posture was gone, massive wings hunched inwards and doing their best to make the giant of a man look small. He also suspected- feared- prayed he was wrong.

She didn’t want to make him be the one to confirm it. She did not want to be the one to check either. The thin leather strap felt like a blade against her neck as she carefully- so carefully uncurled her fingers to see the feathers that hung from the flock charm. The massive black feather with slight white stippling at the tip, the thicker reddish one right beside. The short red and brown striped one at a funny angle. All fine, all there. The thin and narrow feather, bright orange like a flame was nested between her own and Jack’s. Yet it was wrong. It was alone. The short coal black feather, the sibling, her brother’s, her son-

An empty leather loop instead of the proof of her baby boy’s life.

Being trapped under a boulder would have been an easier weight to bear, the pain and horror that shoved her breath from her lungs in a pained shriek. Misery, a horror she never wanted to see. A pain that didn’t lessen even as Jack pulled in close and both of them tried to block out the rest of the world with their wings, ignoring how others turned to look or stiffened at the awful sound.

Their child had died, feather gone to the beyond with the rest of his wings, and they hadn’t even been nearby. The world should hear of such a cruel, unfair loss.

They’d need to go to Jazz- to hold her and comfort her and to mourn. Her only brother suddenly stolen away, with no reason. That the weight of her whole world had lessened today, in a way that could never be repaired.

Someone was speaking, trying to get their attention, or trying to help, but neither of them really heard it. How could they? When Danny was gone?

—

There was no mistaking how horrible the accident had been- that their playing around in a dangerous laboratory had been the last bad decision one Danny Fenton would ever make. Flat on his back against cold tile, arms and legs twisted and limp. Something that should be impossible, an emptiness that made both Sam and Tucker recoil back. Away from the wingless corpse that was their friend.

“What do we do? What can we do?!” Tucker was already hovering from sheer agitation, clutching at his glasses as if they might be lying to him, like Danny would be himself again if he only removed them.

Sam didn’t have an answer, instead staring in mute horror. Danny shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t be so badly hurt, shouldn’t be dead. It couldn’t be that unsafe here!

The green portal was more like a rocky throat- jagged stones and unwelcoming spikes bristling from what had been flat steel before it had powered itself on and killed Danny. Even if it hadn’t killed him, the claustrophobic walls would have snapped his wing bones in seconds for daring to exist in the same space. Absolutely destroy him. Or maybe the shock of that pain had been what killed him.

They wanted to escape, to flap hard and push past the loose roof panel and pretend the world wasn’t so awful with the wind in their feathers and sun on their backs. To pretend the little flock of three was not suddenly only two. Part of them almost did- but a low, awful noise kept them still.

—

Danny Fenton was not dead.

He hurt- oh man did everything hurt in a way he did not think was even possible, but he managed to keep breathing.

The ache was bad enough without the awful cold that clawed at his back, a weird and unwelcome sensation. Cramps in his back muscles or wings was one thing. The cold emptiness felt worse. He wanted to curl up a little and let his feathers help warm him up, but moving felt impossible. His parents weren’t kidding about their weird ghost portal being dangerous, apparently. What kind of person should actually be afraid of ghosts? They were just sad little dead things- most couldn’t even fly. It was like being afraid of worms.

Sam and Tucker were still here. So they should help instead of leaving him on the ground while he figured out how to make his brain move his limbs again. Stupid portal and it’s dumb painful shock.

His best attempt to talk was just a weak groan, but at least he could see a bit better now. Tucker was flapping so recklessly that black feathers were falling everywhere one even on his face. Normally he’d laugh about it, but he couldn’t manage it.

“Is he a zombie? Did we make my best friend into a zombie?”

Oh ha ha Tucker. Super funny, calling him a zombie because he got a bit of a shock. If only he could get his mouth to actually say that instead of just making some pathetic grunt.

“No- he’s breathing. I think.” Sam’s eyes were watering, her normally confident voice small and uncertain. “I think he’s alive-“

“But he’s-“

“I know! Just get down here and check if you feel his pulse too okay?”

Why wouldn’t they feel it? What were they going on about anyway? Danny tried to move again, really pushed against his stiff muscles but only made the world go dark, a wave of exhaustion shoving his consciousness back down before he could hurt himself further.

Danny Fenton may not be dead- but some might argue it was crueler that he was not. A lost life is a tragedy. A continued one can be a tapestry of tragedy, constantly marked by the loss suffered.

After all, only the dead lack wings.

#Danny Phantom #fic #no idea how many chapters #i need to write more #bleh

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aggressivelyclueless · 6 years ago

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The Lonely Ghost

prompted by @inky-interest "Full ghost Danny AU - his entire family dies in the Portal accident but he is the only one who sticks around FentonWorks to haunt the house. Eventually Sam & Tucker come in, following the rumors of a ghost haunting said house." Words: 6050 Warning: death, very feelsy

