ℍ𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 – Passion & Osteo

[Passion]

Since the early 1800s, a version of the Waterfront Apartments has stood. A stunning building near the beautiful Cedar Lake. It was built in a way to provide the most scenic view for its tenants. These days, the view alone made the property worth an abundant amount of money.

At first, the property was a boarding house, known for its rather high structure for the time, but the building had been remodeled repeatedly throughout the decades. To the unknown visitor, one would never guess the true age of the building with a quick walk in alone, but between the cracks, its age showed. With modern wallpaper and fresh coats of paint, its history was hidden instead of highlighted, aside from the exterior, a historic plaque, and a few antiques.

While many admired the well-polished, historic building, it also had the reputation of being haunted. The current owners of the Waterfront property would much rather capitalize on the stunning view than the possible ghosts that wandered its halls and units, but through many generations of owners, it was found that it was easier to remove a difficult tenant than a stubborn ghost.

There were rumors that stirred on each of the seven floors of the Waterfront, but it was unit 781 that had gotten the most bizarre reports by a long shot. There weren't any notable records regarding the unit specifically, but the apartment complex, popular enough to have a waiting list, often had to keep that one unit vacant. One that could be making the owners' money, but instead, they had to charge cheaper rent to the units around it, and could not have anyone stay there long without an unwelcome visit.

While the paranormal activity was always worse when someone was living in unit 781, but even when the unit was empty, there would be random and distorted screaming in the middle of the night. It sounded like a female voice, but the distortion also had many believing that it was a demon.

This belief grew stronger after the ghastly presence managed to scare off both priests and many paranormal investigators. While many carefully listened for mere whispers of the dead to prove they were real, the 'Screaming Maiden' delivered screams and, at times, violent poltergeist activity, especially in the kitchen, throwing heavy and sharp objects, slamming drawers, and refusing to let anyone stay while screaming like a banshee.​

​

The energy was highly territorial.

After our recent phone conversation, I wanted to thank you again for being willing to help us deal with our problem. After many failed attempts to remove this demon, we are hoping a new perspective could make a difference. As part of our agreement, we will allow you to stay in unit 781 for free to work. We expect monthly updates on your findings and progress. Maintenance unsealed the crawl space as requested, and while I know there aren't any deceased bodies up there, please be mindful of dust and spiders. All apartments on the 7th floor have a crawl space, so be mindful of bumping into walls and further scaring our tenants. If there is anything you need so we can better assist you, please let me know. – Beth Hall

---

Unit 781 was a spacious apartment with two bedrooms, a roomy kitchen, a cozy dining room, a bathroom and a half bath, an entertainment area, and probably the biggest highlight was the balcony that had a stunning view of Cedar Lake. On a surface level, it was a bright and inviting space. Despite its elegance, according to the history of the building, it once was a boarding house for many locals in the nearby town of more humble or difficult backgrounds compared to a lot of the posh personalities it seemed to attract now.

When movers came in and out with boxes and furniture, the energy in the unit stirred. The ripples renewed a sense of awareness in the physical realm and beyond. The once dormant energy was quiet, simmering… watching; aware.​

Not again…
Back in the crawl space I go...
For now.​

Box after box filled the unit, which had been empty for over two years. One would think that the property owners would have given up and allowed the phantom to stay rent-free, but clearly, that wasn't the case.

Things would be quiet, potentially for a few days, unless he was quick to stir the pot. Honestly, too quiet for how strong and even violent the rumors were. One would probably think the place wasn't haunted, although there was always a sense that one was not alone.

Well, no one ever was truly alone in unit 781. The specter was spectating. What unfortunate soul would be next to fall victim to the startling wrath of the 'Screaming Maiden' for trying to live in her home?​

 

[Osteo]

The supernatural existed all around, naked to the normal eye. Many believed that ghosts and spirits were not real and that it was all a hoax, with things recorded and seen being faked using CGI and lies. A world in which they were forgotten and then tormented, shackled to this plane of existence in which they could only see others living lives that many tragically lost before they could have their own full experiences. Deep desires and emotions that shackled them, with no place to go. Priests and hunters would exorcise these spirits, a network all across the globe that worked on special cases in which they would destroy the spirit and, in doing so, would remove their essence completely from the natural order. They would not be reborn, or move on they would cease to exist entirely.

