[sapphirelion]

username: sapphirelion
name: Elintine (pronounced: el-en-teen)
do they believe in ghosts?:
I used to think that I was the only one who had a face like mine. Skeletal, leering, scary. No matter what I did, I could never get someone else to look at me without fear in their eyes.

One day it had just been to much for my little kit heart, and I ran into the deepest part of the forest near the small town I wandered in. I ran and ran until my legs couldn’t take it anymore and I fell, stumbling through the underbrush into a small body of water. The wet tang filled my mouth and nose when my face hit it first shocking me into backing out of the water to breathe. With tears steaming down my cheeks and my hair covering my face, I thought I was alone. That is until I felt a cool touch on my cheek, wiping away my tears. I didn’t want the loving gesture to stop so I didn’t push the hand away, in fact I leaned into it despite the coolness of its touch. It’s the warmest hand I have ever felt that wasn’t my own. As the tears ebbed in their flow, the hand moved to push back my hair and I panicked, trying to pull my head away before they could push me away in fear once they saw my face as many had done before.

The gentle hand stopped and sighed, “Child, I wish only to help you. I’ve already seen your face in the village and while they chose to shun you I couldn’t help but notice your beauty, why must you hide it so?”

I slowly looked to the pool of water to try and see what this voice was talking about. Beautiful? I didn’t understand what this person could have seen that literally nobody else would have chosen to acknowledge. I still only saw the face of a scared, and creepy, child. Feeling angry that this stranger would choose to mock me and follow me this far away from the village no less to do so, I moved my hair from my face and glared at the stranger, for once trying to look like the frightening creature people thought me to be. But I stopped for a skeletal face was looking into mine, concern edging its eyes and mouth. A ghost? I looked to the water again but only saw my own face and a slight haze next to me. It must be a ghost, but then why does it look like me?

The ghost spoke again to me, “Child, don’t worry, you aren’t dead like I am.”

Who said that I thought I was dead? Certainly not me!

But the ghost continued on, “This is just how we look when we pass on, we look more like bones in design.”

“Then why do I look like you? You’ve already said that I’m not dead, so what am I?!?”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you?” This ghost was acting like I should already know the answer but seemed to realize that I really didn’t know it. “Your markings define your destine! Have you ever heard of anyone else besides you who could talk to ghosts? There has only been one besides yourself in the last 100 years.”

I sniffled and wiped a stray tear away, “Yeah, and who’s that?”

“You really don’t know? Well I suppose no one would have told you, but who else could it have been?” It waited as if hoping I would now know the answer, “Why it’s the Grimm Reaper dear, you are marked to take over when you have been taught by the current holder of that name. Isn’t that exciting!”
extras: (optional)

[rabidlynxeon]

username:
-Killian
name:
Nathan
do they believe in ghosts?:
Yes (adding more)
extras:

[ｃｒｕｍｐｌｅｄ ｗｉｎｇｓ]

wip, maybe res? if i have time

username: crumpled wings
name:
do they believe in ghosts?:
extras: (optional)

[.summer]

username: midnight08
name: Poe (female)
do they believe in ghosts?: yes, ever since she was 12 years old. she invited all her friends over for a sleepover, and they played Ouija board. throughout the night things became scarier and scarier, to the point where dark red scratch marks appeared on her neck from nothing, and someone would burst out crying at a random time for no reason. For their final question, they asked if ghosts were real, to which the board responded with "F-O-R-E-V-E-R". they quickly said goodbye and put the board away, but things stayed the same the rest of the night and to this day she always has dark red scratches on her neck. in fact its become so normal she feels comforted by them.
extras: although she experienced this scary event, she still loves everything paranormal

[76heart]

