Encounterlogs
Lilahs Odd Encounter Sr Novel 241008
In the quiet solitude of her room, Lilah, a redhead deeply immersed in her studies, experiences a sudden and eerie drop in temperature, signaling something far beyond the ordinary. Amidst her academic distractions and the lively movements of her unborn child, she encounters a ghost—a young college-aged girl marred by the tragic signs of a fatal car crash. This spectral presence, driven by fragmented memories and a longing for her lost husband, fixates on Lilah and her unborn child, Gregory, mistakingly seeing Lilah as a companion in waiting for her husband's return. Struggling with her nausea and the surrealism of the moment, Lilah finds herself in a conversation with the spirit, who expresses a desperate, chilling desire to reunite with her husband.
As the situation unfolds, Lilah, relying on her knowledge of the supernatural and her inherent powers, attempts to safeguard herself and her baby from the ghost's intensifying presence. Through strategic use of salt water and a ritual to bind the spirit in place, Lilah manages to dissipate the ghost's form, which slowly crumbles under the ritual's power, ultimately disappearing with a final, melancholic farewell. In the wake of this paranormal encounter, Lilah is left to ponder the spirit's fate, hoping for her peace in the afterlife. Despite the emotional toll of the experience, Lilah's protective instincts for her child remain unwavering, highlighted by her resolve to not let anything harm her unborn son. The encounter concludes with Lilah seeking solace in the prospect of a drink, a humble end to a profoundly unsettling experience.
(Lilah's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Mon Oct 7 2024]
In Lilah's Room
Though most of this single-occupant room remains an empty canvas, the desk is piled high with books and a laptop computer. The bed is a heap of comfortable pillows and comforters, and looks to be used as much for studying as sleeping, given the books on the floor beside it, and stacked at the foot of the mattress. The walls are blank, though on the back of the door, a full-length mirror offers the occupant a good look at herself before leaving.
It is dusk, about 56F(13C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
As is usual for her, the redhead's sitting at her desk, head in her hands with her fingers fisted in her loose curls. Lilah is probably supposed to be studying, but her focus simply isn't there. The books and her tablet are out, on and open, but there's a faint grimace on her face, and eventually one of her hands drops from her head to press against one side of her stomach with a muttered, "Stop already. Go back to sleep... please!"
Such a quiet, solemn place, somewhere that Lilah often stays alone. In peace. Well. Mostly alone, that babe in her, eager and growing and ready to go OUT into the world. A curling thing that tumbles around. In point of fact, they seem to be more agitated and kicky than usual. A struggling to make Lilah pay attention. The temperature, already cool, starting to drop. And drop. And drop. It isn't long before it's from 'cold' to 'unpleasantly icy' making one wonder if someone in the dorm room is messing with the A/C settings. Which, in truth, are already overtaxed and overburdened, leading to too-hot summers and too-cold winters.
Fog begins to form when Lilah breathes, breath being pulled away, and the sky darkens further. Rain is coming.
A strange feeling comes over her, and itchy desire, a deepening fondness for Lilah's child, Gregory, in her stomach, her father, Matthew. He'll be home from the war any day now.
She's an intelligent woman. She's well versed in supernatural matters, far more than most really, given the way she was raised and yet... she's trying to study. Trying to deal with an acrobatic mango-sized critter turning her womb into a playground, while she works on assignments that are coming due terribly quickly. And so rather than think twice, she merely murmurs a few little words beneath her breath, relying on the fire and the magic in her blood to heat up the space around her. And then she's picking up her highlighter again, making yet another annotation of the text she's trying to focus on.
Slowly, softly, she starts to hum a lullabye designed to soothe and caress the little being within her into sleep - Lilah's siren's gift has finally found a good use.
Lilah's senses attuned to the mystical. Her singing reaching out, gathering the icy chill - and it winds, spins, swirls in the air as a distortion, the notes taking on an almost physical appearance, the song reaching out further and further than merely the into the awesome, deepest expression of life. Forming a new human being within the body. The babe settles almost immediately. The icy begins to gather. And thus, it forms a cloud. One that has its butt resting squarely upon Lilah's desk, with skeletal legs slowly kicking. It's a woman.
