Dr. Deryn Peters

~~ 

Dr. Deryn Peter's paperwork flew out of his hands and onto the floor, at the call of his name. "Yes, what of it? He demanded as he hurried around the corner, upon seeing the young man on the floor, he quickly jogged over, and reached into his black clasp bag with a red cross embroidered on the side. 

" What happened?" He asked, as he shouldered his way past the young woman who questioned him earlier, and an old lady to get to his new patient. Upon closing in on his target, Dr. Peters saw the possibly once healthily colored  cheeks were sickly pale, with a slight sheen of sweat. He bent down, and took out a thermometer, after sticking it in the lad's mouth, he took it out, examined it, saw no fever. His ginger eyebrows drew in with confusion, as he checked the man's pulse. Fine. He took out a sphygmomanometer and checked the blood pressure. 120 over 80 and less than 140 over 90. 

" What is it,  young man?" The old woman asked, her brown eyes gleaming with worry for the man. He guessed it was her son.

" He seems fine, probably stress, does he have any mental illnesses, Ma'am?" He asked the woman, the younger one, who interrogated him earlier looked at, with a hungry gleam in her eyes.

" I think-" The reporter, Min-SEO moon, the one who so rudely interrogated him, was almost certainly going to say something stupid was wisely, in Deryn's opinion interrupted by the old woman. 

" If you are assuming he's my son..." The woman stated, before looking at Min-seo Moon. 

" I think it's a ghost haunting him!" She squealed, sounding like a child who was just awarded a big bag of candy. Her eyes gleaming, as the old woman's eyes lit up too. He groaned internally. 

"Oh mon dieu il y a deux d'entre eux." He murmured, taking his sunglasses off to drag a hand down his weary face, quickly replacing them. He seized the man's underarms and hauled him into a sitting position, and called for the receptionist. " Emmenez cet homme dans sa chambre, il a besoin d'eau, de repos et de glace." He turned to the receptionist, before realizing how he phrased his sentence. "Take this man to his room, he needs water, rest and ice." He said carefully, his French accent heavier now than it was before. 

"Yes, sir." They grabbed the adolescent male and half carried, half dragged him off.

" So you are French!"

He heard the voice of the 'fearless explorer of the paranormal' as he turned again, he put on a mask of annoyance and said, "Yes. Yes I am."

I DID A POST WITH THE HORROR ASPECTS!

~~~ 

Eyes flicker open, but they are not the emerald green color that they were before. They are now a stormy grey. The boy sits up and looks at the wall, then he swings his legs off the side of the bed he was resting on to stand up. He wordlessly walks over to thebookshelf and pulls a book off the shelf. He opens it to the first page, it's a journal that he remembers fondly. He thumbs through the pages until he comes across a page with scribbles in quick handwriting and splattered with blood.

October 3, 1984

I need to leave, this placce, it drove him insane. It's calling to me too. They're all dead. Beheading. Stabbed. Shot. Dismembered. Eaten. Suffocated. Drowned. Buried alive. I can't stop hearing their screams. I'm the last one. He'll find me. He'll kill me. I hope he does it soon. Don't trust them. I hear him. He's trying to find me. Get me

The rest of the page is covered in blood. The boy hears a sound and he looks up to see Theodore looking at him with a look of suprise and fear.

"What-" The spirit inhabiting Oliver grins like a cat that's cought a mouse before his eyes turn back to normal and he goes slightly limp. Theodore backs away and hits the bookshelf.

Oliver looks up at him with suprise, then he looks at the book in his lap and screams. He tosses the book across the room and bolts away from it, hyperventalating. "Why was-" he starts but stops, fear cluuds his brain as he shakes it to try to clear it. "Where am-" The image of his hand holding the bloodstained book in his hands flashes in his mind. He fights the urge to empty his stomach onto the carpet. "What happened?" He finally gets out as he presses his back against the wall.

~~~

Yup... that happened... =P

Min-seo Moon--

The receptionists carried the boy away. Min-seo nodded to Deryn, who hesitated, then followed her and Rosa as they walked to their rooms. 

"Bon-jour, mon amour! Par les-" Min-seo teased. Deryn flushed pink.

"You sound very, very American." He sniffed. Rosa snorted.

"You think? La vérité est que je ne fais que taquiner, Dr. Peters." Min-seo said. Dr. Peters stiffened, and glanced at her in a sharp, shocked way. Rosa burst into laughter.

"You know French?" Deryn asked. He looked as though he were considering bolting.

"Je le sais assez bien." the two arrived at Rosa's room and saw her off. They walked for a few paces, Min-seo smugly silent.

