CCC #113 Ghost

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batkevin74

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#1  Edited By batkevin74
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*(insert spooky ghost noises and appropriate chain clanking, floorboard creaking atmosphere)*

Halloween is looming and after scanning through our previous contests I saw that we haven't done a contest about ghost/s. We've had vampires, zombies, ninjas, Star Wars, create a villain...go see @ficopedia's wonderful cataloging of this forum and the CCC contests to see the previous 112 contests. And if we HAVE done a ghost one before, it's time to do another :)

So this contest is about a ghost or even ghosts. Now it has to be the spectral kind and not the easy "their name is ghost". They can be the protagonists, antagonists, heroes or even villains of your piece, your choice. It can set anywhere, in any universe, with no word limit just make sure it is in before the dead line and we'll be good.

Fine print + T's & C's:

*Contest runs from NOW until 11.59pm on the 2nd of November SYDNEY AUSTRALIAN TIME (click link so you don't get caught out by the roundness of the planet)

*MUST have at least ONE original character in your story

*Ghost must be of the spectral kind

So get on with it....your time starts NOW!!

No Caption Provided

Call outs in no particular order ( and apologies if I missed you) @steve40l@amazing_webhead@richgenx

@wildvine@cbishop@the_impersonator@tommythehitman@time_phantom@dngn4774@oscuro

@waezi2@pyrofn@julie_hume@masterofkrynn@mrmonster@joshmightbe@youngjustice

@spareheadone@silverspidey@project_worm@darkchild@stumpy49er@irishlad@pyrogram

@nordok@4donkeyjohnson@jexsu@jungala@mr__mercury@feral_nova@basicfan30@captof501st

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@wildvine, @nordok, @bumpyboo (not really sure who's active right now)- can one of you fine folks please pin this, and unpin the CCC 112 voting thread? Thanks, and hope you all are doing well! :)

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Nice topic, I'll make sure to write something good.

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@the_impersonator: Okay that’s gotta be a record, entry within 12-14hrs of topic going up! You are a machine! Are you real?

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@cbishop: 11.59pm...I’ll fix it, thanks for that, knew it was too easy

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deactivated-62104bda2b3a2

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Thanks for inviting me to play!

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#11  Edited By batkevin74

@the_impersonator: you had this in a drawer, just waiting for some one to say "got a ghost story?" and BOOM you did :)

@julie_hume:you're welcome, the more the merrier :)

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@batkevin74: I figured someone would be doing a Halloween-themed contest. So, yeah. :)

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Ghosts of WW2

9th of May 1940, the Elysée Palace, Paris

French President Albert Lebrun wrung his hands. “Are you certain?”

Dorian Haleine de Chien craned his neck to look down on the moustached man with a look of disdain. “The stars and the fates do not lie. Tomorrow the forces of Germany will circumvent the Maginot Line by invading the neutral territories of Belgium, Luxembourg and The Netherlands. They will crush France under its boot.”

Lebrun slammed his fist onto the desk. “Damn that Austrian rat! What do you need me to do?”

“Since there is no longer a royal family of France, you must permit me to act,” Dorian said as he threw off his black velvet coat to reveal a suit of crushed velvet that glimmered with unearthly lights. “You must say, I give you permission to act.”

Lebrun grit his teeth then stood to pace the room. “Allowing you to act means what?”

Dorian scowled a little. “By invoking the Charlemagne Sorcerer, which is me, you permit me to act in France’s best interests to use mystical and paranormal forces to prevent an invasion of France by Germany.”

“Why does this feel like a deal with the devil?”

“Because if you trace back far enough, my very great grandfather several hundred times back WAS the Devil.” Dorian smiled and cracked his knuckles. “The choice is yours but do hurry. The sooner you give permission the more I can do.”

“I’m not sure,” Lebrun paced.

“You would give France over to goosestepping warmongers?” Dorian questioned him. “Really? You lack backbone, spirit, and balls! You are a coward!”

Lebrun glared at the weird sorcerer. “How dare you?!”

“When France’s future is at stake, I dare EVERYTHING!” Dorian’s eyes flared red.

“Then do it!” Lebrun yelled back.

“You have to sa…”

“I, Albert Lebrun, President of the Third Republic, give permission to Dorian Haleine de Chien, the Charlemagne Sorcerer, to protect France at all costs!”

Dorian’s mouth went wide in awe, shock, then delight as his body coursed with magical energy. The room shook. A swirling vortex of wind enveloped the room lifting the sorcerer into the air, laughing as he did.

“Dorian?”

“HE’S A LITTLE BUSY!” growled the guttural voice from within the floating wizard as ethereal tendrils shot out from his chest through the roof and across the sky in a huge arcing loop to Minsk. They slammed into the ground startling farm animals for miles around. The it went deathly quiet.