Well. A girl. A young girl, college aged, her body marred and marked horribly with all the signs of a car crash, broken glass, eyeball dangling down, with wispy hair and see-through skin, continuing the singing. A corpse. A ghost. A lingering memory, a terrible thing, but she smiles down at Lilah. Her voice softly carrying out, "I'm looking forwards to him. Him being born. We're going to take so good care of him and then when our husband comes back we'll make love to him."
Lilah looks up at the sound of someone else's voice in her room. At first, it's casual enough. With the assumption that one of her sorority sisters has walked in, uninvited like they so often seem to do, she says, "Nobody says that any more," with a half-snicker and a shake of her head. But that's when she pauses and frowns. It takes a moment to register, but finally, as she mouths the word 'husband', her eyes focus on the otherworldly, the being she can quite clearly see does not belong in her room. She freezes. She grows incredibly pale. It's not fear though. No. Her stomach churns and the redhead is forced to clamp her hands over her mouth to keep in her coffee and whatever else she's actually bothered to eat today. Her shoulders heave a few times, then she shudders.
"You... you uhhh..." she begins, clearly searching her mind for a kind way to say it. "Your husband won't be coming here. White Oak doesn't allow it, you know?"
long, beautiful black lashes lower over mostly-empty eyesockets. Delicate things, without makeup, that one would be jealous of, over the deformed mauling of a human body. Her broken hands, coming up, too brush back equally beautiful raven hair, threaded with silver, fluffing and spreading it out. She sounds indignant, leaning forwards. "I know! It's awful. Awful, awful, awful, AWFUL AWFUL," A screech. A horrible noise, rising in pitch, pressing against the mind with words that take no oxygen to speak and require no lungs to push to that terrible level. And then, she's all broken smiles, kicking her legs again as she studies Lilah. No. Not Lilah. Lilah's belly. There's an intensity there, a hunger, as a hand comes down to her own rounded belly.
"It'll be okay. We'll leave. We'll go find him again. I know he'll be back." Confidence. "I think..." Less confidence. "I know where he lies..."
Defenses raise silently, subtly, but the heat that wafts around Lilah grows thicker, pulsing softly, creating a barrier of sorts that's meant to block the ghost girl from getting any closer. Gently, Lilah sets down her highlighter, picking up a small vial that just lays atop her desk, instead. She lifts it to her nose, like some sort of perfume, but it's not. It's water. Sea water. And then she fumbles it, making every effort to make the throw of that vial look like an accident. It shatters when it hits the floor, sending water spraying in a circle around the section of the desk where the ghost girl sits. Not water... /salt/ water.
"You'll go," the living girl agrees with the dead one. "You will go. But not me." A few soft words are chanted then, not to banish the spirit but simply to lock it into place, as she reaches to fill her hands with a tiny little statue, instead of the vial. She seems to be using it for some sort of support, the ritual all but instant to snap into place.
Tears of water and black ichor and blood begin to stream down the ghost's face as she's pressured, the glittering salt freezing in the air - and then, burning. She starts to crumble, a little bit at a time. "I'm going." She murmurs. "I remember, where my husband lies." She states, again, the voice becoming slowly more and more tired as her gaze bores into Lilah. No longer an attack, no longer a winding, a gathering to force back into life. The heat melting. There's not enough there there. The magic making it slowly dissolving, crumble, steadily becoming more and more see-through as the sun sets. "We're going to go find him. Goodbye..." Is she? Was she truly a spirit, or some shards of memories, gathered together from a dozen distant places?
No answer will be forthcoming, no truth, even as Lilah gets to see the once-living baby in her, curled up, thumb sucking, peacefully adrift - and very, very still.
And then they're gone.