Ethan Grant, also known as the Hunter with a Heart, was called in for a new job in which he would be working on removing a spirit from the Waterfront Apartments. Called when others had failed, and they turned to unorthodox methods. Those methods are what gave him his nickname in the field that he chose years ago, when he was a younger man interacting with his first-ever supernatural moment. A spirit who died and was suffering, looking for a way out from her binding hold that kept her in this mortal realm, in which she could only suffer. From there, he learned that spirits and monsters were not evil inherently; they were forced to suffer even after death, and he decided that day he would help them find peace after. Find a way to unshackle them and help them pass on to the next life.

What made him special wasn't just his compassion for spirits but his unique connection to the spirit realm, in which he could see the spirits that lingered in this life. He could even touch and interact with them as if they were alive and fully corporeal in this world once again.

Many hunters had this gift, but they used it to exorcise spirits, whereas Ethan refused to have that simple-minded approach.

---

Smoke curled and brushed against the slightly fogged glass of the car window. Cracked just a smidge for the smoke to sift out of the car while a man dressed in well-worn black dress pants, matching black shoes, with a tucked-in white button-up shirt. A matching black blazer unbuttoned with a hanging black tie, dressed in monotonous colors, but his profession didn't lead to expression. Things were expected and stereotyped about someone who worked for the church.

In his lap was an open portfolio with papers slipping out. Various photos of Unit 781 were taken by prior tenants and those who attempted exorcisms before his arrival. His eyes were looking over some of the details in the more recent reports, specifically the very last case just two years ago. They reported feeling unsafe, like a pair of eyes were watching them, but unable to find their location after days of searching and living inside the unit gave them a sense of inescapable dread, like they would die in their sleep. Ultimately, they gave up and considered the case closed, explaining that whatever haunted the unit was too elusive and refused to leave.

The ashes of the cigarette fell as it the end was burnt down to the butt and finished. With a slam of the portfolio closed, he would toss the papers into the open briefcase in the passenger seat. Flicking the butt out the crack of the window, he grabbed his briefcase and closed it, rolling up the window and getting out of the old, beat-up car that he used to get around.

Taking a look up at the apartment, he would gaze over the architecture and see nothing remarkable. Nothing that gave him any aura in which he could perceive activity of the supernatural, but he had a job to do, and so he stepped into the lobby, where he would be greeted by the clerk, who would hand over his keys. The movers had already brought the little belongings he possessed and set the boxes inside the apartment. Ethan was always traveling for his work, willing to go anywhere in the world if it meant helping a spirit, and so he couldn't become attached to material possessions, for when he moved or traveled across the world.

The elevator ride up was quiet; no one was with him, and the movers had already left by the time he arrived and unlocked his new apartment. With a click, the lock shifted and opened, and he stepped inside to the dusty, abandoned apartment. His boxes were lying in the middle of the room as he closed the door behind him and tossed the keys onto the small end table by the door.

The spirit likely wouldn't show itself immediately to him, and from reading the reports, it would be best not to draw attention to the fact that he was here specifically for the spirit, but instead to act like a regular tenant. The briefcase was put down next, and the blazer was shrugged off and tossed onto the boxes. A finger curled into the knot of the tie and tugged it down to slightly loosen it as he stepped onto the balcony and took a look at the view.

He wasn't interested in the view for very long as he left the balcony and headed into the one-bedroom and found the pull-down for the attic. Giving it a tug, the creak of the old unused door creaked on its hinges while it spilled a step ladder out from the attic and dropped to the ground for him to climb up. Already, he could smell the must that came from the attic, and that it would be incredibly dusty as he would ascend up and poke his head inside to see what was up in the crawlspace of the attic. Any boxes or signs, really, just anything.

