Whos there?

Kea was very excited about all the going-ons with the altars and gods and stuff. There were festive and strange things. With bubbles of autumn and fallen leaves to play in. It was a big difference to the sombre attitude of the pups that had come from the Armada to play with them. They had started off excited and eager to explore, but something had changed. No one was talking about it, but the adults around the place winced at certain questions. It made Kea more determined than ever to recapture the excitement that had been in the air before.

This had been Dusk’s idea. Sort of it. His dark coated sister had dared him that he would never be able to raise a ghost, bringing to his attention that some wolves were trying. Some further investigating told him that the ‘vail’ was supposed to be very thin at the moment. That ghosts could get across more easily. It was all he needed to start an idea.

What did ghosts like? That was a very important question. He supposed it depended what kind of ghost he wanted. Did he want someone sad and mopey who missed the real world? Of course not. There was all the matter of exactly what ghosts were. Further investigation from the curious pup told him that they were wolves that had once lived in the world, and had moved on to somewhere else. Or as one adult had said or did they? his head full of spooky ideas, he decided exactly what time of ghost he wanted to find. Someone fierce and scary. Someone that would follow him back to Dusk and say boo! that idea left him giggling.

So how did one summon such a ghost? He started by pulling herbs at random from the garden. Anything with dark petals seemed like a good idea. Of course, so much of the pretty growing things in the glass house were full of colour, so he couldn’t escape it entirely. Oh well, maybe his ghost would like colour?

Armed with growing things, he found a nice flat stone and started to assemble his offering. Making a rough sort of circle with shredded petals and stems and stuff. He stared at it for a time, and then shook his head. No, he needed more. He needed something fierce, after all. So he gathered some thorns, prickling himself a few times as he gathered and laid them out in his circle. Again, he stopped and examined his handiwork. Would this be enough to bring across a ghost? He wasn’t so sure. He next went for twigs, and assembled them into shapes of swords across his stones. He wanted a fighter. Someone deadly and fierce, and scary. His assemblage was starting to look cluttered at this point, but still the pup wasn’t satisfied.

The berries had been a brilliant idea, if he said so himself. He popped and smeared them over the ‘swords’ and thorns until his assemblage had a bloody imagery to it. He grinned, feeling far more satisfied now. So. he had his ‘altar’ now what? He had heard that the altars out in the world had familiars with them. But that was for ‘gods’ right? He wanted ghosts. Totally different things. Maybe. He wasn’t totally sure on the finer points of things. After some consideration, he went to the kitchen and grabbed down a rabbit that had been set up to drain. He arranged the rabbit on the altar. A dead rabbit, for a dead ghost. Surely that was everything he needed now, right?

The last thing he needed was dark. He had assembled this entire thing in a quiet and sheltered corner outside of the castle but still in the castle walls. He waited until the sun started to dip, and in the fading light impatience overcame him and he returned to his altar. The sticky berry juices were starting to smell very sweet, and his petals were wilting. But that just added to the atmosphere, right? Not really sure how to do this, he sat down in front of his altar. Tipping his head back, and closing his eyes. He pictured a dark, fierce wolf with glowing eyes. One that stood like… 60” tall and had smoke or steam coming off its fur. Perfect. Grinning, he continued to picture a wolf that would probably give him nightmares if it actually appeared. He pictured the wolf appearing above his altar. Appearing like the shadows gave it form, and opened its mouth. He pictured it so clearly that a tickle of wind brushing through his fur made him jump in fright and turn around. Facing his alter, heart hammering in his chest. Man, it really had gotten dark, hadn’t it? “Hello…?” he called out cautiously


"Ciaran Carpathius"