"Be well," Lilah says to the disappearing girl, with a grimace of what might be genuine empathy for whatever she had once been. "I hope you find him, and somewhere you find happiness." But she's not backing down when it comes to -her- baby, whatever the circumstances of that child's conception. So rather than reach out in kindness as she otherwise might, she merely watches the spirit-woman fade away. Then, there's a sigh and she stands slowly, pressing a hand to her back as she murmurs, "I need a goddamn drink..." She'll probably settle for a milkshake. Or pie.
As the situation unfolds, Lilah, relying on her knowledge of the supernatural and her inherent powers, attempts to safeguard herself and her baby from the ghost's intensifying presence. Through strategic use of salt water and a ritual to bind the spirit in place, Lilah manages to dissipate the ghost's form, which slowly crumbles under the ritual's power, ultimately disappearing with a final, melancholic farewell. In the wake of this paranormal encounter, Lilah is left to ponder the spirit's fate, hoping for her peace in the afterlife. Despite the emotional toll of the experience, Lilah's protective instincts for her child remain unwavering, highlighted by her resolve to not let anything harm her unborn son. The encounter concludes with Lilah seeking solace in the prospect of a drink, a humble end to a profoundly unsettling experience.
(Lilah's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Mon Oct 7 2024]
In Lilah's Room
Though most of this single-occupant room remains an empty canvas, the desk is piled high with books and a laptop computer. The bed is a heap of comfortable pillows and comforters, and looks to be used as much for studying as sleeping, given the books on the floor beside it, and stacked at the foot of the mattress. The walls are blank, though on the back of the door, a full-length mirror offers the occupant a good look at herself before leaving.
It is dusk, about 56F(13C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
As is usual for her, the redhead's sitting at her desk, head in her hands with her fingers fisted in her loose curls. Lilah is probably supposed to be studying, but her focus simply isn't there. The books and her tablet are out, on and open, but there's a faint grimace on her face, and eventually one of her hands drops from her head to press against one side of her stomach with a muttered, "Stop already. Go back to sleep... please!"
Such a quiet, solemn place, somewhere that Lilah often stays alone. In peace. Well. Mostly alone, that babe in her, eager and growing and ready to go OUT into the world. A curling thing that tumbles around. In point of fact, they seem to be more agitated and kicky than usual. A struggling to make Lilah pay attention. The temperature, already cool, starting to drop. And drop. And drop. It isn't long before it's from 'cold' to 'unpleasantly icy' making one wonder if someone in the dorm room is messing with the A/C settings. Which, in truth, are already overtaxed and overburdened, leading to too-hot summers and too-cold winters.
Fog begins to form when Lilah breathes, breath being pulled away, and the sky darkens further. Rain is coming.
A strange feeling comes over her, and itchy desire, a deepening fondness for Lilah's child, Gregory, in her stomach, her father, Matthew. He'll be home from the war any day now.
She's an intelligent woman. She's well versed in supernatural matters, far more than most really, given the way she was raised and yet... she's trying to study. Trying to deal with an acrobatic mango-sized critter turning her womb into a playground, while she works on assignments that are coming due terribly quickly. And so rather than think twice, she merely murmurs a few little words beneath her breath, relying on the fire and the magic in her blood to heat up the space around her. And then she's picking up her highlighter again, making yet another annotation of the text she's trying to focus on.
Slowly, softly, she starts to hum a lullabye designed to soothe and caress the little being within her into sleep - Lilah's siren's gift has finally found a good use.
Lilah's senses attuned to the mystical. Her singing reaching out, gathering the icy chill - and it winds, spins, swirls in the air as a distortion, the notes taking on an almost physical appearance, the song reaching out further and further than merely the into the awesome, deepest expression of life. Forming a new human being within the body. The babe settles almost immediately. The icy begins to gather. And thus, it forms a cloud. One that has its butt resting squarely upon Lilah's desk, with skeletal legs slowly kicking. It's a woman.
