Ghosts were nonsense. At least, that was what Morrow believed.
They had spent countless nights wandering through abandoned graveyards, exploring crumbling mansions, and listening to the stories whispered by frightened villagers. Every creaking door had a draft behind it, every flickering light had a reasonable explanation, and every ghost sighting was just someone letting their imagination run wild.
Morrow had never seen a ghost, after all. And if there was one thing they trusted, it was their own eyes.
That was how their search for proof led them to an old manor on the edge of the forest, a place locals refused to approach after sundown. They claimed a restless spirit haunted its halls, a creature with wild fur, a curling tail, and eyes that glowed like green lanterns in the dark.
Morrow found the description amusingly specific.
That night, they slipped through a broken gate and padded toward the manor. The front door swung open before they touched it. Inside, dust drifted through the moonlight, and a cold breeze curled around their paws.
“Cheap tricks,” Morrow muttered. That was, until they heard footsteps. They followed the sound upstairs, down a narrow corridor, and into a room filled with dusty mirrors. In the largest mirror stood a figure with a shaggy silhouette, a wild mane, and luminous green eyes.
Morrow turned around, but nobody was there.
They faced the mirror again. Morrow tilted their head. The figure tilted its own.
A terrible realization crept into their mind. They had visited this manor before. They remembered the staircase, the broken gate, the storm that had raged outside.
And all at once, they remembered falling. Slippery steps. A terrible crack. The cold stone beneath them.
Morrow stumbled backward, but their paws made no sound. They looked down and watched the floor show faintly through their legs, their dark fur dissolving into wisps of shadow.
For the first time in their life, Morrow believed in ghosts… Because the creature in the mirror wasn’t a stranger. It was them.
The manor had never been keeping a ghost out. It had been keeping one in.
Morrow stared at their reflection, their glowing eyes wide with horror. All those nights searching for proof, all those lonely journeys through the dark. They hadn’t been hunting ghosts. They had been trying to understand what they had become.
Outside, the church bells rang midnight and Morrow turned toward the open door, their tail curling behind them. Perhaps there were other spirits wandering unseen, just as lost as they had been.
For once, Morrow didn’t need proof. They believed. Then, from the deepest corner of the mirror, another pair of eyes opened. They glowed a sickly yellow.
Smamm
Ghosts were nonsense. At least, that was what Morrow believed.
They had spent countless nights wandering through abandoned graveyards, exploring crumbling mansions, and listening to the stories whispered by frightened villagers. Every creaking door had a draft behind it, every flickering light had a reasonable explanation, and every ghost sighting was just someone letting their imagination run wild.
Morrow had never seen a ghost, after all. And if there was one thing they trusted, it was their own eyes.
That was how their search for proof led them to an old manor on the edge of the forest, a place locals refused to approach after sundown. They claimed a restless spirit haunted its halls, a creature with wild fur, a curling tail, and eyes that glowed like green lanterns in the dark.
Morrow found the description amusingly specific.
That night, they slipped through a broken gate and padded toward the manor. The front door swung open before they touched it. Inside, dust drifted through the moonlight, and a cold breeze curled around their paws.
“Cheap tricks,” Morrow muttered. That was, until they heard footsteps. They followed the sound upstairs, down a narrow corridor, and into a room filled with dusty mirrors. In the largest mirror stood a figure with a shaggy silhouette, a wild mane, and luminous green eyes.
Morrow turned around, but nobody was there.
They faced the mirror again. Morrow tilted their head. The figure tilted its own.
A terrible realization crept into their mind. They had visited this manor before. They remembered the staircase, the broken gate, the storm that had raged outside.
And all at once, they remembered falling. Slippery steps. A terrible crack. The cold stone beneath them.
Morrow stumbled backward, but their paws made no sound. They looked down and watched the floor show faintly through their legs, their dark fur dissolving into wisps of shadow.
For the first time in their life, Morrow believed in ghosts… Because the creature in the mirror wasn’t a stranger. It was them.
The manor had never been keeping a ghost out. It had been keeping one in.
Morrow stared at their reflection, their glowing eyes wide with horror. All those nights searching for proof, all those lonely journeys through the dark. They hadn’t been hunting ghosts. They had been trying to understand what they had become.
Outside, the church bells rang midnight and Morrow turned toward the open door, their tail curling behind them. Perhaps there were other spirits wandering unseen, just as lost as they had been.
For once, Morrow didn’t need proof. They believed. Then, from the deepest corner of the mirror, another pair of eyes opened. They glowed a sickly yellow.
And they were staring directly at Morrow.
2026-10-25 05:04:26 (Edited 2026-10-25 05:06:21)
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