"So you know that you called me your... love just now?" he asked. Min-seo stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth to respond. He turned back to look at her. She shook her head and smirked. 

"I was throwing you off your rhythm," she said. She came to her room and darted inside.

"Good night, Dr. Peters," she joked, and shut the door in his face. 

Phoebe~

I grip the steering wheel and peer into the blizzard pressing up against the windows of my rental car. I know I should pull over, since I can't see anything, but then who knows how long I'd be stuck there? So I keep driving, very slowly. Suddenly, I see a building loom off to my right. It looks... creepy would really be the only word for it. I smirk. My kinda place. I make a sharp turn and somehow manage to pull up to the building without crashing into anything. I get out, shivering at the sudden cold, then swing my bookbag over my shoulder and lock the car. I sprint towards the building and find the door unlocked, thank goodness. I walk in, and find myself in a lobby. The building is a hotel. I'm a little bit disappointed, until I realize I won't have to sleep on the floor, which would've been my plan if it was just an abandoned old building. I walk up the the front desk and sign my name in the book the receptionist slides towards me. I pick up my room key, then find an armchair to sit in while I wait for curfew, which the receptionist said is ten, and will be "strictly enforced". Yeah, sure. How?

As I sit, a girl with black and blue hair walks over to my general area. I nod in greeting. She says, 

"'Scuse me, I'm Min-seo Moon, explorer and investigator of the unusual." Oh, wow, big words.

"So, what, a ghost hunter?" I say, waggling my fingers eerily. "Oh, and I'm Phoebe."

"You could say that. Except I use methods that work." We shake hands, then she starts talking to the man sitting nearby, who seems like he doesn't believe in ghosts. After they finish speaking, Min-seo waves, then walks off. She seems alright. I notice that it's almost ten, so I'd better get to my room. I'm tired anyway, so maybe I'd test the rule tomorrow night. That is, If I'm still here.

I open the door to my room and look around. It's sparsely furnished, with a bed, a desk, a booksheld, and a wardrobe. I see that there's also a door leading out to a balcony. Cool. I drop my bookbag on the ground at the foot of the bed, then lie down. I'm asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow.

I'm woken by a cold draft. I sit up and fumble for the light on my watch. 2:21 am. I see the draft is coming from the balcony door, which is ajar. That's weird. I'm positive it was shut when I came in. I get up to close it, shivering, then turn to go back to the bed. I jump. Standing by the foot of the bed is a tall, silvery, humanoid figure. It's floating an inch or two off the ground. It's face is blank and unemotional. I make eye contact with it, and it smiles. It's eyes stay the same, but it's mouth stretches into an eerie grin. It raises it's arm and points toward the balcony. The door creaks open again. Fighting the urge to scream or yell for help, I take my watch off my wrist and throw it at the spirit, if that's what it is. The watch sails right through it. It points again, more insistently. Now that I know it's insubstantial, I feel more confident.

"What?" I say, my voice only shaking a little bit. "You want me to go out there? Dude, it's freezing. I didn't bring a jacket. Also, it's 2 am. You're nuts. Can I sleep now? Like I said, it's 2 am." I feel a little crazy talking to a ghost- then again, I feel a little crazy even seeing a ghost- but then the grin vanishes, replaced by a look of vague displeasure. It vanishes in a wisp of smoke, leaving the room darker. "Weird," I say nonchalantly. Even so, I have trouble getting back to sleep.

Sebastian~

I'm not used to following their rules. On the high seas, I was bound neither by laws nor by judgement, and I knew that every action was of my own accord. Still, I have nothing to gain by defying the only rule this place seems to have, so at 9:55 I head to my room.

On the way there, I stop to ask the receptionist about something that's been bothering me since I got here.

"Hey, can you tell that woman to shut her trap for Pete's sake?"

"Woman, sir?"

"The young woman who's been singing her lungs out for the past hour. Don't you hear it?" I point in the direction it's been coming from, which also happens to be the direction my room is in.

"The west wing? I'm afraid you're the only one in the west wing, sir."

It now hits me that the singing is no longer audible, and ceased to be so the moment I turned to speak with the receptionist. I give him a steely glare, one that screams this isn't over, and turn back around.

And it starts right up again.

Are my ears playing tricks on me? I can't be sure; I haven't been sure of anything lately. I recall the woman in the lobby going on about ghost hunting or something of that sort, and I am reminded of tall tales my crew used to whisper to each other on quiet nights. I never believed them, but this place... it reeks of the old and eldritch.