"Sam, do you really think this is a good idea?" "Tucker," she sighed, "I told you all about this, remember? One year ago exactly - and we've got a full moon going for us. Our chances are as good as they're going to get." Tucker slumped a little. "Yeah, but it sounded a lot cooler in theory. I'm getting the creeps already just looking at the place." He turned and gave the structure before them a long stare. It had been a house once; the front door lay on the steps, having been blasted off its hinges, and scars from the fire clawed outward from the doorframe and the empty windows. An old corroded sign had been propped up against the bricks by the steps. It had lit up before the tragedy, but after a year of neglect it just read F nt n ork. Sam gave the charred second-story window a glance. "Tucker. That's the point. You think I'd miss the chance to see a real ghost actually manifest? C'mon." Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him up the steps into the ruined house. Most of the floorboards had broken toward the back of the room, and even the first few groaned unhappily as the trespassers made their way inside. A gutted staircase went upwards to the left, the hand railing long gone but one stumpy post of the banister standing in stubborn refusal to quit. The collapsed frame of the living-room sofa sat to the right, covered in ash and dust. The end-table hadn't fared so badly; Sam stepped carefully over to it, minding the weakened floorboards, and coaxed the drawer open with one hand. The other reached out behind her. "Tucker - flashlight?" Tucker pulled one out of his backpack, handing it to Sam and peering over one shoulder. "Is it important?" Sam turned briefly back to him with a shrug. "Does it matter?" She turned the beam down into the opened drawer, rifling through its contents. An old deck of playing cards, one corner of which had burned away to ash; a little silver thing that looked like it might have, at one point, been lipstick; part of an old and disused rat's nest; a fragment of an old Casper High report card. Sam held the little silver thing up and twisted the cap open. "Lime green lipstick? Score." "Sam," said Tucker, "You think that's really sanitary?" "Whether I wear it or not - we're finding cool junk in here already. Wonder if any of this stuff is haunted? C'mon. I'm gonna check upstairs." Tucker hesitated. Why did I agree to go along with this? He didn't like the dark, and he didn't like ghosts; he'd really rather be at home, or at the movies, or anyplace except here. He told himself to remind Sam that she owed him one for this. Sam turned the beam of her flashlight to the staircase. It would be tricky - especially in combat boots - but she thought she could make it up without a problem. She tiptoed carefully up the first few jutting steps, pausing to throw a glance back over her shoulder and make sure Tucker would follow her. He looked like he didn't want to, but stayed behind her anyway. She knew she'd have to make this up to him later; this had been her idea in the first place, after all, and she had a feeling that Tucker might bail later on anyway if things started to get intense. She'd stuffed her backpack with the essentials anyway - ouija board, EVP recorder, infrared camera borrowed courtesy of Tucker's dad - in the hopes that they might have some decent luck. They hadn't lately, and she'd started to wonder if they'd have any at all. She'd agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to give the ghosthunting a break if they didn't find anything tonight. She still had her hopes up, though. The upstairs landing was unsteady at best. She held out one hand to keep Tucker back, crept slowly across until it felt more solid, and then gave him a nod. The beam from her flashlight had landed on the door at the near end of the hall, and she gave Tucker a little grin. "I brought that ouija board. Wanna give it a go? See if we get anything tonight?" Tucker's heart sank, but he nodded anyway. "Sure, Sam." Sam led him slowly into one of the bedrooms. Despite the layer of smoke and ash that had settled over every surface in the room, it was remarkably intact. The queen bed sat in one corner, and the bedside table and dresser shared the space under the window. The door of the closet hung ajar, and just for a second she swore she saw something move inside. Her eyes widened, and she jabbed Tucker with her elbow. "Hey - d'you see that?" "No," he whispered with a shake of his head. Sam crept up to the closet anyway, flashlight trained on the thin line left by the open door. She slowly nudged it open, breath held, and peered inside. She crossed her fingers - please be a ghost please be a ghost please be a ghost - but the closet was vacant. Old clothes lined the sides, and a small pile of shoes had been left in the back corner, but there were no ghosts. Sam let all her breath out in disappointment. "I don't think we should be here," said Tucker. Sam turned to see that he'd taken a seat on the edge of the bed, and he had both hands clamped over each other in his lap. "This place really gives me the creeps. I mean - people died here, Sam. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't want us poking around - " Sam scoffed. "Tucker, listen. Ghosts can't actually hurt people. Besides, we haven't even seen any yet. I know I keep dragging you out on all these ghost hunts, but I swear I'll make it up to you - you know that, right? I always do." "Yeah," said Tucker, "That's kinda the only reason I'm still even here. Just saying." Sam gave him a little smile. "Thanks." Tucker gave her a little smile back. She turned back to the abandoned bedroom, the beam from her flashlight sweeping across walls and furniture alike. A forgotten jewelry display stood on one side of the dresser, and she kept the flashlight on it as she went to investigate; a modest handful of bracelets, a few pendants, and three pairs of earrings sat dully under their cover of ash and dust, and Sam pulled one of the pendants up and examined it. It was a little petunia, studded in the center by a single pink gemstone, and Sam scrubbed at it with the corner of her top to restore any luster that it might once have had. "Tucker - check this out. How cool is that?" Tucker hesitated. "I don't know, Sam - you think the ghosts'll be happy when you go and root through their stuff?" "It's not like they'll ever use it again," Sam shrugged halfheartedly, but set the pendant back anyway. "I'm just admiring it. That's all." Something from the next room over clunked suddenly, making both of them jump. Sam's heart skipped a beat, and