Lebrun stared in confusion.

“DON’T WORRY LITTLE MAN,” the voice snarled. “AN ARMY IS COMING TO SAVE YOU! A GRANDE ONE!”

From the grounds of Minsk and the surrounds, hundreds of ghosts rose up from the ground. The dead of the Grande Armée from 1812 awoke from their eternal slumber. Ghosts as far as the eye could see, some four hundred thousand old souls floated about in tattered uniforms.

Dorian looked down upon Lebrun. “TODAY WE TAKE THE WAR TO HITLER. VIVA LA FRANCE!”

__

10th of May 1940, Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, London

“Where the dickens is Crowley?” bellowed Winston Churchill as he stormed into the room A few steps behind him was his bodyguard Walter H Thompson.

Green smoke plopped out of a hole in the air and cascaded down across the floor before coalescing into the form of a man, one Alastair Crowley.

“Enough of the theatrics, Crowley!” Winston barked. “What the hell happened in Minsk?”

The wizards piercing eyes caught Winston’s. “You know in another reality my son gives you a magic lamp and you become THE worst person the world has ever seen?”

“What are you blathering about?”

“There are realities upon realities, Winston,” Crowley stated as he created a viewing mirror in the air with a wave of his hand. “But this isn’t why I was summoned was it? Seems that France has enacted the services of the Charlemagne Sorcerer to protect itself from the Germans.”

“That’s just a myth!”

“I know you’ve studied history, Winston, but the Charlemagne Sorcerer is as real as you or I. Which is why I’m here and you’re yelling because a ghost army is advancing upon Berlin.”

The pair locked eyes before Churchill blinked and lit up a cigar. “What do we do?”

“Honestly, nothing.”

“Are you mad Crowley? There are GHOSTS!”

“Fighting the enemy, Winston. If you get this upset, how will you feel if Hitler opens the Ark of the Covenant?”

Winston Churchill looked agog at the wizard.

“Yes Winston, the Ark is real. As it the Spear of Destiny, Hieronymus the dimension hopping dragon man, Nabu’s Helmet, the Hammer of Thor, the Chalice of Quaseem, the Bone Shield of the Kurdaitcha…all irrelevant at this point in time.”

“What do we do with the army of ghosts invading Germany?”

Crowley rubbed his chin. “Leave them be. If you interrupt the spell cast by the Charlemagne Sorcerer then the ghosts could scatter, and at the moment they are focused and being used for the right purpose. Better four hundred thousand ghosts in Hitler’s bowels. Once that is done THEN do something about him because he has shifted the magical balance. The German occult division, The Ahnenerbe, will do something stupid to retaliate, my guess is Himmler will summon a demon or bagura from the Abyss.”

“Your suggestion is wait.”

“Sometimes you have to be patient,” Crowley said. “These are forces far beyond the mortal scope playing out on the mortal plane.”

Winston furrowed his brow and sucked on his cigar in thought. “This is the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, perhaps we should wait and see.”

“I shall visit Dorian,” and with that he faded away like a morning mist.

Paris

Alastair Crowley appeared in the room next to Dorian Haleine de Chien who was still aloft in the air, eldritch tendrils shooting from his body like he was an electric hedgehog.

“Hello Mazzikim,” Crowley acknowledged.

“CROWLEY!” the guttural voice spat from within Dorian. “COME TO BATTLE?”

“On the contrary, I came to bargain.”

Dorian’s head lolled forward and the blazing eyes of Mazzikim looked down on the English occultist. “WITH WHAT?”

“The Agreement of Ettlebruck.”

“I DON’T ABIDE BY HUMAN LAWS!”

“True but this isn’t a human law, it’s a celestial one. Agreed to by all levels and layers of the hellscapes along with the hierarchies of heaven that the magical and monstrous from beyond will limit their influence in the human world. The occasional possession is okay, same with a healing of the faithful, but a spectral ghost army violates the Agreement and…”

“ETERNAL DEATH!” Mazzikim gasped.

“You need to undo what you’ve done or ALL will come for you,” Crowley said as he waved his hands creating a nimbus of purple energy.

“I COULD WIN!”

Crowley cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “I don’t think so, Mazzikim. You know that.”

“BAH!” With a burst of energy Dorian hit the floor, the tendrils evaporating. Crowley walked over to the panting Frenchman.

“You alright, Dorian?”

The Charlemagne Sorcerer looked at Crowley. “What did I do?’

“What you thought was right,” Crowley helped him up. “Its what we all do.”

Dorian wiped his teary eyes. “Than…”

“But an act like that cannot go unpunished,” Crowley brought up his standard issue Webley Revolver and unloaded a bullet into the temple of the French wizard dropping him like a stone. Moments later a spectral form rose from the body looking at Crowley who loaded a red bullet into the chamber.

