Spectral Slumber Party

There I was, wandering the halls of an old Victorian era house, aimless and lost. I had no recollection of how I had come to be here, but I knew I was seeking answers, even for questions I knew not of which to ask. 

The halls were unnervingly long and narrow, the wallpaper of ornate and intricate patterns peeling away with the slow decaying passage of time. The silent and sickly atmosphere of the half-lit home was heavy with sorrow. 

There was no one here, and as I passed by open doorways, I found every room devoid of life, furnishings, and memory. It was hollow here, and the home was not a home. 

Some of the windows faced outward, and I could see the full moon illuminating the eldritch landscape of a haunting woodland and meadows of tall grass that surrounded a small lake that laid just outside the decaying Victorian home. 

Somehow, suddenly, I found myself standing on the far side of the lake, looking at the eerie home, isolated and without any neighbors. The only sounds to be heard were that of an occasional owl hooting in the shadows. 

For what felt like an eternity, I stared at the ghostly home, never moving from my spot. Eventually, I heard human voices, which grew louder. The voices were feminine, and I could make out the faint nervous laughter as the silhouettes of three young women approached the house, moving swiftly through the tall grass. 

I stared at them as they entered the house, and they seemed unaware that I was there. The ladies were trespassing upon my domain.

~~~~~~~~

The next thing I knew, I was suddenly back inside the house. I became drawn to the relentless laughter of the three invasive women as they giggled over gossip. 

When I entered a room where I believed was the source of the womens' voices, I found the room empty. The disembodied laughter turned to a jumbled chanting of repetitive and meaningless words. 

I lingered in the room, and the longer I did so, the clearer the words became, and the shroud of the hidden intruders grew thinner. 

"The predator who once lived here deserved to die. He was a child rapist and he didn't deserve to be loved," said one of voices. 

"Those rumors were never proven, though," said another. 

"Even if the fucker was innocent, he was still a weirdo who shouldn't have existed at all," said a third. 

I had no idea what or who they were talking about, but it was clear they full of hate and disdain. Disgusting. 

~~~~~~~~

Hours passed by, and the gossip and ritualistic chanting continued. Although I was unable to see the intruders, I noticed that there were now more than three voices speaking out. Apparently, others had joined the original three. 

"Thank God he killed himself," said one of the newer voices. 

"We can all get on with our lives and enjoy our inheritence," said another. "Time to live it down!" 

"I'm not feeling so good," said a woman who sounded older than the rest. "I need to lie down." 

Suddenly, the shroud that had been concealing the intruders vanished, and I could suddenly see numerous women wandering around the house in night gowns. It was evident they were having a slumber party, of sorts. 

Six of the women were gathered in a circle in the living room around a Ouija board with black candles flickering around the room. They seemed to have finished their little seance. Although I could now see them all, none of the seemed to notice me. Was I invisible to them? 

It also occurred to me that the sun should have come up by now, but it hadn't. It was still dark, and the moonlight remained, unwavering, although it now appeared to glow in a sickly, greenish hue. 

In fact, everyone appeared pale and sickly and fatigued. As if in a trance, they all simultaneously climbed into beds and passed out, oblivious to my presence. 

~~~~~~~~

I watched as they slept, and I could feel their dreams in my mind's eye. I could read their minds, and I could see their hearts. They all loved gossip and gained pleasure from spreading falsehoods about those they knew nothing about. 

They weren't welcome in my domain, and I really just wanted to be left alone. 

As hours passed by, I stalked them all in the shadows, unseen and predatory. At first, I had believed they were spectres invading my space, but I had since realized that I was already dead, so I was the one who was the spectre here. 

And I was tired of it all. In life, my very existence felt like a nightmare, but apparently, that was also the case in death. 

Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks. Weeks into months. Months into years. 

As the time passed by, the intruders never woke up, and they decayed in their beds, cursed with the karma of their own hatred and distasteful witchery. 

I, too, remained trapped in the abandoned home. Was this hell? Was this Purgatory? Was there a difference? Did it really matter?