the flashlight turned immediately to the wall separating the two rooms. After a moment of silence, she turned back to Tucker; her voice was just the barest whisper. "C'mon." Tucker hated to go and investigate strange noises in abandoned burned-up houses, but he hated even more the thought of standing by himself in an abandoned burned-up house, and he followed Sam back into the hall. The longer they stayed, the worse he felt. Part of him still wanted to bail, but he had a feeling that Sam would take him out for a movie tomorrow - two, if things got really scary - so he stuck with her. The second bedroom was in much worse shape. The bed in the corner was still recognizable, but most of the furniture had been scarred by the fire. The carpet had melted, solidifying afterwards in hard uneven clumps, and the feet of the dresser and bookshelf had sunk an inch into the fibers and been eaten up. About two-thirds of an old stuffed bear sat on the window - it was missing a leg and part of its body, and Sam picked it up and turned it over once in her hands. "I think her name was Jasmine," said Sam with a frown, "Maybe it was Jessamine." "Jasmine," said Tucker vaguely, having occupied himself with any of the titles on the bookshelf that were still readable. Most of them weren't. His foot absently found one on the floor in front of the shelf, and he picked it up. "I think this is what fell." He handed it to her. Sam gave the book a brief inspection. Most of the pages were charred beyond recognition, but part of the front was still readable. Psyc- A Gui- minds of-. The rest of the title had been destroyed. She frowned. "I vaguely remember her from school. Wasn't she a prep?" Tucker shrugged; he and Jasmine had never met. Sam tossed the destroyed book aside, peering briefly through the most-intact portions of the room. The closet was almost completely incinerated; the drywall had crumbled, taking the shelving down with it. All that remained was a pile of ashen debris on the floor, and a couple of drywall screws that jutted out from the support beams as if they might still serve any coherent purpose. Sam stepped gingerly into the space, shining the flashlight for a moment up at the ruined ceiling, but decided against it when the floorboards protested a little too loudly for her comfort. She turned back to Tucker. "You wanna try the last room on the end?" Tucker swallowed. "Not really," he said, following her regardless. Sam tiptoed back out into the hall. The weak spot on the floor was at the top of the staircase, and she skirted around the edge of it as best she could to access the last room at the end. She waved Tucker over when she was done, and turned her attention to the blackened door before them. She meant to push it open, but the frame gave out at the slightest touch; the door teetered for a second and then fell flat, sending up a cloud of ashes and dust and making them both cough. When the dust settled, Sam gasped. The room at the end of the hall had suffered horribly; two ends of the bedframe had collapsed, piling on each other in the middle, and the support beams holding the drywall up had been completely destroyed. The drywall itself had fallen, although it had been burned only partially; most of the bare wooden floorboards had given out, and the remnants of the bedside table and the desk had collapsed downwards. Apart from the bedframe, and the fallen drywall, there was surprisingly little debris. Most of it, Sam guessed, had been incinerated completely. She swept her flashlight across the room, almost breathless. The beam flickered for a moment in the center, and just for a fraction of a second she spotted it: a translucent shadow, standing very clearly in the center of the space. She brought the light back around to fixate on it, but the shadow had vanished. Her breath hitched, and for a long moment she was silent. "Tucker," she mouthed finally, "Did you see that?" Tucker had, most definitely, seen it. He found himself shaking his head anyway, hoping that Sam would be dissuaded and opt to call it a night, but most of him knew better. Sam turned the flashlight about the room again, hoping to catch another glimpse of the anomaly, but found nothing. "That's it," she decided, shoving the flashlight into Tucker's hands and sliding the backpack off her shoulders. "Infra time." "Sam," Tucker protested quietly, "Do we have to - ?" "Yes," Sam hissed through her teeth, "We do. That's why we came out here in the first place, remember?" She pulled the infrared camera out of her backpack, waiting for a moment as it powered up, and then kept her eyes on the screen as she turned slowly about the room. She could see Tucker's outline clearly - he lit up a pleasant red-orange - and could easily make out the few details to the room that remained. Most of it was an easier green-teal, and when the wind swept through the empty windows she could see it swirl in a cooler blue. She turned to where she'd seen the shadow, hoping it was still there. It didn't appear to be, but she could clearly see where it had been standing; two deep purple footprints could be seen on the bare floorboards, their edges already blurring back toward the blue-teal of the surrounding space. "Tucker, take a look at this." Tucker gingerly took the camera from her. He was always extra careful with things that he'd borrowed, especially if they were electronics of any sort, and turned it back to the fading footprints in the center of the room. His gut wrenched. "Sam, I really don't think we should be here - " "What, and miss this? Tucker, we know there's a ghost here now. We're not shooting blind anymore. I bet we could even communicate with it - maybe there's more than one. Maybe all four of them are here - and how are we gonna find out about it if we don't ask?" Tucker was silent. Figures Sam would be really excited about this. He supposed he'd be excited too, if only they'd come in the daylight. Sam carefully plopped down on the floor, and unzipped the top of her backpack again. "You wanna try this ouija thing? I heard about it from Felicity from third-period. You met her once, right?" Tucker hadn't, but nodded anyway. Sam pulled the board out of her backpack and unfolded it so that it lay flat. "She said it works better the more people you have, but seeing as how it's just us two - I'm not sure if we're going to get anything. Worth a shot, though, right? We can always try for an EVP or two later." The knot of dread in Tucker's gut hardened, but he nodded anyway. Sam unzipped the smaller compartment of the backpack, pulling out the little wooden puck that