“You broke the Agreement, Dorian. Now, you pay the price.”

“No, wait! Please!’ Dorian held up his ghostly arms, but the red bullet burst from the barrel and consumed his ethereal form in hellfire and magical shrapnel making him wink from existence. Crowley put his gun away and looked at the corpse.

“I do hope I’ve done the right thing.”

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Mary Telfair’s House

“Now, the most surprising part of her time in this house is that she never left it.” I said. “Mary Telfair is still here; even after she died and her mansion was converted into a museum, her soul chose to stay behind and admire the artwork, forever.”

“And with that, I bring this tour to a close.” I said. “Thank you all for visiting The Telfair Academy, and have a wonderful rest of your evening here in the beautiful city of Savannah, Georgia.”

That was the last group of tourists that day. After they had left, there were no more guests, and most of the museum staff had already packed their things and were getting ready to leave, including the museum curator.

“Bridget, I must say, it’s been a pleasure having you on our team.” The curator said as he was leaving the building. “It’s a shame that this was the last day of your internship.”

“Well, I’m sure I'll see you again soon.” I said. “Here, how about a hug before we go?”

She gave him a hug, and then they left the building together. Once she was out, she texted her friends “I’ve got it, come over ASAP.”

Twenty minutes later, her partners, Craig and Daniel, showed up with their truck.

“Hey Jessica, good to see you. Got the security pass?” Daniel asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” I answered. “Swiped it from the curator while giving him a hug.”

“Nice.” Craig said. “Now let’s get that painting and get out of here.”

My friends and I had planned this for months; everything from me bribing my way to a summer internship with a fake name, to them renting a Uhaul with fake ids and a stolen credit card, was about to give us our biggest score yet.

The three of us had stolen paintings from all over the country, but none quite as big as The Black Prince of Crecey, the Telfair Academy’s prized work. And we already procured a collector, some multi-millionaire all the way over in London, to buy it from us with cash and transport it back to England himself, all under the table. It was the score of all scores, the work that would’ve allowed me and my friends to be set for life despite not even being thirty yet.

It was supposed to be a perfect plan; but not long into the night, things would take a turn for the supernatural.

It took us around half an hour to remove the painting from its protective casing. Then, the three of us loaded it onto an art carrier and began to move it. At a whopping 12 feet by 17 feet, it was an enormous painting, once that we couldn’t possibly have moved just by lifting it.

Our plan was to get it out the front door (the only door that we were sure was big enough to carry it through), quickly load it onto the truck, and be out of Savannah within the hour. But our first major obstacle was when we couldn’t get the front door open.

“Jessica, open the door.” Craig said.

“I’m trying.” I said. “But it won’t open, the card isn’t working.” I tried scanning it again, but still, the door stayed locked.

“I thought you left it unlocked?”

“I did.” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on here.”

“How did the key work to get us in but not out?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know.” I answered. “We’re just gonna have to leave through somewhere else. I think there’s a freight entrance in the basement, it shouldn’t be too difficult to break through.”

“Won’t that trigger the alarm?” Craig asked.

“Yes, but that’s the only other way out.” I said. “Unless you want to stay here all night and be found in the morning, we’re gonna have to take the risk and leave through there.”

“Fine.” Daniel said. “Where is it?

“Follow me.” I said.

On the way, we started to hear laughter.

“The Hell is that?” Craig asked.

“I don’t know, probably a bug with the intercom system or something.” I said, even though I knew deep down that there was no way such horrible, such evil sounding laughter could simply come from an error in the machine. “Let’s just go.”

I took them down the stairs, to the bottom floor of the museum, a room filled with replicas of Greek sculptures. But as we got down there, we were in for an even bigger surprise.

One of the statues, a statue of Hercules strangling a pair of snakes, jumped off it’s pedestal and faced us down. Moments later, so did a statute of Artemis, complete with her bow and arrow.

“Holy shit.” Craig said. “What is going on here?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve disturbed me in my own home.” A voice said. They looked up to see a woman in an old fashioned dress staring down at them while she hovered in midair. Craig and Daniel had no idea who she was, but I knew, I recognized her from the pictures on the museum brochures.

“Mary Telfair?” I asked.

“Throughout my life, art was always my main passion.” She said. “I spent my entire adult life collecting it. And in my will, I specifically made sure that my fortune would be used to turn my home into a museum after I died specifically so that I could spend forever admiring such beautiful pieces.”

“And yet here the three of you are, in my home, trying to take the most beautiful piece here.” She said.

We looked for an exit, only to find that they were all being blocked by statues come to life.

“Hand the painting to Zeus and I might let you leave here alive.” She said. “Otherwise, you’ll be the first three to die here since yours truly.”

“Alright, okay.” I said. “Zeus, come over here buddy, take the painting.”

