hi! i wrote this for a writing contest and the deadline is soon, so i’d love some folks here to read it and give me feedback if you feel like it!! i’m fairly proud of it but i wanna know how i can do better
After you have finished reading please take this survey if you have a moment, it would really really help me!
Daisy had never seen the ocean, but she imagined it sounded like the wind through the cornstalks.
The hot early September sun beat down on the little clapboard farmhouse, which was surrounded by a sea of cornfields, each stalk taller than Daisy’s pa. Bugs chirred from unseen locations in the long grass around the stalks, filling the silence of long summer days with their incessant song. If the air was not its usual gusty self, Daisy would often hear distant barks from the dogs of neighbouring farms, echoing over the rolling hills and stirring the comfortable silence. The concept of seeing others was near unfathomable to Daisy; at six years old, she’d only ever been to town three times with her ma and pa. Sometimes, her pa would mention going over to “ol’ Morrison’s for a beer anna hamburger”, but otherwise it was her and her parents alone in their clapboard boat on that cornfield ocean.
The sun painted the clouds with pinks and oranges that morning, the shadows of the cornstalks still long on the grass. Daisy, to her parents’ chagrin, woke before the sun and was out the door before her ma had even put the coffee pot on the stove. On days like these, when school wasn’t on and summer still had its grasp on the world, Daisy’s imagination was limitless. All day, she’d run and jump, playing hide and seek with the rabbits (who would always win) and racing the caterpillars (who would not). Daisy would play through to lunchtime, when her mother would call her inside. She’d eat, and be back outside before all the crumbs had even fallen onto her plate.
Now the sky looked as it had twelve hours before, only with the sun going to sleep in its cloudy bed instead of waking up. The chill of the evening was beginning to set in, the breeze not as warm and forgiving as before; Daisy’s legs, bare under her dress, crawled with goosebumps. Nevertheless, Daisy was determined to finish her game before suppertime, as she was currently busy being a very important explorer discovering some very magical and important rocks.
The sun sank below the cornstalks, darkening the shadows and sky with haste as if the evening was on a very tight schedule and could not afford to be a moment late. A gust of wind blew through, knocking the ears of corn together and rustling their leaves like a rushing tide. Daisy, seated just by the edge of the cornfield, was startled by the sudden noise and leapt up from the ground, eyes wide and heart racing.
Just the corn, she told herself. Nothin’ to be scared of.
Something white flashed in the corner of her eye. Daisy gasped and turned quickly in the direction of it but was too late to catch anything.
Nothin’ to be scared of.
Again, a flash of white and a rustle of corn, this time a little farther from her. Without taking much time to calculate risks, as six-year-olds often do not, Daisy barrelled into the cornfield with all the speed and might her little legs could give her. Whatever this white thing was, it didn’t know who it was messing with.
Another rustle. The air remained still, yet the corn rustled. Something was not right.
“Hello?” Daisy’s voice felt, all of a sudden, incredibly small. Her bravery and valour from a few seconds ago were replaced with a creeping fear. “HELLO?”
There was something white ahead of her, obscured by the tall stalks of corn. Curiosity won over instinct as Daisy stepped carefully towards it. The thing, whatever it was, started to move faster through the field, and Daisy adjusted her pace to keep up with it. After a while, her lungs started to contract, her breath came less easily, and her bare feet ached from pounding against the dirt. Yet the thing persisted, and so did Daisy. As she ran, tired feet stumbling along after the mystery creature, she felt her foot catch. Her arms flew out beside her to try and regain balance, and for a moment she was back running as she had been before, until–
Teeth knocked into teeth as Daisy’s chin hit the hard ground. She let out a loud cry of pain, eyes squeezed tight, hot tears leaking out. Rolling onto her back, Daisy looked at the now-black sky with dazed fear. Had it really gotten that dark so quickly?
A low hum edged its way into her hearing. It grew a little louder after a moment, and Daisy, terrified, fought the pain in her palms and head to sit upright. To her surprise, two round, black eyes stared back at her, the darkness within them so profound that it unsettled Daisy more than she ever had been in her six years of life. A translucent shape only slightly larger than she was hovered a few inches off the ground.
