The ghast was translucent and dressed like a Dickensian understudy which was common for the area. One too many factories and one too many cold winters meant that whole families went under and now roamed about trying to feel mortal again.
This one in particular was called Old Morris and had a thing for waiting right behind you and slightly to the left. He kept his post around what was once his favourite watering hole and had since become an upmarket cocktail bar.
The regulars knew him well enough to have a spare shot on hand to keep him occupied but newcomers and visitors alike left shrieking at his appearance and persistent presence. It wasnt that he was one of the worst looking, far from it, he was too human to bear.
It was easier to accept the ghasts as a bunch of mindless corpses than to consider the human actions ths t had killed them in the first place. Nobody wants to look at actual dead children, they'd rather watch little bones dance like fae-magicked toys.
This one in particular was called Old Morris and had a thing for waiting right behind you and slightly to the left. He kept his post around what was once his favourite watering hole and had since become an upmarket cocktail bar.
The regulars knew him well enough to have a spare shot on hand to keep him occupied but newcomers and visitors alike left shrieking at his appearance and persistent presence. It wasnt that he was one of the worst looking, far from it, he was too human to bear.
It was easier to accept the ghasts as a bunch of mindless corpses than to consider the human actions ths t had killed them in the first place. Nobody wants to look at actual dead children, they'd rather watch little bones dance like fae-magicked toys.
No comments:
Post a Comment