We handed the painting to a statue of Zeus, and he began to take it upstairs.

“Okay, you have your painting back. Can we go now?” I asked.

“Sure, if you can escape.” the ghost of Mary Telfair said.

The statues then came stumbling towards us. There’s no way we could’ve gotten past any of them, so we had no choice but to run back up the stairs.

“Quick, there’s another emergency exit near the gift shop.” I said as we ran towards it. Thankfully, we were able to make it there before any of the statues were able to catch us.

After we caught our breath, Daniel said “What are we gonna tell the British dude?”

“I don’t know or care.” I said. “All I do know is that we’re now retired art thieves.”

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batkevin74

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And now we have three! Contest is on!

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So, what ended up happening to me was that I started writing a The Haunted Mansion themed story, but by the time it was only about halfway done, I realized it was too long to submit here (yes, I know there was no official word count limit, but I do like to keep things reasonably short for these contests) and will submit that one as it's own story.

So yeah, sometime within the next week or so, I'll probably post that story.

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mrmonster

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@batkevin74: You should probably retag everyone so they know the deadline has been moved up.

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@batkevin74: You should probably retag everyone so they know the deadline has been moved up.

That's the same as it was.

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@mrmonster: The deadline/end was ALWAYS the 2nd of Nov, I haven't edited that

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@batkevin74: Oh. Well shoot, sorry, I thought when you wrote NOW like that the implication was that something had changed.

Carry on then.

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#25  Edited By wildvine

Title: Yokai'mon

"Hey! You have Yokai scrolls. That means we have to fight now, if I challenge you, which I do!"

*Battle encounter music. 'Junko has challenged Kaori to battle!*

Kaori unrolls a small capture scroll, unleashing a one-eyed, one-legged Umbrella creature. "Kaa~aaaah!" The Kasa-obake's long tongue waggled out in the air as it hopped around on one stumpy foot.

"Do you know how hard it is for an umbrella to last for ninety-nine years? Now you will understand defeat as this lifetime of experience and durability comes down on you."

"Hm hm hm." Junko snickered. "What can your umbrella do against a-" She paised and unrolled her scroll dramatically, setting loose a demonic ball of blue flame.

"K-Kodama?" The other girl stuttered, imaging the foul curse she could bring down on herself and her familty, unhappy with her turn of luck.

"You should wish!" Junko replied as the flame floated around in eerie patterns. "Do you see a tree manifested? No. This thing makes Kodama look like a Hitodama. This is a fearsome Onibi." Kaori's face became an appropriate shade of pale. "Onibi, Life Absorb!" The blue demon engulfed the umbrella ghostly flames until the opponets eye rolled back, the hapless creatures rendered unconscious. "With the one hundred years life power my Onibi is even stronger for the next round."

Durifully collecting her drained monster, Kaori sets free her next night creature, Something long, dripping and rotten smelling. The original white appearance had long been left behind. Now a color of washed out whitish-grey, and flecked with mildew and mystery food stains. "Shiro Uneri does not fear your unholy fire. Feel now the frustration of a near century of hard service. Shiro Uneri, Slimy Suffecation!"

The creature really was disgusting, stinking of rot and shedding a watery ooze as it coiled restlessly in the air. The powered-up Onibi attacked with its life-sapping flames, but the dishrag dragon was seemingly unfazed as it flowed through and around the Onibi, wilting it down smaller and smaller, before snapping its jaws around the last of the flame, extinguishing the demon.

"How?" Junko stared, open mouthed.

"Shiro Uneri suffers ninety-nine years of hard, unforgiving labor only to be tossed away, that would make anyone angry."

"A mere demon elemental wouldn't stand up to such a powerful grudge energy." Junko frowned. "Perhaps I have something with a grudge as well. Something... sharp!" Junko said with a flourish, sending into battle... a girl in a school uniform lying facedown on the ground. Kaori squinted her eyes in confusion, until the ghost lifted her head, revealing a face twisted with pain and rage. "Teke Teke, Reap!" Junko ordered.

The ghostly half-a-girl clawed her way forward, her nails digging into the Earth. Shiro Uneri slithered through the air at the vengeful ghost, but Teke Teke lunged upward with shocking speed, manifesting a scyth as she moved and slashed mid-air at the living fabric. The rotting rag creature wrapped about her throat tighter and tighter, Teke Teke slashing with her blade but unable to land a hit.

"Teke Teke, return!" The ghost was reabsorbed into the captor scroll, leaving the Shiro Uneri behind. If Teke Teke didn't make the cut, maybe this will blow you away!" Junko giggled, unleashing Kamaitachi, causing an immediate field status effect, the wind blowing fiercely and the sun being overtaken with clouds. "Razor Wind!"

