In the mist, as nightfall comes, darkness and shadows grow. Myths come to life, things human minds never pondered as real. From the blossoming shadows grow the wicked, evil descending upon the innocent.
The things no one knew existed seek out souls who had previously also thought of them as unknown. Two humans who thought they fit a normal mold learned that normal didn’t exist and supernatural was an actual term fitting their new existence.
Sometimes those things growing in the darkening mist are exactly what they appear, scary and willing to kill.
Painstakingly, grief gripped her like a knife, plunging instantly into her chest. The pain seared into her stomach, filling her with nausea and rage. As she stood on the proverbial edge, trying to blink away the madness trying to consume her soul, she thought about the ancient spirit who did the killing. Vengeful spirits needed to see a side of revenge in humans, something Jen didnít think about until that moment, when she could think of nothing else.
A savage torrent of insane emotions filled her thoughts, hitting upon all she knew about mortal death. As she stood in silence, her mind slowly taking in her surroundings, the blood, her shock was leading her mind. She couldnít cry, she could no longer scream, her voice was nothing; silence invaded the trees around her where her feet werenít moving.
She gazed up at the trees, bodies of loved ones stuck to them by their necks. Perplexed at the notion, she thought about the fact that he hadnít killed her or Morgan. It was about time to move on from their former resting place, Morgan was trying her best to snap Jen out of her trance, slowly she turned her head in Morganís direction and nodded. Not saying a word, she pulled out a hair tie and put up her hair, it was going to be a long day and she needed to see.
The war was on.
The only question she had was, where to begin? It wasn't in her true nature to fight back or to exact a blow on someone, let alone a ghost. That would prove difficult. They needed a plan. She was mad as hell and didnít care how it would get done, just that it would. She and her friend were smart and young, two components that carried a lot of weight when fighting for life. Just like the wind blew, she felt herself changing into someone else, someone who fought for justice and life, who survived things. Jen had decided.
With little sun left in her heart and even less in the distance, she knew what she knew, it had to be good enough. Proverbial blood would be shed or real blood would be shed, it didnít matter. Dying was no longer something she feared. Her adrenaline was in overdrive and paramount to what they needed to do. Dying was what it was, a finalization of what Jen knew to be true, she didnít care about living any more anyway. She had no one to share it with, he was gone. The maddening numbness temporarily filled the new hollow spot inside her.