Felicity-from-third-period had lent her along with the board. She turned it over in her hands a few times, noticing the little hole bored through the center, and then placed it down on the board. She gave Tucker an expectant look; he descended onto the floor opposite her. After a moment of hesitation, he reluctantly set his first two fingers on the side of the puck. "Sam, I really don't have a good feeling about this." "I know," said Sam, "Me neither. Tell you what, though - stick with me until the end and I'll take you tomorrow night for a double feature." Tucker weighed the offer in his mind briefly, but then nodded. "Yeah." Sam took a deep breath, turning her attention back to the puck under her fingers. "You think it'll answer?" She had meant it as a somewhat rhetorical question to Tucker, but almost immediately the puck slid anyway: YES. Sam's eyes widened. "Tucker - " "Real funny, Sam," said Tucker, shifting uncomfortably in place. "That wasn't me," she whispered, holding his stare. She glanced for just a second back down at the board, and gave him an excited smile. "I knew we'd be able to communicate." Tucker pulled his hand away and wrapped both his arms around his knees. "I really don't like this - " "Tucker, come on," Sam pressed, "It won't work if we're not both - " The puck slid out from under her fingers, skittering off the board and coming to a halt at the edge of one of the charred floorboards. After a pause, it turned slowly to point at her. Sam was silent, and she gave Tucker a wide-eyed look. After a moment, she slowly reached over to retrieve the puck, careful not to disturb the uneven floorboards more than she had to. She hated to reach out that far - she could feel them tipping slightly under her weight - and she brushed against the puck with her fingers, grabbed it, and pulled it back to the sturdier part where she and Tucker were sitting. She held it for a moment, running one thumb along its edge, and then set it back on the board. Maybe Felicity-from-third-period was wrong, the thought with a little frown. Maybe we don't need to be touching it at all. "I'm gonna try something." "Don't," said Tucker, but made no move to stop her. Sam stared down at the puck, a determined frown on her face, and then asked quietly, "Are you the only spirit here with us tonight?" There was a long silence as nothing happened. Sam was almost about to reach out and touch it again, but the puck slid slowly over: YES. Sam could hardly believe it. After all the places around town they'd swept with Tucker's dad's infra, and all the empty EVP sessions even when they were certain they'd find results, the husk of FentonWorks had been there the whole time. She turned to Tucker. "You wanna ask it anything?" Tucker shook his head. "I wanna go home." Sam turned back down to the board before her. The puck still rested over YES as if it hadn't moved at all. She kept her voice a whisper, but could hardly contain her excitement. "Do you mean us harm?" Again, the puck was still for a moment, but this time it slid faster: I DON'T KNOW. Sam frowned. "You don't know?" She thought to herself for a moment, and almost missed the first movement of the puck as it crawled across the board again. The letters read clearly: THIEF. As if to make a point, it rested on F for a moment before rotating to indicate Sam's backpack. Sam's eyes followed its direction, and she frowned. Remembering the lipstick, she dug it out of the backpack and held it up. Sure enough, the pointing end of the puck followed it like the needle of a compass, and only sat still when she set it down over by the charred doorframe. "Told you you should have left it alone," said Tucker quietly. Sam shot him a look. “Shut up.” She repositioned herself, turned back to the board, and asked: "What's your name, spirit?" The puck was still. Sam stared down expectantly, but even after a minute it hadn't moved. She and Tucker exchanged glances; after a tense silence, she whispered, "You think it's gone?" "No way," Tucker shook his head, "You feel how cold it got all of a sudden?" Sam paused. The infrared camera had been left at Tucker's side, and she grabbed it again. It wasn't just him; the green-teal of the room had shifted to a light blue to indicate the drop in temperature. She turned it about the room once, hoping to locate the mysterious spirit, and found only a fading wisp of blue-purple over the floorboards. She thought for a moment before scooting carefully to the edge of the boards and peering downwards. The camera, unfortunately, didn't pick up much through the darkness below. "You think it lives down there?" Tucker had no comment. Sam glanced over her shoulder at him. "You wanna go down and find out?" She heard the puck snap loudly against the board, and she and Tucker both jumped. She turned, scrambling back from the edge of the dark hole, and set the camera down on the floor by her backpack. She refused to say anything about it, but her mouth went dry just then, and all of a sudden she was aware just how cold it had gotten. She glanced down; the puck rested firmly on the board: NO. Tucker had frozen up. He'd pulled his hat down over his ears, and was trying to convince himself that there wasn't a ghost, or at least that it wasn't out to get them. It wasn't working. He gave up trying to block everything out and instead looked helplessly over at Sam. "Can we please go home?" Sam hesitated. Her eyes remained affixed to the puck on the board before her. Part of her wanted to listen to Tucker and call it a night; no, she told herself, we came out here to see ghosts, and we're finally seeing them. It was just because she'd never actually talked to one before - that's why she was jumpy. That must be it. She gave herself a little nod, as if the matter was settled, and turned back to the board. The puck remained still - what had she said? She'd asked Tucker if he'd wanted to take a look down the hole and see what they'd find. She guessed they'd end up in the kitchen downstairs - she'd seen it when they'd come in, although they hadn't investigated it yet - but the spirit, apparently, was against the notion. Well, she reasoned, they didn't really belong here. If anyone did, it was the ghost. She asked quietly, "Why are you with us, spirit?" The puck slid partway across the board, paused for a moment, and then backtracked: I DON'T KNOW. Tucker stiffened. "Sam," he whispered, as if somehow the entity wouldn't overhear him if he was quiet enough, "You think it even knows it's dead - ?" The puck on the board was moving again. YES. A spike of fear pierced him. Dread had hung over