Kaori watched helpless as Shiro Uneri was dragged into the whirlwind, wrung savagely dry and sliced to ribbons by the spinning, angery scyth-weasels. "So, you want to give up now or get a complete beatdown?"

In reply Kaori pulled out her last scroll, and in a flash of lightening her yokai appeared. A normal looking tree, albeit supernaturally rooted in the pavement as if it had grown there. "Razor Wind, Junko commended again. The spinning wind funnel battered the tree, whipping its branches about and tearing leaves loose, but not able to move the tree itself. The scythe limbs of the storm weasels nicked the bark, but did no serious damage. That is until the whipping branches began to stab the flying weasels, exsanguinating the creatures in seconds, their dried bodies quickly flung away by the dying wind.

"You had a Jobokko this whole time." Junko couldn't believe it. This girl with literal trash yokai had a vampire tree. It was totally unbelivable. "Why wouldn't you lead with that?"

Kaori shrugged. "Its kind of the family shame. We going to finish this?"

"Eh. Teke Teke, Reap." Junko said without enthusiasm. The half ghost got one good swing on the tree, before it stabbed a branch through its torso. Jobokko couldn't feed on Teke Teke, and the girl couldn't kill the tree. "Is this... did we tie?!"

"I guess so." Kaori replied as the two of them summoned their monsters back to their respective scrolls.

"So. There's a guy down the road offering a Keukegen for trade. That would go with your theme of groddy, nasty yokai." Junko said, packing up her scrolls.

"Thanks. That was almost a nice thing to say."Kaori replied. Then after a moment, "Noodle break?"

"Yes but only if I pay. I assume you're either poor or have gross money or something." But she was smiling when she said it.

It was the beginning of a beautiful frenemiship

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#26  Edited By cbishop

I AM... AFTERLIFE

1987

William Shatner hosted a televised Halloween sceance attempting to herald the return of Harry Houdini from the hereafter, just as the master escape artist had promised he would do. Despite an unexplained warping of the plexiglass table the sceance participants sat at, no return of Houdini was recorded.

his favorite... also an escape artist
his favorite... also an escape artist

2007

However, Harry Houdini is not the only escape artist to boast that they would return from death. There was another. Alberto "Albie" Bach, while an accomplished escape artist, was forever in the shadow of the master, Houdini. In an attempt to stand out from other showmen, and differentiate himself from other acts, Albie often wore costumes for added effect. He'd never admit it to others, but he was inspired to do this by one of his favorite comic book heroes- also an escape artist.

Today was no different. Having prepared a yellow and green costume with a cape to emulate his comic hero (although not imitate, as his lawyer assured him this would get him sued) Albie prepared to undertake one of said hero's deadly escapes. Standing on a small barge in the middle of the river, he used a bullhorn to talk to the small crowd standing on the bridge.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" announced the showman, "This is a trick my comic book hero is known for! For the first time, I will be attempting this escape in real life! My assistants will shackle me, place me upside down in this clear barrel to my right which is filled with water, seal it, and then push it overboard into shark infested waters! Not only will I escape, but I will better the record of Harry Houdini, and stay underwater for a full one hundred minutes before surfacing!"

There was a light smattering of applause, barely audible from the bridge, and a few cheers from drunken frat boys who didn't care whether he succeeded or not. It only reminded Albie that Houdini had spent ninety-one minutes underwater. He was promising nine additional minutes? He shuddered involuntarily.

"And remember, folks! There is a reason I'm doing this on Halloween! Even if this escape is unsuccessful, it will succeed in putting me in the position to finally do what Harry Houdini has never accomplished! That is: to escape from death!"

The frat boys whooped.

Handing the bullhorn to his assistants, they set it aside, and restrained him just as the comic book character had been. First, they cuffed him wrist-to-wrist behind his back. Then ankle-to-ankle, both of those chained to his waist. They chained his upper arms to his waist, and his neck to his ankles. They lifted him, and dumped him uncerimoniously into the barrel. Sealing it quickly with clamp rings, they pushed it over into the water, trailed only by a crane cable, and waited. A portion of the river around them had been fenced with underwater steel netting so they could include the sharks that Albie had wanted for the escape. Fins could be seen converging on the drop zone and then submerging after it.

The sharks did not get Albie. Unfortunately, neither did he escape. When he did not emerge after the alotted one hundred minutes, the crane winched the barrel to the surface, and with it the drowned body of Alberto Bach. His shackles lay at the bottom of the barrel, but he had not been able to get out. The tragic death received a brief mention on the Channel 7 nightly news just before the weather, and really that was just used to segue into a comparison and overview of the career of the better known Harry Houdini. The fact they both died on Halloween and both vowed to return from the grave was mentioned.