Does that mean those stories are...?

No.

I finally reach my door, in a remote section of the hotel even more unkempt than average. Strange they couldn't send me somewhere nicer, with such vacancy and all. The singing is louder than ever now, its source seemingly right behind my door. If circumstances were not so unfortunate, I might enjoy it. It's perfectly on-key and beautiful, but this is not the place where one wishes to hear unidentified noises from within the walls.

I open the door, expecting to see her standing right in front of me. No one. Instead, I'm greeted by a cobweb-laden room with a bed shoved in one corner and a bookshelf haphazardly wedged in front of a large steel door in an obvious attempt to hide it. The singing is the loudest of all from beyond that metal door, and a dark, murky scent drifts from the other side. Strangest of all, I notice that I can only hear her voice when I'm facing directly toward it.

If one thing is crystal clear, it's that this building was something else before it was a hotel. It's been transformed, transformed by people who wanted to bury its past forever.

And they didn't do a very good job. 

~~~~

OOooOOOooOOO what's behind the dOOOoooOooOr

I'm sorry.

Dr. Deryn Peters 

"Do you have a- a history with Dissasociative Identity Disorder?"

"No, not that I'm aware of at least" I run my shaky hand through my hair while a million questions are running througvh my head.

Who wrote that book? Why did it have blood on it? Who is "He"? Why was I holding that book? What happened? Why can't I remember anything? 

I am so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't notice Theodore picking up the journal that I had flung across the book and examining it. His face transformed from confusion to horror and worry as he beheld the blood on the book. He had almost the same reaction as I dd except he just dropped the book and took 6 big steps away from it.

I looked up from my opened hands in my lap to see Theodore gaping like a fish out of water while staring a the bloodstained book. I rallied up my litte strength left and, with all of my willpower, forced myself to walk over to the fallen book, pick it up, close it, and put it back on the shelf. I then step into my bathroom to take a shower. By then Theodore had left with worry etched onto the features of his face.

After my shower I changed into my nightclothes, a grey long sleeved shirt with blue plaid flannel pants and white socks. I flop onto my bed with a sigh and a cough as dust rises up. 

Better do some cleaning

As I work I pull out my phone to see if I have any signal, suprise suprise, no luck. I shrug and plug in my headphones as I get to work.

~~~

I'm so sorry I ment to post this earlier but I forgot please forgive meee

Theodore~

Theodore opened the door to his actual room carefully.  He has aked for a suite, but the room was even bigger than he was expecting.  It opened into a parlor with a foldout couch and several identical doors that undouibtedly lead to the bathroom and bedroom.

He sighed quietly, sliding out of his jacket and hanging it up in the coat closet.  He wanted nothing in the world more than to forget the entire events of the day- well, his whole life, but this day especially.  He collapsed into an armchair with a groan, loosening his tie.

"Do you want to talk about it?" A soft woman's voice came from by the window.

"Yes, I guess that it maks sense that you'd be here," Theodore addressed her tiredly.

"You're not afraid of we anymore?" the woman asked kindly, her voice sounding distinctly like she wwas smiling.

Thedore looked over at he, although he knew her appearance nearly as well as his own.  She had been his therapist since early childhood.  She was middle-aged with a warm smile, a tasteful blouse, and auburn hair tucked in a soft cloth headband.  And she had been dead for eleven years.

"No.  I- I guess the exposure, and the familiarity, maybe..." he stumbled,

"Now, you don't need to explain yourself to me.  Just tell me about your day.  It was bad, wasn't it?  You haven't had a good day since...?"

"Ever."

"Have you considered trying death?" The woman said, writing something on a notepad.

"I don't think I'm ready for that," he whispered.

"It's worked wonders for me," the woman continued dreamily, "I've never been so relaxed- so... at peace."

Theodore sighed despondantly,

"No, I..." he faltered, "no.  I think I'd just like to go to sleep."

"You're never tired this early ," the woman remarked knowingly.

"I am tonight.  I'm going to go right to sleep in this chair," he tossed his tie on the floor.

The ghost raised her eyebrows in an if-you-say-so look.

"Oh, and theres a 'ghost hunter' in the building, so maybe its best if you don't mention me." She tucked her pen behid her ear and shut her pad reluctantly.

"I never have," Theodore said, cracking a little smile.  The therapist smiled back and faded away.

The lights went out.

Theodore jumped backwards tipping the chair over with an unearthly bang.

GUYS, THAT WAS NOT ME. I AM NOT DROPPING OUT! I am honestly furious right now. Whoever did this is a meddler with nothing better to do than cause problems.