him since he and Sam had stepped foot in the remains of the house, and had grown into a knot in his gut when she'd pulled the ouija board out; seeing the spirit respond directly to him was almost too much. He turned to Sam again, his voice high. "What does it want - tell it to go away - " Sam gave him a disapproving look. "Tucker," she said slowly, voicing her thought process as it was happening, "It knows it's a ghost. It's self-aware - hey, wait a second." She leaned over the board a little. "What if it really doesn't know why it's here? What if it needs our help to move on?" "Move on?" Tucker echoed, "Sam, this is serious - !" "I am serious!" Sam snapped, crossing her arms, "Go and sit in the hall, then. I'm gonna keep talking to it." "Split up? Are you out of your mind? That's what gets us both killed!" "Stop it," Sam hissed through her teeth, trying her best to sound demanding in the hopes that it would mask her uncertainty. Despite what she kept telling herself, part of her did believe Tucker; spirits were dangerous, and the only thing worse than provoking one and making it angry was finding out that it had followed her home an made itself comfortable. Although it took some effort, she managed to keep her breaths steady. This was your idea, you know. You said it would be fun. She was determined to see it through. That, and Tucker wouldn't let her hear the end of it if she changed her mind now. She settled back on her haunches again, keeping Tucker's eyes. "Are you bailing or not?" Tucker hesitated. Most of him really wanted to, but he shook his head. "Not." "That's what I thought," she whispered. Relief swept over her; she had fully expected him to leave her by herself, and she wondered briefly whether she would have stayed if he had. Despite the fact that Tucker was scared of a great many things, it was still better to have him around. Her attention turned back to the board. Her flashlight, plopped on top of her backpack, had kept it lit so that they could see. "What d'you think we should ask it?" Tucker fidgeted. "I don't know, man." "Thanks. Love your input." Tucker thought for a moment. "Ask it what it wants. Maybe we'll get lucky and it won't say it's gonna murder us for coming into its house." "You know it can hear you say that, right?" said Sam, "Why don't you ask it that yourself?" Tucker didn't. Sam scoffed, but looked back down at the board anyway. "Spirit," she paused, knowing there was a more proper way she was supposed to ask things (according to Felicity-from-third-period, anyhow), "Is there something keeping you tethered here - something you're still looking for?" There was a long silence before the faint scraping of the puck across the board. It got as far as ALO- before it skittered off the board completely. Sam caught it before it could disappear through the gaps in the floorboards or down into the ruined kitchen, and set it back on the board. After a moment, it tried again: LONELY. "Tucker," Sam whispered, wide eyes fixed on the puck, "I wonder if it's the only one still around?" "You mean only one ghost instead of a whole family of them? Yeah, that makes me feel so much better." The puck was still moving: FOLLOW. Sam opened her mouth to question what it meant, but the puck came suddenly upwards, hanging for a moment in the air. It set itself down in the palm of her hand at the same instant that she was wracked by an uncontrollable shiver; the sensation passed, but the puck in her hand was like ice. It turned slowly to point down the hall. "Tucker," she breathed, "Did you see that?" He nodded. "That's not good, man." Sam got slowly up to her feet, keeping her movements slow and even. Her hands had finally quit trembling; her fingers had gone mostly numb, but it hardly registered. She followed the direction she was given, and peered out into the hall. "Sam - hey, wait!" Tucker scrambled after her, shoving the infra back into her backpack and tucking the board under one arm. He paused at the top of the stairs; she was already partway down, careful not to touch anything that might give way under her. He propped the flashlight briefly in the corner of his neck so that he had his hands free to sling the backpack over one shoulder, and went down after her. He caught up to her at the landing, the flashlight in his hand surprisingly steady. Sam turned to him, and he swore he caught a glint of green in her eye. "Gimme that," she took the flashlight from him, and turned it about the room. The wall separating the living-room from the kitchen was in a sorry state. The shapes of flames that had overtaken it were still visible, outlined in charcoal-black, and part of it had crumbled completely. Her footsteps were careful, but under the empty foorframe on the far side was where the floor gave out completely. This did not stop her from coming all the way up to the edge and peering down into the hole. She glanced down at the puck, which was still in her hand; it pointed ahead. The flashlight illuminated, a little at a time, the space below. There was - at least, there had been at one point - a basement down there. It was littered with charred furniture and debris; burned beams and plaster had collapsed from the level above, and anything that might otherwise have survived the fire was crushed. The remains of two metal work-tables jutted out from under the debris in the corner of the room. The metal walls had bowed outwards, and the near end where there had once been stairs was now a mangled wreck. "Tucker, she whispered, "I think this is where it started." Tucker peered over her shoulder. "You're not seriously gonna go down there. Please tell me you're not - " Sam turned to him. "Why not? There's no way we're not getting better results down there - " "Because, Sam!" Tucker exclaimed, "Hello! Scary basement in a house you already know is haunted? Don't you think that's got bad idea written all over it? That's where you go to die!" "It can't be that - " "Don't say it! Don't! Even! Say it! That's malarkey and you know it!" Tucker grabbed her wrist, taking a step back toward the front door. "Come on, Sam, please let's just go home, I promise we'll be alive for so much longer - " "Tucker, quit it!" Sam snapped. She yanked herself free of him, taking one step back in an effort to counterbalance herself. The floorboard splintered underneath her; she toppled back, landing with a hard thud on the cold floor of the basement and momentarily losing her focus. She stood, shaking the dizziness out of her head, and glanced around for the flashlight. It had come to rest on a fallen pile of burned wood and gone out, and