Daisy was looking at a ghost.
Or, well, it certainly looked how one would expect a ghost to look. This was not the ghosts of horror films or Dickensian Christmas stories, no; simpler than that, the ghost seemed to be only a white sheet with two eyes, both of which were currently staring Daisy down rather calmly.
Daisy stood slowly, careful not to take her eyes off the ghost. It did not move.
“What are you?” she asked it softly, afraid to raise her voice louder than a whisper.
The ghost whistled, startling Daisy enough to make her yelp. It wasn’t the same kind of whistling her father did on those happy summer mornings that now seemed so far away. This whistle was beautiful, ethereal, the tone seeping into Daisy’s bones and resonating there for what felt like forever.
Daisy stretched out a hand to touch its cloudy body. This time it was the ghost’s turn to be afraid, and it let out a sharp whistle, moving away from her fingertips.
“I’m sorry,” said Daisy. “You okay?”
This is what is special about young children such as Daisy: they have a sixth sense for all the magic the world has to offer, and they harbour no fear for it whatsoever; instead, they have compassion for everyone – or everything – that they meet.
The ghost whistled softly at Daisy, inching a little closer. A foggy tendril reached out from its shapeless body, and Daisy giggled as a breeze brushed through her hair. As Daisy’s lingering fears of the ghost subsided, so too did the ghost’s, leaving the pair with a newfound friendship that transcended their level of departure from the mortal plane.
For hours, as the sky above them grew darker, Daisy and the ghost discovered how much fun a human and a spectre could have in a shadowy cornfield. Endless time passed under the satin-black sky, rhythmic winds blowing cornstalks in waves around them. Daisy had never had so much fun in her life.
A dog howled in the distance. Usually, a sound like this wouldn’t faze Daisy, but tonight it tore her from her amazed stupor with the force of a tornado. Suddenly she remembered how far she was from the clapboard farmhouse, from her ma and pa.
Lips trembling, she asked the ghost, “do you know where I am?”
Daisy’s question was met with a loud silence.
“How do I go home?” Large, hot tears began to roll slowly down Daisy’s round cheeks, dripping silently onto the dirt below her. “Where’s my ma?”
The ghost stared at her with its void-like eyes for what felt like two eternities, the only sound the waving cornstalks around them. Perhaps, Daisy thought, the ghost had planned to bring her out here all along, its intent malicious instead of playful.
Suddenly, almost too quickly for Daisy to react, the ghost turned tail and began to zip through the cornfield at a breakneck pace, so fast that her little legs could hardly keep up. Sharp leaves whipped at her face, rocks poked her bare feet, and her lungs tightened and refused to loosen.
Was that endless horizon of corn beginning to thin? Could that be the roof of their little red barn?
Yes, there was the clapboard house, just where Daisy had left it! As she came to the cornfield’s edge, she could even see her ma standing on the porch in her nightgown, eyes scanning the farm fervently.
Collapsing into her mother’s arms as the night sky began to fade into dawn, Daisy stole a look back at the cornfield, expecting to see her little white friend; of course, as ghosts tend to do, it had disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
Many years later Daisy would think back to her night adrift in that field and wonder if it had all been her imagination as her mother had told her. Whatever the truth, whatever the real reason she’d been lost in the corn, Daisy would always be happy to let her ghostly friend into her dreams for another round of tag.