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the yawning grave - lord huron
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hornet - hollow knight ost ● sealed vessel -
hollow knight ost ● familiar - agnes obel
blood on my name - the brothers bright
providence - poor man's poison ● le seine and i
i'm not calling you a liar - florence + the machine
stretch your eyes - agnes obel ● if only - fiction
plane ● bones - msmr ● haunt - bastille
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76heart ● essybelle salem ● she/her ● 2,038 words
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a lot of inspiration for this entry is from the character known as lotte in little witch academia, with hints
of the hollow knight, because the magnificent design screams that game, and even though i'm only able
to watch it on youtube currently, that game is one of my favorites and i just love it and this kal so much
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if the coding is messed up, here is how it's meant to look
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xxxGhosts, the whispers of this world that so few can see, and fewer can hear. Of course she believed in them, how couldn't she? How could she not, when they were the lifeblood of her family, they key piece to what set them apart from all others? How could she turn a blind eye to them, to their existence, when they encompassed all she knew, and changed what she saw as reality? She would be nothing more than a mere fool if she denied them, if she didn't believe they were real. Ghosts and spirits were the one thing that were a certainty, the one thing she knew o be truly true, and what she could count on like the sun rising each morn, even if the sight of it was covered and kept hidden by graying clouds. She had to believe in them, as her family had since well before anyone now alive was born. They had believed since her first ancestor had taken their very first breath, and they were immediately greeted with a ghost, and she wasn't going to be the first to be foolish enough to say she didn't. Even those who had tried to deny it knew, deep down inside, that they were one of the truest things their were, even if they were too scared to admit it. She knew better, though, Essybelle knew they were real. After all, how couldn't she when she spoke with them every day, and that ability was the pride of her family, of their blood?

xxxFor thousands centuries that secret, that knowledge had been passed down to each member of the family, passed down to her, so such a skill would never be forgotten, and allowed to turn to nothing but mist, and become one of the whispers it allowed her family to hear. Her family had kept the scroll that contained it all for so long, and they would continue to keep it safe until the end of time; it wasn't something they could afford to lose. Her family could commune with ghosts, sprits, the lingering whispers, and the scroll was what allowed them to do it, by containing the faded notes of a song that revealed where they hide, and weakened the barriers between their two identical worlds. It was something she was more than a little proud of, even if it was information that only her family was allowed to know. They didn't want to find out what would happen if someone who did not possess the ability already tried to use the enchantment laced song, and they did not want to risk it falling into the wrong paws of someone who did. Her family, and her family alone had been given the gift of it, been chosen as the guardians of the scroll, and they had to protect it, especially from those who would use it with darkness, and terrible intent in their rotten heart.
xxxNaturally, being the youngest of her blood, once her parents were gone, that was a responsibility that would fall solely onto her shoulders, and it was one she took quite seriously, and did not intend to shirk. It was an honor she would be most unwise to forget, ignore, or neglect, and she knew that quite well; it was a prestigious privilege she reminded herself of each day, and one that filled her with a strong sense of pride. It was one she enjoyed too- admittedly a little more than she probably should, given it was something to take incredibly seriously, and not mess around with in the slightest, as she was often reminded in her younger years when she just wanted to play with them all-, and certainly one she could never in a million years forget; it was her purpose in life, and various sprites and sprits encompassed the majority of her friends, and how could she ever forget them?