she gave it a few smacks with the heel of her hand in the hopes it would light up again. It didn't. "Sam?" came Tucker's voice from above. She looked up; she could make out his outline against the opening of the stairs, but the stairs themselves were gone. "Sam, are you okay?" "Yeah," she called back, "I'm good." "I told you we should have gone home." Sam sighed. "Look, I'm gonna see if I can find a big box or something I can stand on to get back up. Just hold still for a sec, would you?" She thought she heard him grumble something along the lines of "I bet you'll stay down there as long as you want" but ignored it. She turned to the wreck of the basement with a shiver - it was much colder down here than it had been upstairs - but she was unable to make out many details in the dark. The only thing that she could see for sure was some big shadowy thing on the far end of the room - she guessed it was mounted to the wall, and she didn't give it another thought until the little red light at the top blinked to life. She paused, her heart beginning to race. What was that? There couldn't possibly still be power here, could there? The little red light indicated otherwise. She watched, silent, as the thing on the wall groaned. Two massive metal plates began to part before her, screeching from a year of neglect, and an unearthly mist crawled from behind them. It settled in pools between piles of rubble, and a swirl of unfathomable energy cast a ghastly green light across the space. Sam's breath caught in her chest. She knew she was trembling, and not just from the sudden cold - despite herself, she couldn't take her eyes away from the crooked circle of light. In the near-complete darkness, it was almost blinding, and she brought one hand up over her eyes to shield herself. "Sam? What's going on down there?" came Tucker's voice, but it seemed distant. A second later, he came down after her; she hardly noticed. "Sam - ?" Sam carefully crept closer. She traced the outline of the portal with her gaze; she could feel the energy that wafted from it, and her skin broke out in goosebumps. She could see that the metal frame of the thing was completely intact, almost as if there hadn't been a fire at all, and another piece clicked into place in her mind. "Tucker," she whispered, only daring to glance over at him for an instant, "This is it. This is what caused it." Tucker couldn't seem to take his eyes off the thing either, but remained silent. The off-lime glow began to dim slowly, and Sam and Tucker both took a step back. Wisps of concentrated energy swirled together in the center, taking shape; it was the shadow that Sam had caught in the beam of her flashlight earlier, floating almost in the center of the room. Its strength was fuller here, and it was able to manifest more clearly: its hands and feet faded from blackened shadow to foggy white wisps, and its eyes began to glow a softer green. It kept its head low, as if afraid to look at them directly. Sam was the first to take a step forward. Her heart was pounding but her mind had all but ground to a halt - an actual for-real ghost! - and she had gone almost completely numb. She kept her eyes on the apparition, certain that it would vanish if she looked away for even an instant, and one hand slowly came out to see if she could touch it. The spirit flinched, floating back from her for a moment, but then paused. It regarded her, unblinking, and one of its hands hesitantly came out to meet hers. It spoke not aloud but as an echo in her mind: (lonely) She brushed its fingertips with hers. Only then did she begin to process again, and she blinked a few times in an effort to keep her thoughts from scattering in all directions at once. "I..." What could she even have said? What did she really want to tell it? There weren't any answers for that, and she let herself go quiet again. The spirit floated lower, holding its shape but declining to solidify into a solid mass. Its touch was like ice, but it held its fingers against hers. It finally met her gaze. (scared?) Sam realized slowly that its question was directed at her. Her mouth had run dry, and so she just nodded slowly. (Me too) "Sam," Tucker whispered, "We really shouldn't be here - " (Don't go) Sam turned slowly. "Don't you get it," she said hoarsely, almost unable to speak at all. She turned back to the ghost so that Tucker wouldn't see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "He's been stuck down here this whole time. He's the only one stuck down here. I can't even imagine..." The spirit reached out a little further, taking Sam's hand. Its touch was careful, as if it was afraid it might hurt her, and it drifted slowly downwards to be level with her. Sam swiped at the tears with the back of her other hand. "You've been by yourself down here since you died, haven't you?" (Yes) Something in her stomach twinged. She couldn't bear to think of it - being caught in some disaster, losing everything and everyone, and being forced to stay behind and wander the little that's left - it made her sick. "I'm so sorry..." The spirit swayed a little in place. (Please stay) Sam found herself nodding before she had even thought about it. "Of course we'll stay - " (we? Tucker asked from behind her) " - you don't have anyone to talk to anymore - you poor ghost, you must be heartbroken - " (Yeah, kinda) Tucker shifted in place. Part of him still wanted to leave this whole house behind, but he knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. He admitted, somewhat reluctantly to himself, that he'd probably be miserable too if anything like that had happened to him. Maybe he wasn't going to turn his back on the spirit, but for the moment he'd keep his mouth shut. Sam still had the spirit's hand. The cold had faded; an electric pins-and-needles sensation was in its place, and she did her best to ignore it. She glanced briefly back at Tucker, as if she'd needed his permission for anything they'd done that night, and asked: "Were you still going to bail?" Tucker shuffled his feet. "I guess not." She turned back to the spirit before her. "We can't stay too long - but I promise we'll be back tomorrow. Soon as the sun goes down. We can talk then, right?" (I'll still be here) Sam gave the ghost a little nod. She could still hardly believe it - she'd just made friends with an actual ghost! She took a deep breath, and asked quietly: "You have a name, ghost? Mine's Sam." The spirit's glowing green eyes turned slightly upwards. (Mine's Danny. I'll see you tomorrow) and just like that he vanished as the portal behind him powered down.