2017

While Albie had been an inferior showman to Houdini, he better prepared for this final trick. Indeed, Alberto "Albie" Bach had an advantage that Houdini did not- one he surely would not have approved.

Albie's wife, Helen, was an accomplished black sorceress who gained her powers in her own descent to and return from Hell... a journey she undertook while still bound to this mortal coil. A journey which was successful. So then, when she determined to help her departed husband fulfill his final fantastic escape, she did so with a flare that would have done him proud.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE!"

Gathering four of the world's most accomplished, Helen Bach used Albie's former agent, Dotty Viper, to organize a live, televised Halloween event where they would perform a ritual to bring her husband back from the dead. With the help of the sorceress Melinda the First Lady of Magic, the wizard known as the Masked Magician, occult expert Jason Blaze - the Demon Rider, and the renowned medium Myra Manes, they stood at the five points of a large pentagram, and bade the underworld to once again allow Albie Bach to walk the Earth.

In dramatic fashion, and accompanied by music added from the studio, the pentagram burst into bright white flame, cooled to yellow, and then to orange, and in a flash of green smoke, the soul of Alberto Bach hovered in the center, still clad in the costume in which he had drowned. As all attending gasped, he declard, "I AM... AFTERLIFE!" Thunder rumbled in the distance as he said it.

At the studio, Dotty told the producer, "Are you getting this? Tell me that you're getting this."

"We're getting it. We're getting it!" he answered.

The camera crew continued to film, honestly afraid to move, lest they draw the ghost's attention.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE!" repeated the specter.

Helen, despite her mystical prowess, was still shocked to see her husband. "Albie? Albie... is it you?"

"I AM... AFTERLIFE!" the spirit answered, louder than before.

"Albie! Albie! It's me! Your wife!" she called out, stepping forward.

"No!" Jason Blaze cried. "Don't enter the circle!"

Thunder crashed above them as the ghost roared, "I AM... AFTERLIFE!" A powerful orange blast emanated fom his body, engulfed the five participants and the pentagram, and consumed them in a bright flash. Finally, the spirit dropped to a crouch in the center of the charred circle of grass, orange energy and green smoke trailing off of his body. Standing, he said quietly, but in a deep, echoing voice, "I AM... AFTERLIFE."

The camera crew ran in every direction, but mounted on tripods and cranes, the cameras continued to record. Looking around, then hovering once again, his eyes glowed yellow, the orange energy flashed once more, and he was gone.

The special had been aired at Ten PM, and was caught by bored Halloween celebrants who had settled in for the night, and were waiting on the news. The news picked up the exciting footage for the Eleven PM reports, and Heroes Tonight did the same for the next day's broadcast, announcing the arrival of the mysterious new superpower, Afterlife. Streaming rebroadcast viewing was through the roof.

Dotty could not have been happier, although she was disappointed that Albie didn't contact her to get on the interview circuit while he was hot with the public. While she didn't hear from him, she did hear from interested Hollywood parties, and she parlayed that attention into the Planet of Wrestling Back From the Dead Boneyard Battle.

Afterlife appeared several times over the next few years. Every time, with the same introduction.

The spirit attempted to free Flaming Angel from... Toucan the Terrible...
The spirit attempted to free Flaming Angel from... Toucan the Terrible...

2018

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." When the Paper Tiger was contracted to kill them, he appeared to warn The Fraternity of Heroes. Despite this warning, all of them were killed except the Yeti and Indra. For some reason he did not understand, his power did not succeed against the Paper Tiger. Almost as if it was not allowed.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." He appeared to High Hat and The Woman in White to aid them in defeating the long-lived Phansigar. When he showed up, High Hat disappeared without explanation, but the two spirits were more than enough to disrupt the plans of Phansigar.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." The spirit attempted to free Flaming Angel from the influence of Toucan the Terrible, but failed. The battle cut a swath through the Yuccatan that drew the attention of Idol. The Dragon Man attacked, further strengthened by the toucan god, and again Afterlife felt as if something prevented him from defeating the villain.

Appearing to Nightfire, he warned of an attack by the Doom Rider...
Appearing to Nightfire, he warned of an attack by the Doom Rider...

2019

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." Appearing to Nightfire, he warned of an attack by the Doom Rider, and an impending invasion of the surface world led by Magnamor, the Atlantean Monarch of Magnetism. Afterlife utterly destroyed the Doom Rider in a flash of power like that which had obliterated the "Afterlifers" that had recalled his spirit from the great beyond. Magnamor was swallowed by his own kraken as he retreated.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." Afterlife appeared in Atlanta, obliterating a zombie outbreak, but he was unable to find the source that created them. To the joy of a greatful city, the Atsan Association pledged to step up and help the displaced victims of the outbreak.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." Appearing in New York, Afterlife helped a group of Teenage Mutant Ninja Topiaries put down a vampire uprising. Unfortunately, when Afterlife unleashed his power to obliterate the creatures of darkness, the blast destroyed the Topiaries as well.