xxxIt had been a little odd at first once she had become old enough to learn her family's secret, but once she had, it had explained a lot of things too- although, granted, there wasn't exactly much to explain, given she had learned it very young, when she was still a small kit and didn't have much life for it to explain, and she didn't really understand much of anything then either, but that was besides the point. Once she learned it though, and got the notes of the little humming song right after several failed attempts at trying, and her world lit up in a new light, she finally understood why she had always seen little spirits, and flashes of color where, and when everyone else could not. She could hear the voices of the small ghostly forms she had seen before, and knew how to respond, and quickly became fast friends with them all. She learned, at last, why her family had such an odd assortment of items, and why the bottom floor of their home was filled with all of them, and why it all looked so ancient. They explained that some spirits would latch themselves onto an object after their physical death, and that it would become their home, their anchor, and that other times, there would simply be a sprite, a tiny form of otherworldly magic and essence that lived within an artifact, and how her family collected the items they called home under the guise of a shop that never seemed to be open to the outside world, one that always, from the outside, was shrouded in dark, and lit with dim candles that hardly provided any light. She used to spend so many hours, sometimes days even, sitting in the bottom floor of their home getting to know all the sprites and spirits they had managed to collect and keep safe. They told her their stories, and she told them her own. They told her about their lives, or their creation if they did not have one before, and of all they had seen. One sprite was attached to candle that had belonged to a king in the medieval years, and told her how he had seen the kings and queens of the age come and go, and of all the ruling families that changed as they were usurped or married. Another, one less friendly that she had coaxed to talk, inhabited the pen of a writer, and was there throughout the writing of each book, and when she asked her parents for the book, as she read it, he told her what the author had done for each page, and of the struggles they had, and what the story could have been. Another spirit, a kindly old woman, remaining in the picture frame of her family, had the sweetest stories, little tales and tidbits of her life, and that of the family she left behind, the faces in the picture. The old kalon had been the one to comfort her most as she grew older and had her first heartbreak, and embraced her as if she were her own. She couldn't feel the old woman against her fur, as she wasn't one of the sprites and did not have a semi physical form that could fade in a blink, but she could imagine it, and the gesture meant the world, as her parents were often gone on trips to gather items containing pieces of souls or ghostly beings within, or too distracted by what they for her to receive comfort from them. She knew her parents loved her, and she loved them of course, but sometimes, her ghost family, the one she cared for daily, was there for her more, and she liked them better. Her favorite one though, her closest friend, and the one she went to first for anything since she had been a child, was the little sprite that inhabited the old lamp post outside their home. His name was Flitwick, and he was always so happy and bright, so cheerful and full of passion and hope, and he always made her smile, without fail. His cheer was just contagious, and he was her favorite little flame. He was a fire sprite, one shaped like a ball with dark holes for eyes in his most common state, with the ability to shift forms, and turn into a smaller ball, or into a dancing flame. He told her he didn't like becoming a candle, that he didn't want to burn too strongly and hurt someone, and she found that so incredibly sweet, and it only caused her to love him more. To this day, the only time she had ever seen him in his elemental form was after she had reached a breaking point outside her home on the empty street corner a few years ago, and cried to him about how she felt so alone with her parents almost always gone, and how it hurt so much that they would leave her there alone with only the spirits to keep her company, and that she was scared they would miss her birthday. He had been so angry at that, and his flames had nearly burned down the glass that kept him in enclosed. The edges of the glass were still blackened from that, and he was still ignoring or barely acknowledging her parent and it had only brought her closer to him. He cared so strongly, felt with all he was, and while he said he didn't like to be fire, it was what he was; he was strong, passionate, with a danger attached to what drew her to him, and like light in the darkness, lighthouses guiding ships home from stormy seas, he was her beacon of hope, her guiding light, her closest friend, and her bright home amongst a street that always had so little light, and a shadowy gloom that seemed forever cast around it, keeping those who did not know of their secret, out. It was also just incredibly wonderful to have a friend that was the epitome of innocent light, when she felt stuck in the gloom. He also didn't tell her things she already knew and had heard thousands of times, and she appreciated that; it was comforting to know she had a friend who knew she knew more than she let on, and understood a lot more than others knew. He also didn't tell her to keep her ego in check when it got a bit too loud, which she appreciated too, even if there was a change that he didn't know what an ego was; he had an energy of youth, of youngness, of just brightness, and gave nearly everyone the benefit of the doubt. The other spirits and ghostly friends told her that enough already. She also really liked the stories he told of what he had seen, and he taught her that sometimes, it was best to just sit back and watch as the world went by, rather than try to get her paws in and turn it herself.

xxxShe knew that people could become ghosts too, mere shadows of their former selves, but that wasn't the kind of ghost she conversed with, or at least not the kind she liked to. She could talk with other kalons, those who didn't know what she was and the honor she carried within her blood, but she didn't always want to. The living could be terrible, ignorant, cruel, blind. She spoke with spirits, souls of the dead, those who had not fully passed into the darkened void, and still lingered in the world she walked in. Some of them could be quite grumpy, or rude, while others were gentle and kind, or soft and pure, but they weren't cruel, and didn't ignore the obvious. While they could still be bitter or resentful, they were able to see where they had gone wrong, and acknowledge it, and didn't push the blame on others, or create scapegoats out of fear, or do so many other horrible things because of it, and that was exactly why she loved them, why she chose the dead as her best friends, and all of that was exactly why she believed in ghosts.