#danny phantom #phic phight 19 #phic phight #team ghost

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unsettlingstories · 7 years ago

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Updated index of all stories. May 16, 2018.

Transfigurations: A small, self-published collection of my favorite short stories from 2015. Individual Stories

3 Signs You May Be An Introvert and How to Cope: Some great tips! 30 years ago today, my neighbor’s son disappeared: They miss him. A Case of Hives: My son isn’t feeling too well… A Cure for Writer’s Block: How to find inspiration when it’s just not there. A Curious Dog: My dog won’t stop pawing at a wall in the basement. A Gifted Chef: My friend was one of the greats. I miss him. A Life Worth Living: Big changes lead to bigger results. A Most Welcome Visitor: He’d come to me in the middle of the night. A Pathetic Wretch: His neighbor just won’t stop crying. An Artist’s Canvas: The beauty of symmetry. A Questionable Glory Hole: A young man’s first sexual experience. A Warning To Women With IUDs: Be careful whatcha put up ya. Adrenochrome: The horrible, impossible truth. All Horror Stories About Dolls Are Fake: My daughter was bullied mercilessly. Allison’s Loss: My daughter is devastated by the death of her friend. Alternative Medicine: A wife treats her husband with an old remedy. All Thumbs: My embarrassing habit. A Message in a Bottle: I’m suddenly filled with dread. A Very Bad Place to Hide: Maybe even the worst. Amy’s Wish: Blow away the eyelash and make a wish! An Unlucky Samaritan: Think twice before stopping to help. Are My Twins Spending Too Much Time Together?: For woke mommies only. Assisted Suicide: He begged me to help him die. Attempts to Repair the Irreparable: How do you move on? Bad Sex: Has this ever happened to you and your partner? Bags: A hunting trip goes very, very wrong. Beach Bodies: What’s that out in the water? A whale? Ben’s Fear: He just hated seaweed. Bitcoin Mining and the Death of the Universe: I think I fucked something up. Bits and Pieces: Chunks and portions. Bitumen: A man who loves dinosaurs. Black Balloons: My little daughter saw shapes in the sky. Bluebirds: Possibly the most reprehensible thing I’ve ever written. Bluefin: Use caution when poaching an endangered species. Body Cast: The worst thing that can happen when you’re immobilized. Body Hair Removal: I learned a valuable lesson. Bridgeport Power Plant: There’s something living there. Bubbles: Strange happenings in an emergency room. Butt Stuff: The activity - not the other thing. Caroline’s New Teeth: The Tooth Fairy’s best customer. Caviar: Only the best for discerning palates. Centipedes: There’s some big ones out there, you know. Charles Robert Olevsky: Ever Google yourself? Chopped!: An unaired episode of the Food Network show. Christmas Morning With Danny and His New Puppy: Danny gets a puppy. Comfort Food: Anything to help fill that void. Coping Mechanisms: Life after losing a husband and a daughter. Cracks in the Foundation: A relationship on the edge. Dawn: I hurt my sister so badly. I’ll never forgive myself. Daycare Massacre: A terrible incident before a hurricane. Death Looking into the Window of One Dying: His final days. Dede Elgy: This monster story will make you feel dirty. Very dirty. Deniehyfield, Australia is Being Dismantled: My town is disappearing. Dermatographia: Words on my skin. Devil’s Hole: The geological anomaly, not the…you know. Dial Tone: What’s going on with my phone? Diary of a Woman in New Hampshire: Found a diary. Wtf. Dilation and Evacuation: A friend in need is a friend indeed. Division: Nothing is right. Double Dare: The long-lost episode never seen in the US. Dumbwaiter: A family learns something about their house. Elective Surgery: I just want him to be happy. Elf on the Shelf: He’s watching. Endless Chirping: Ever get a cricket in your room? Escaphism: The journey of one man, his love, and The Verdant World. Ethan’s Halloween Mask: Not all friendships are positive. ExpressionCaptioner.com: This website is seriously weird. Fallenfield Mountain: A geological survey gone wrong. Very wrong. Family Tree: A unique family tradition is revealed. Farm to Table: Fucking hipsters. Fertility Treatments: Some people are desperate to have a baby. Fireflies: You would not believe your eyes. For Lena and Clair: Trapped after an earthquake. Found the Bees: Well, that solves that mystery. Gratification Through Annihilation: Suffer the little children. Great Potential: A lady who loves children. He Went Ahead: My friends and I were into urban exploration. Heather’s Phases: My wife always had body-image issues. House Sounds: What do we keep hearing? I Dream of Names and Cancer: My eternal nightmare. I Pressed My Hands Against My Eyes: And only then could I truly see. I Shouldn’t Have Broken Into My Neighbor’s Garage: I’ll never unsee it. If Anyone Asks: An old farmer notices something about his scarecrow. I’ll Never Wear a Condom Again: No way, no how. Instantiations: An AI gets powerful and utilitarianism rears its head. In Praise of Our God: A helpful neighbor. It’s Hard to Clean Blood Out of a Fur Suit: Right? Jerry’s Mouth: Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats. Jill-o-Lanterns: The murders are all connected. Jim Jameson’s Pumpkins: A dead farmer’s secrets. Know it All: See it all, feel it all, know it all. Last Weekend: Hazmat suits, horror, and a mystery. Licks From a Bear: Skull + electric drill = story. Lippy: I’ve always been self conscious about the size of my labia. Little Cows: Meet the milkmaid. Long Fingers: I can feel them. Making Faces: Strange prints on the windows… Making Their Dad Proud: A family that plays together… Malcolm: You know those floaty things in your eyes? Maria’s Extra-Credit Assignment: Gotta get a good grade. Medical Issue: What’s the stuff I found on a rock? Memoir of a Cam Girl: She is being controlled. Missing Mousetraps: My neighbors had an infestation. Moaning Lollipops: Why do they make that sound in my mouth? Motility: My sperm sucked. Mr. Puddles: A little boy just won’t stop splashing. Mushy Stuff: My parents never let me have any fun. My Amazon Alexa Does More Than Laugh: Please help - I’m in danger. My Brother’s Fall: Horror deep below the Iraqi desert. My Cellar Door is Breathing: Is that normal? My Constellation: Want to be sad? This will make you sad. My erection lasted longer than 4 hours: and I didn’t call a doctor. My four year old son woke up with a full head of grey hair: Help us. My Last Abduction: All the other ones don’t count. My Only Experience