2020

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." With the aid of a Nexus Ranger, Afterlife returned the long thought lost William Dunn to our plane of existence, and closed forever the tear in reality between our world and the one he had been transported to during World War II.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." Afterlife intervened in a U.S. space mission, saving Captain Peter Salt and the crew of the space shuttle Clayton from disaster. They landed safely in Houston.

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." In the conflict known as the Disaster of Epic Proportions, when Shahara-Zod teamed with the Sorceress of Longwood to transform the planet Inquell into a living planet like the one of her birth, Afterlife appeared to stop them. His supernatural power overwhelmed and consumed them both. Unfortunately, Inquell could not take the strain of being alive, and exploded just as Shahara-Zod's home planet had done.

2021

"I AM... AFTERLIFE." Alarms in secret government facilities all over the world were tripped when the ghost appeared without warning in the Eighth Circle. He stood over the prone body of Doctor Michael Boom, awaiting a response to his greeting.

When Michael finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Afterlife standing over him. "We... we didn't sense your thoughts. How...?"

"I AM... AFTERLIFE," he said again.

The hero closed his eyes, smiled, nodded, and said, "Of course. What else could there be?"

"We are now... Doctor Eight."

The ghost was silent as he stared at this isolated hero. "AT LAST. SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS." Reaching an ethereal hand out to Boom, he said, "LET THE CONFLICT THAT IS WITHIN YOU CEASE. BE WHOLE, AND AT PEACE, DOCTOR MICHAEL BOOM."

The Doctor opened his eyes, blinked, and sat up. "Yes. Yes, at last, the battle between myself and Cray Zeta Eight ends. We are at peace. We are whole. We are now... Doctor Eight. And it is time we returned to the world." Looking at the spirit, Doctor Eight smiled, and said, "Thank you."

The spirit began to fade away. Just before he disappeared completely, he smiled.

****

Notes:

Story and characters belong to Chris Bishop, copyright 2021.

This story has callbacks to CCC #'s 3, 5, 16, 25, 29, 33, 35, 41, 45, 53, 54, 58, 62, 68, 70, 74, and 97, and most of those callbacks were to give quick endings to some dangling stories. I enjoyed every second of it. :)

OC's in this story appearing for the first time are: Alberto "Albie" Bach (Afterlife), "Afterlifers," Helen Bach, Myra Manes, Jason Blaze (Demon Rider) [mash-up], Planet of Wrestling Back From the Dead Boneyard Battle, unnamed assistants, camera crew, show producer, people in crowd, and drunken frat boys.

Melinda the First Lady of Magic and the Masked Magician are both real stage magicians. I've had their names on my character list for a long time, dreaming of the possibility of licensing them as characters. That has long ago become a dream I've stopped chasing. So, since I needed five mages to die at the appearance of Afterlife, I threw them in as one-offs to knockoff. Jason Blaze - the Demon Rider is a DC/Marvel mashup of Jason Blood/The Demon and Johnny Blaze/The Ghost Rider. Again, just knocking them off. Myra Manes ("my remains") just seemed like a good name for a medium about to die.

The Mister Miracle pic was pulled from the wiki. The Nightfire and Flaming Angel pics were the pics used for those respective contests. The Doctor Eight logo was made in MS Paint. The "I AM... AFTERLIFE" pic is a pic of Big Bang character Dr. Weird that has been heavily... um... doctored in MS Paint. :)

@batkevin74, do you want me to make the voting thread after you call the deadline?

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#27  Edited By cbishop

@wildvine: I'm so glad you found a way to use the Kamaitachi. Most excellent. :)

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#29  Edited By FicOPedia

@batkevin74: You got it. Just call time when we hit the deadline. :)

Edit: Oops, forgot I was in FOP. :}

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@batkevin74: I wrote a lovely story about how Paul McCartney died and young Alan Moore reunited his ghost with his body, but my computer ate it. :(

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I have one day, I'll get onto this after my homework

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Sorry it took so long. (And before you ask: yes, this was a frequent problem for me in school. In fact, it only got worse as I got older.)

Title: Body At Rest, Mind Not So Much

She couldn't remember how long she had been like this. Maybe a month, maybe a century. She couldn't even remember her own name.

Or the name of her killer.

There was a benefit to being flesh and blood. Your consciousness is contained in one place. But when you're a ghost, the shock of dying has caused your mind to become discorporated across the ethereal plane. Sure, those who were strong-willed or more accepting of their demise had far less trouble with this, but for most people it took immense focus just to do the simplest of things. Some never even managed to do anything, just existing as an emotional force with little self-awareness, lashing out in anger but never quite understanding why they're even doing it.