Nico leading séances and spirit box sessions and graveyard ghost hunts at 3 am
Nico carrying protection boxes and crystals and salt and protection herbs in little jars with him everywhere just in case he needs to help someone or banish a demon on-the-go
Nico telling chilling ghost stories at every camp-wide sleepover to creep out all the little kids
Nico whispering protection prayers over Will every night after he falls asleep
Me again bitches! #inktober day 11! Today’s demon is Vuall, Uvall or Wall. Vuall appears in either the form of a huge camel or as a man speaking ‘an Egyptian tongue.’ He’s gifted in creating relationships, procuring favour with friend & foe alike, as well as bridging communication gaps. I already had a lovely hangout with creative & not-demonic-at-all illustrator friends @suzannedore & @chantal_bourgonje today, so Vuall has already smiled upon me! May he smile also on you, bitches . . . . . . #occult #occultart #demon #demonology #demonologist #demontober #witchcraft #witchcore #witchart #queerwitch #demonart #vuall #ink #inkdrawing #brushinking #brushink #windsorandnewton #camel #arsgoetia #dictionnaireinfernal #pseudomonarchiadaemonium #collindeplancy #summoner #invocation #spirits #ghosts #spooky #spookyseason #queerillustrator https://www.instagram.com/p/CU5bvvCF9yR/?utm_medium=tumblr
I’m back from London, and Julian and Emma told me to tell you “hello” and also “they send their love.” But that is not the important part of the letter, which is later. But you shouldn’t skip to that part, I will explain why soon.
Blackthorn Hall is actually pretty cool. It’s big and it’s old, and lots of parts don’t work properly yet, but Emma and Jules have done a lot to make it nice. There’s lots of bedrooms. I picked out one for me, which they called the “gray bedroom,” but honestly all the bedrooms are kind of gray. They said it’s so we can paint them if we want, they’ll be our rooms and we can decorate them how we like.
You’ll have to pick out the one you want when you visit, but I found one that I bet will be your favorite. It overlooks the gardens which I think will be the last thing to get fixed up, and so will continue to look creepy for a while. There are all these broken statues with plants grown over them, like they were trying to kill the statues. Like they succeeded in killing the statues. It looks like if you went walking down there the vines would wrap around you and pull you underground. You’ll love it.
I didn’t sleep well before we traveled to London and now I think it was because I was worried. Anush says our bodies often tell us how we are feeling even when our minds aren’t conscious of it. Like feeling nauseated before an important test. You probably know what I mean.
But it was good. Especially to see Jules and Emma. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until I saw them. I think I felt it like Anush says, like a weird pressure in my chest that went away when Jules hugged me. Maybe it’s the same for you. Or maybe you already know how much you miss them. Anyway I thought it was important to say I also miss you and it’ll be nice when we can all be in the same house together again. I think Irene will like it there too.
Ragnor’s map did actually help, so it was good he came. He found a couple of places in London to check for more of those cursed objects, so that’s one step closer to un-cursing the house. I know, it would be cool to live in a cursed house. But it wouldn’t be fair to Rupert the Ghost, since he’s trapped there because of the curse. And anyway there’s all this renovation work that the builders won’t do until the curse is lifted. And it would be good if the house’s roof didn’t leak. That might be a little too gloomy even for you.
Now we’ve talked about the bedrooms, the house, and Ragnor, so if anyone asks you can tell them those are the things we discussed. We are now at the part of the letter where I have to tell you important things but I wanted you to have information you could share in case someone asked you if you had heard from me. I mean, if someone important asks you. If someone we don’t know asks you, Anush says you can say “Make like a tree and leave,” which I don’t understand but he says will definitely work.
So, the important part. Rupert the Ghost. I wasn’t really thinking when I wrote up above that it will be nice for us to all be together. I mean, it will be, but it’s not quite that simple, at least for me. See…Rupert saw Livvy. She wasn’t hiding or anything, and she didn’t act surprised that he saw her. But I’ve spent so much time worried about other, you know, living people finding out about her. It hadn’t even occurred to me that of course there are ghosts everywhere, all over the world, and they’ll all know she’s there. The ghosts here at the Scholomance know about her, of course, but Edvard and Prudence keep to themselves and nobody really pays attention to either of them. Prudence is always in the library pretending to shelve books (or actually shelving ghost books, I can’t tell) and Edvard paces slowly through the halls and barely ever talks. Sometimes he moans, but that’s just him complaining.