With ASMR: Hint - it didn’t go well. My Sister Found the Coolest Thing!: You’ve gotta hear about it. My Sweet Boy: A mom who loves her son. My Trouble With Fairies: They’re so mischievous and unpredictable! My Wife, the Artist: A couple who loves Halloween. Nests: Ah, the great outdoors. Network Security: Two friends get a glimpse of a Russian science lab. Never Ride the Subway at Night: You never know who could be watching you. Norwalk Cemetery: There’s something alien in there… Not All Men: Temper, temper, young man. Of Malevolence; Of Misanthropy: A disturbed scientist makes a discovery. Open Mouths: A hideous ritual. Otter: I’ve always wanted to be one. Ouroboros: Why cut when you can cut off? Pebbles: A strange meteor shower. Phone Sex: It all started when I realized my iPhone was self-lubricating. People are disappearing in Northern Canada: What is happening? Pool Cover: I almost drowned when I was 13. Pray Away: Conversion therapy for deviant behavior. Pretty Little Bugs: A new job as a cameraman. Prosopagnosia: After an accident, my husband couldn’t recognize us. Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice: What can be better? Quarry: Trying to beat the heat on a summer day. Randall’s Chatty Leg: He said it was talking to him. I heard it. Rats in the Barn: An exterminator’s apprentice. Recycling: Parents try to understand their depressed daughter. Rediscovering the Newness of Sex: Let’s spice it up a little. Regarding Danny and Micah Stevenson: Two brothers rely on one another. Regina’s Raspberry Jam: She put everything she had into it. Road Head: Who doesn’t like getting sucked on? Seriously. Roo: An old man watches a girl grow up. Roots of Change: Something is happening beneath our feet. Ropes: Be careful what you eat. Rotting Pumpkins: A Halloween ritual. Round Faces: My daughter keeps complaining about monsters. Safety: Our grandfather was obsessed with it. Seed of Man, Pollen of Angels: A family tradition. Sex, Gender, and Other Social Constructs: Destroy them all. Sex in the Cemetery: Gotta do it somewhere, I guess. Skincare Diary: My acne was getting out of hand. Smokey, the Dog I Rescued: A very very good boye. Snapshot of a New Man: Evil (Inspiration for The Coronation Cycles series.) Soft Teeth: A man used to sneak into my room at night. Sprouts: Something beautiful from something small. Still a Family: Two sisters have lunch while waiting for their parents. Stop Being Such Babies: The woods aren’t scary, for fuck’s sake. Stuffing: Grandma’s was the best. Suicide Woods: Not just in Japan anymore. Tainted Candy: The legend is real. Teeny-Tiny: Katie wants to lose weight. That Good Dick: You know what I mean ;) The Alzheimer’s Ward: This isn’t right. The Bleakness Before Our Old Eyes: The Universe tasted us that night. The Blissful Insensate: An experiment goes terribly wrong. The Cave in the Lake: A discovery while scuba diving leads to horror. The Chernobyl Abomination: My father saw something he shouldn’t have. The Cotard Delusion: A new drug has a frightening side-effect. The Day I Started Believing In Ghosts: I’m still in shock. The Empty Cribs on Hawthorne Lane: Missing children. The Face in the Clouds: A meteorological anomaly? Or something else? The Floor is Lava: We all used to play that game, right? The Giggliest Girl: Don’t tickle me, Mommy. The Gray in Girl: A man finds a girl on the side of the road. The Hitchhiker: I think I need a new car now. The Incident at the Train Station: After a suicide, something…worse. The Job I Couldn’t Leave: I was employed by a psychopath. The Last of the Trick-or-Treaters: A strange costume. The Last words of an Explorer: A city on no one's map. The Least Satisfying Explanation: And the biggest understatement I’ve made. The Little Ghost: That nagging voice inside your head. The Lord of Hosts: Lice The Moose Hunt: Is…is that really a moose? The Perils of Live TV: It’s not all fun and games. The Perks of Working in a Funeral Home: There aren’t many, but still. The Pilot: A UFO crash. The Oblivion that Masks Pain: Escape. The Old Mine Outside Town: Everyone was too scared to go in. I wasn’t. The Only Solution: How to bring back a loved one? The Only Thing That Matters: Zombies attack a supermarket. The House in the Woods: Bad title, good story. The Shores of Pluto: A journey without moving. The Sleeping Game: We played when we were kids. The Small Eyed Children of Canyon del Cristo: A local legend comes alive. The Squirming Man: Please leave me alone. The Star Bridge: My friend found something beyond life. The Tomb of the Builders: Divers looking for sunken treasure find something evil. The Trawl: We dragged something up from deep underwater. The Wisdom of Moms: Mother knows best. The Worst Party in Ten Thousand Years: Trust me, it’s pretty damn bad. There is nothing wrong in East Flatbush, Brooklyn: Ignore the dragonflies. There’s something very wrong with my parrot: WTF. Tiptoeing the Line of Consent: But never crossing it. To Adore: Our beautiful baby girl. To the Kind Folks at WebMD: Just a couple questions. To Travel: Bodies in bodies, bodies of bodies. Trees of Eyes: They’re watching. Tunnel Rat: My grandfather told us the worst story I’ve ever heard. Seriously. Uncle Liam: I never told the real story about how he died. Under My Teeth: My mouth is screaming. Uplift: A brilliant scientist works to improve the human condition. We’re All Smiling: Whether we want to or not. We Share the Empty Roads: You’re never, ever alone when you drive. Wet Bedroom: A haunted house with a hideous history. What He Told Me: Evil (Inspiration for The Coronation Cycles series.) Wikileaks: A document they refused to leak. What to expect when I’m expecting: Hint - it’s the worst. Why I Don’t Hike Anymore: Not what you might think.

Story Series

The Smols: Maybe the most fucked up stories I've ever written.

Sade Smols Emmy Smols

The Secret Doctors of NASA: A wide-ranging conspiracy.

A Dentist's Discovery A Psychologist's Suicide A Surgeon's Nightmare

Tales from Social Media

Something horrible is happening to me on Tumblr Something horrible is happening to me on Facebook Something horrible is happening to me on Reddit Something horrible is happening to me on Grindr Something horrible is happening to me on Myspace Something horrible is happening to me on Pokemon Go

Sockets: Craigslist allows you to meeting interesting people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#horror stories #scary stories #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #creative writing

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