[Birdy]

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmark

[tenderly]

username:the wind sings
name:giovanni
do they believe in ghosts?:
Giovanni's ghosts were her only friends and yet her curse. They paid her frequent visits at night, standing silenty next to the place she slept, whispering things into her ear. They spoke horrible things, things that scared her, urging her to kill. The next day, she could not explain where she gets the irresistable thirst for blood, it drove her crazy. At first she helped herself to the blood of small animals, but after a while that wasn't enough for giovanni to feel satisified. The ghosts now walked beside her, even during the day. Unwilling to succumb to their callings, she fled far away from home in search for a cure. She travelled alone. She made a wrong decision to indulge herself in the dark arts to try and find a spell to break her curse. When she finally realized that she looked in the wong direction, her soul was already tainted, she turned into a monster. She realized she could not turn back to who she was before. For every inch of time that slips away, she feels she's getting closer to death. She cries at night, wishing for a saviour, for a miracle, but nothing responds to her calls. Her ghosts trailed behind her, grinning, waiting, oh so long that they have waited, for her to claim her own life.
extras: (optional)

[La Volpe]

XXX
username|| la volpe
name|| paura
gender|| female
do they believe in ghosts?|| of course, I wouldn't I wouldn't have any friends otherwise heh...
I'm always looking for people to scout out places which home my friends, prehaps you want to help me out? I pay well...

XXXXXXXXXX

I get others to hunt down haunted areas of Italy, I would do it myself but I simply do not have the time. Besides I can persuade others to do my dirty work with a little coin, it makes me laugh how little bribing they need. If you desire to work for me you can find me in the backstreets, trust me you will find me.

I say that ghosts are my friends as I'm able to talk to them, others are afraid of me because of that. That's why I befriend ghosts, they are more friendly and sympathetic in my eyes.

[Trphlthdl]

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NAME - TORI GOOD

GENDER - FEMALE

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Tori never was daunted by the possibility of ghosts in the old rotting house
on top of the hill- mostly because she didn't believe there was a
possibility. That was what landed her in the entryway of the rotting two-story
hating the fact that she'd been roped into something so, so stupid. It smelled
of mold, or at least she assumed that was mold, and everything was damp. At
least she only had to spend an hour in this wretched place.

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Dear Fellow Traveler - Sea Wolf
The Woods - Hollow Coves
Take Me Somewhere Nice - Mogwai
The Night We Met - Lord Huron

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A cold breeze swept through the home, causing her to shudder. It was early
august yet and- something dropped in the living room. She was sure of it.
She crept forwards and couldn't believe her eyes when she saw a pale,
elderly kalon sweeping up shards of glass. "Ma'am," Tori said, "are you in need
of assistance?" Though as it turned it seemed less and less like the kalon she saw
earlier, sharp teeth protruding from it's mouth and saliva dripping on the floor.

ghost story

ghost story

ghost story

Perhaps it was time for her to leave, perhaps...

The creature rushed at her, and in a moment of panic she grabbed at an iron fire poker, holding it out in front of her. The poker went through it's chest, and it screeched before disintegrating. Tori stood there for a moment, shaking as adrenaline rushed through her veins. The fire poker dropped to the ground with a clang, and Tori was out of the house in seconds. She rushed past her classmates, those who dared her to enter in the first place, and down the street towards her home.

Once she had regained some of her previous calm, she decided to figure out what exactly she'd seen. It couldn't have been a ghost, there had to be some sort of explanation. Everywhere she went though, told her it was a ghost. Told her how to kill it. Told her how to...

ghost story

ghost story

Tori shouldered her backpack as she closed the door of her pickup. Man, she hated vampires. They were such a pain. She eyed the mansion ahead of her, looking as if it came out of a horror movie. A place the would have thunderstorms year round. She pulled a wooden stake out of her backpack. This one was ash, nice and sharp. Small too, and weighted for throwing. Perfect.

[Mylesthedog]

username: Mylesthedog
name: Abria
do they believe in ghosts?:Yes, she has had a fascination ever since she was little about ghosts and the paranormal. She read every book in the library about, ghosts, demons, and paranormal activity.
extras: (optional) Always carries a small vile of Holy Water, just to be safe.