What she did know was that someone was now living in the house that she used to live in. At least, she was pretty sure that she had lived here. Why else would it feel so familiar to her?

She had no idea why this person was here. If it was good or bad that they were. Perhaps if she could concentrate on this person more clearly, she could get a better hold on herself.

If she really concentrated on the presence of a living person, she could make things happen around them in the mortal plane. At first just little things, like causing small objects to move around, or making tapping noises throughout the house. And the more she did things like that, the easier it became to concentrate. And if she concentrated enough, she might be able to do more. She wasn't even sure how she knew this, but she definitely knew it.

While she had know way of knowing it, she had been concentrating on the person in her house for little more than a few weeks. So far she could tell it was a young woman. At times she could almost see a face. She didn't know what, but something was just drawing her to this living soul. And whatever it was, it definitely wasn't anger or hatred or anything like that.

She started to concentrate. The woman was outside, in the yard. As her mind became more focused, the wind around this person started to become stronger. Leaves scattered throughout the grass were picked up and thrown around in the breeze. Nearby birds started flapping their wings aggressively in reaction to the astral force. The air started to have a severe chill to it.

Then she heard a voice.

"H-hello?" The voice said. "Is... is there somebody there?"

That voice...

She KNEW that voice somehow.

Slowly she started to get an idea of the person's face. Dark brown hair... hazel eyes... nose, ears, everything was coming into view.

She wasn't entirely sure how, but she knew this person had been significant to her in life. But not remembering who she herself had actually been made it difficult to know how. Could this woman have been her sister? Her best friend? Her lover? Or even her daughter?

All she was certain of was that she definitely didn't want to scare this person away. It would be better to try and build her awareness in smaller ways that would not frighten this person. She had to know who it was... Who SHE, herself, was...

And what had happened to her.

WRITER'S NOTE: So this is a little something that I threw together quickly. You know how there's always somebody watching a ghost movie going 'why do the ghosts always spend so much time fooling around before killing?' or 'why doesn't the ghost just tell them the name of who killed them?' Well, this is my theory on why. Sadly, I know this won't shut any of those people up, but I still thought I would submit it.

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#33  Edited By cbishop
@steve40l said:

I have one day, I'll get onto this after my homework

Bzzzzt! Incorrect, sir! You have 7.5 hours. We are on Sydney, Australia time for this one! :{

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@batkevin74: I wrote a lovely story about how Paul McCartney died and young Alan Moore reunited his ghost with his body, but my computer ate it. :(

I... I think that's the actual story. :^O

;)

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@julie_hume: I think with a little expansion this could be an entry as is :)

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Ok 30 minutes on the clock

A new resident

She was starting to get tired of the random creaking sounds she was hearing. At first she thought it was the floor disliking her own footsteps. But it became very apparent that it happened everywhere. She started to feel less and less comfortable for reasons she couldn't explain. And it wasn't just her either. Whenever she invited a friend over (which was rarely, considering that this house was pretty remotely placed) they also felt uncomfortable. More sounds started come from random places in the house, like a low grumbling. And sometimes even more high pitched sounds. Once she was walking down a hallway when she heard a shelf fall over. She ran to the spot the noise came from, and was surprised but not surprised to see the shelf was perfectly in tact. She figured she just wasn't getting enough rest, and so walked up the stairs and went to bed. Though she felt incredibly refreshed, nothing much changed. Besides the note she found on her cup of coffee. Saying

I'm still here

She didn't remember anyone who never left her house, and didn't look into the house enough to know it's previous owner. But she still hand that tired feeling you can't quite shake off after just waking up. She finished her cup of coffee and raised her head, prepared to get out of the chair, with the cup in her hands. She had just slid the chair only an inch when a boo sound came from the right side of her ear. It reminded her a lot of the boys who would try to to scare her, correction, try to scare everybody. Including each other. But the voice was to deep. She fell over and started to hear a faint chuckling. And after hearing what sounded like spitting and blowing with your mouth closed, she looked up to see a floating blue figure. He was rolling up in laughter with his buttoned shirt and sweat pants. Though he wasn't dressed like it, he was a nice looking man. And for some reason, his transparent figure with a blue hew to it. And the fact he was floating, gave her some comfort.

"Uh... who are you?"

"Oh, I'm just your average ordinary ghost!"

"Ya sure..."

"Seriously, don't mind me.... unless I want you to, then please mind me. I've been lonely for a while now. You ignoring me would be most unpleasant."

He had summoned a ball and was now tossing it up and down. Then looked to the side, and then the other side.

"Ok bye now"

And as he turned into a small ball before disappearing, he was reciting the lyrics of we'll meet again.

Sorry for the short story. I've got to go to school though. Thanks for reading.

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Okay, folks, we're past time. I'll have the voting thread up shortly.