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soulsucker
<_Dan_> I made a potato-launcher once, I suppose I could make the tube a bit wider...
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ronebofh> you just made it so you could huff the ether...
<_Dan_> heh.
<bivaughn> Man, ghosts are ethereal. I bet ghost-huffing is some sort of sexual fantasty somewhere in the world.
She had died.
She had died fifteen years ago. An accident, a slip in the tub, a knock on the head, cerebral hemorrhage. And now her spirit hung around this bathroom, this house. I could see her ghost, trying futilely to stand up.
The last time i felt the Need, i had traveled to Austria. It was a small town half an hour out of Innsbruck; the house had a poltergeist that kept arranging things in threes, and breaking what objects existed in a lesser quantity. It was not the sort of spirit i dealt with normally, but i could not ignore the Need, nor resist the begging of the house's owners. "You are a famous ghost hunter," they said. Fame? I had hoped to gain some notoriety, in order to more easily quench the Need. Notoriety is light; fame is glare. I do not wish to blind anyone — as it is, we are dealing with things that cannot be seen under normal conditions. But i am digressing.
Like any young man, i was filled with urges and desires. She was so beautiful... and she ran from me, not in fear, but playfully, teasingly. And she slipped and fell and rolled down the hillside, crying out and giggling at the same time, until she came to the abandoned well.
I still don't know if she broke her neck or if she drowned. All i know is that, when i came back to mourn one night, i saw her ghost, spinning and rolling all around the hole that took her life. And i broke into the University's library, to find a ritual that would let me talk to her. What did i know of magic? Nothing. And yet i returned the following night armed with high confidence and a drawing spell which would calm her tumbling long enough to let her talk to me.
I lit the candles, cut my hand, and started chanting. Soon enough, her gyrations tightened as her path spiraled towards the center where i was, until she hovered in front of me, still visibly giggling even though she made no sound. I could almost smell her...
... and i breathed her in. I inhaled her essence. I hadn't meant to; it just happened. And as i finished, i felt my loins spasm and pulse. It was my first orgasm.
I don't know why the ritual worked that way; perhaps that's why it's magic. It doesn't work the same way for everyone. I think it was my desire for her that was still there that caused the spell to twist in that direction.
Now i am older, and the Need strikes me more seldom. But, fittingly, ghosts are fewer and far between. I find myself now in a mansion in Asunción. The Austrian poltergeist was, to put it bluntly, a quickie; here, the woman was naked at death, smothered with a pillow by her would-be lover. Every little detail helps. I have been left alone in the house to accomplish my task; i wonder what people would think if they knew that my work was driven, not by altruism or even a greater sense of purpose, but by one of the basest urges a man can have.
I started taking my clothes off.
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-- Schwa ---
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also, you scare me.
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Ahem
than a man in the depths of an ether binge, ghosthuffer.
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Re: Ahem
i mean, it's good... but it's freaky.
(you know, skip... if you were a man, i'd kick you.)
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Nice work, you pervert. Now write something erotic involving goalie gloves *grin*.
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God damn I miss t.b.
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