A ghost story Show content
An overworked maid stole an emerald necklace from the dresser of her freshly dead mistress, the day before she was let go by the estate.
She had been warned. This mistress dabbled in the dark arts, and had made deals with the dead, so that she could curse the living. All the servants were warned: Take nothing as you leave, or surely Mistress will send you to a premature hell.
Thus began the Mistress's obsession. She gathered the souls who owed her loyalty in exchange for favors granted like a currency between life and death. She gathered them and showed them the scent of the maid.
"Make her suffer for disrespecting the dead. Make her regret her sin of greed!" screeched the phantom.
Then the Reaper appeared in a trail of mist. She had been expecting him. The Reaper only guided the most important of the dead.
"At last, you are here," she muttered coldly. "You're late. I have been dead for several days!"
The Reaper slowly nodded.
"But before you take me to heaven, you must wait here for me. A disgusting thief has stolen my jewelry. She must be punished!"
The Reaper held their scythe aloft. Their voice bellowed with the tones of a thousand dead choir boys. "No, woman. In life, you held ultimate power over hundreds of lives. This is the one power you shall not have. You cannot go back and haunt the poor."
And then the Reaper turned away, leaving the Mistress shouting and begging after them in their trail mist, bound forever to the castle she died in.