Well. A girl. A young girl, college aged, her body marred and marked horribly with all the signs of a car crash, broken glass, eyeball dangling down, with wispy hair and see-through skin, continuing the singing. A corpse. A ghost. A lingering memory, a terrible thing, but she smiles down at Lilah. Her voice softly carrying out, "I'm looking forwards to him. Him being born. We're going to take so good care of him and then when our husband comes back we'll make love to him."
Lilah looks up at the sound of someone else's voice in her room. At first, it's casual enough. With the assumption that one of her sorority sisters has walked in, uninvited like they so often seem to do, she says, "Nobody says that any more," with a half-snicker and a shake of her head. But that's when she pauses and frowns. It takes a moment to register, but finally, as she mouths the word 'husband', her eyes focus on the otherworldly, the being she can quite clearly see does not belong in her room. She freezes. She grows incredibly pale. It's not fear though. No. Her stomach churns and the redhead is forced to clamp her hands over her mouth to keep in her coffee and whatever else she's actually bothered to eat today. Her shoulders heave a few times, then she shudders.
"You... you uhhh..." she begins, clearly searching her mind for a kind way to say it. "Your husband won't be coming here. White Oak doesn't allow it, you know?"
long, beautiful black lashes lower over mostly-empty eyesockets. Delicate things, without makeup, that one would be jealous of, over the deformed mauling of a human body. Her broken hands, coming up, too brush back equally beautiful raven hair, threaded with silver, fluffing and spreading it out. She sounds indignant, leaning forwards. "I know! It's awful. Awful, awful, awful, AWFUL AWFUL," A screech. A horrible noise, rising in pitch, pressing against the mind with words that take no oxygen to speak and require no lungs to push to that terrible level. And then, she's all broken smiles, kicking her legs again as she studies Lilah. No. Not Lilah. Lilah's belly. There's an intensity there, a hunger, as a hand comes down to her own rounded belly.
"It'll be okay. We'll leave. We'll go find him again. I know he'll be back." Confidence. "I think..." Less confidence. "I know where he lies..."
Defenses raise silently, subtly, but the heat that wafts around Lilah grows thicker, pulsing softly, creating a barrier of sorts that's meant to block the ghost girl from getting any closer. Gently, Lilah sets down her highlighter, picking up a small vial that just lays atop her desk, instead. She lifts it to her nose, like some sort of perfume, but it's not. It's water. Sea water. And then she fumbles it, making every effort to make the throw of that vial look like an accident. It shatters when it hits the floor, sending water spraying in a circle around the section of the desk where the ghost girl sits. Not water... /salt/ water.
"You'll go," the living girl agrees with the dead one. "You will go. But not me." A few soft words are chanted then, not to banish the spirit but simply to lock it into place, as she reaches to fill her hands with a tiny little statue, instead of the vial. She seems to be using it for some sort of support, the ritual all but instant to snap into place.
Tears of water and black ichor and blood begin to stream down the ghost's face as she's pressured, the glittering salt freezing in the air - and then, burning. She starts to crumble, a little bit at a time. "I'm going." She murmurs. "I remember, where my husband lies." She states, again, the voice becoming slowly more and more tired as her gaze bores into Lilah. No longer an attack, no longer a winding, a gathering to force back into life. The heat melting. There's not enough there there. The magic making it slowly dissolving, crumble, steadily becoming more and more see-through as the sun sets. "We're going to go find him. Goodbye..." Is she? Was she truly a spirit, or some shards of memories, gathered together from a dozen distant places?
No answer will be forthcoming, no truth, even as Lilah gets to see the once-living baby in her, curled up, thumb sucking, peacefully adrift - and very, very still.
And then they're gone.
"Be well," Lilah says to the disappearing girl, with a grimace of what might be genuine empathy for whatever she had once been. "I hope you find him, and somewhere you find happiness." But she's not backing down when it comes to -her- baby, whatever the circumstances of that child's conception. So rather than reach out in kindness as she otherwise might, she merely watches the spirit-woman fade away. Then, there's a sigh and she stands slowly, pressing a hand to her back as she murmurs, "I need a goddamn drink..." She'll probably settle for a milkshake. Or pie.