Rupert and Livvy had a couple of conversations with just the two of them, I guess about ghost stuff. She says she made him promise that he wouldn’t say anything about seeing her, but ghosts can lie. So what if he says something to Emma or Julian? What if he can tell that something is weird with the way Livvy is a ghost and he mentions that?
The thing is, it’s not just Rupert. Even if he stays quiet, I already almost made Emma suspicious by talking to Livvy myself. I had to tell her I was talking to you on the phone. I know about Rupert and I know about Edvard and Prudence, but there could be ghosts anyplace I go, and if someone else is there and they start interacting with Livvy I’m going to have to explain. I got used to Edvard and Prudence ignoring her but Rupert drifted right into the bedroom and asked her who she was.
Livvy says I shouldn’t worry. She reminds me that any Shadowhunter can see ghosts who want to be seen, like Edvard and Prudence, but that it’s much harder to see a ghost who doesn’t want to be seen, and that’s most ghosts. She says Rupert wanted to be seen — first by Emma and Jules and then by Livvy and me, though only Livvy’s seen him really clearly— but if he didn’t, I’d never have known he was there. She says she’s able to hide herself from almost all people (even Jace, and he has latent ghost-seeing powers), and even able to hide herself from a lot of ghosts. And that even if they do see her, they won’t necessarily know who she is, it’s not like ghosts can just identify each other. And she says if she has to, she’ll just lie to them.
She said a lot of reassuring things. But it still gave me a cold feeling, which I think is my body telling my brain that I’m afraid. If Julian and Emma found out about Livvy, they wouldn’t just be angry. They’d feel like they had to do something, like lay her to rest. People don’t think ghosts can be happy, but Livvy is happy. She helps me with work and she tells me advice for Anush (he has a crush on Rayan’s sister Nasha) and when we’re alone we play games or I read to her. She can’t do everything but why would being all the way dead be better? Everyone calls it “rest” but no one really knows, do they?
Maybe you have ideas. Tell me if you have ideas.
Love,
Tiberius
You don’t understand, I’m crashed….. I miss him so much
To dispel a ghost one first needs to know what it wants, the following charm will help with that endeavour. To be said aloud at the haunted place: (Original spellings retained to aid correct pronunciation, with a modern transliteration to aid understanding. - author’s edition)
vampire hunter? no i said vampire HAUNTER. this jerk sucked all my blood out so now i spend my afterlife knocking over shelves and scaring off potential victims and just making the castle generally pretty cold
it’s always ‘bleh why are the plates floating’, 'gah who knocked over my blood goblet’ and never 'sorry for killing you’ ok starve then!
and what are you going to do about it? have a priest exorcise the place? yeah good luck with all the crosses and holy water you piece of shit
It’s a lovely morning in the gothic castle, and you are a horrible ghost.
You lock all the doors day or night. You tell yourself and others it’s so no person can break in, but you know you’re protecting yourself from something much worse.
The house ghost watches you from the top of the stairs, disappearing when you look in it’s direction.
It’s eerily quiet.
You thought you shut the basement door, but it’s always open when you walk by again.
What is that sound?
Your dog stares down the hallway and whines at nothing.
You know there’s something.
You go down to the basement to get something. There’s a being at the end of the hall. You are paralyzed. Its eyes stare into your soul as it approaches you. When it gets close it disappears.
You feel different and go back upstairs without grabbing your item.
You don’t even bother shutting the basement door.
There’s blood on the kitchen counter. You ignore it.
Suddenly it’s dark out. How long were you in the basement?
You close the curtains and blinds, knowing they don’t stop anything that truly wants to see inside.
The front door isn’t locked anymore.
Your favorite show goes to commercial, so you go to the kitchen to grab a drink. You come back to the TV playing static. The channel hasn’t changed. You sit and watch anyway.
The being from the basement has replaced the house ghost’s spot at the top of the stairs. It doesn’t let you go.
There’s a knock on the door. You realize every door was knocked on at the same time.
You haven’t seen your dog in a few hours, but you hear it whining from a location you can’t get to.
Your family member gets back home, they look different from when they left. An entirely new face.
ALT