Or if he could feel what the last priest said. Eyes that always watched and made their presence known but couldn't be found.

 

[Passion]

Why did the living have to be so clueless? Even in their silence, their presence alone was so loud to the sensitive spirit. Every time she was left alone, she would make the unit feel like hers again, only for someone to interrupt the energy she placed. It was upsetting. This was her home, and yet people kept trying to claim it as their own, or even worse, try to rid her of it.

She recalled the last lady who lived in the unit a few years ago. She would sing for what felt like all day and all night. She had two dogs that barked constantly, always reacting to what she could not see, and it nearly drove the spirit mad. That was when she threw the knives in the kitchen, purposely missing, but landing dangerously close to the woman. The woman HAD to leave... and she did. She left a day or two later with her dogs, then silence... until the last priest came and tried to smoke her out with sage and prayers. However, there wasn't a sweet middle. There have been reports that even if no one had been in the unit for a fair amount of time, the spirit would still scream to break the silence. From a surface letter, it seemed she could not be appeased.

It seemed this stranger was moving in, but it was strange that the owner had unlocked the door to the crawl space where she gathered and protected her energy. Did this man think he could put his dusty belongings up here with her?! The spirit had learned to expect the worst from the living, who saw her as nothingness or a pest.

She had learned the only way to cause worthwhile ripples in the realm of the living was with fear and aggression. Even if they wrongly gave her the title of a 'demon'. It used to offend her, and she still didn't love it, but it did make people run faster. It didn't take long being a ghost to realize why ghost stories were often frightening instead of friendly.

How could they be peaceful when they were rarely heard?

How could they coexist when she was a spirit hanging on to her very existence by a thread?
​

The attic had a few pieces of old furniture. A weathered desk, a nearly empty bookshelf, a cracked chair, a dusty dark red rug, and a small window facing away from the lake. It was silent, still… yet there was a sensation of tension; it was like someone holding their breath to not be seen. There was also a haunting chill that lingered in the air. The spirit had learned that most could not see her unless she willed it or had become aggravated, but to a medium, she would appear as misty smoke near the corner of the room.
​

Huh?
Was he looking at her?
Could he already see her?​

The spirit was used to having the first move. Testing this out, she walked to the other side of the room, appearing as a rolling smoke before standing on the opposite side to see if his gaze would follow.

This was not good. A few who had tried to get rid of her could see her, and those were often the hardest to counter. Hopefully, the man would mind his business and at least let her rest up here until she was ready to chase him away.

Could he hear? It was a whisper many could not hear. "This is my home. You should gather your things and leave. You aren't allowed here, especially up here." She still wasn't showing herself, but her tone and ghastly energy had a strong feminine tie to them.​

 

[Osteo]

Dust kicked up from the crack of the attic door and the drop of the ladder. Just his presence shifted everything as the old crickety ladder would groan its old song from his weight ascending up the faded oak to where his head would crack the horizon of the floorboard in the attic. Inside, he spotted old furniture, left behind by old residents or perhaps even the original owner of the apartment many years ago. There was a dank, musty smell, and the light that filtered through the stained, yellowed glass illuminated the floating dust that was disturbed and falling like small snowflakes to settle back down on the floorboard.

That was when he saw her.

What he could. A rolling smoke that lingered in the corner, tucked away as if hiding from the intruder in her home. Every time he encountered the supernatural, even with his pure heart and intentions, he would still feel his hands become clammy and his pulse increase on the inside. Even if he was calm on the outside, stoic in nature, and like a rock that couldn't be harmed. Inside, he always knew he took a risk, that this could be his last job, and he could be killed. He brought no holy water. No book in which he could chant an exorcism or even a holy weapon blessed by priests. All he had was himself and his own physical capabilities, but every supernatural being was different, and some could be fast. Some could be strong, deadly with sharp claws. His human, mortal flesh wouldn't be much of a match.

He would watch, his gaze following her as she would move and let her know that he was capable of seeing her, but he made no reaction or shocked surprise upon realizing her movement. His eyes would silently watch, gazing as he mentally took notes to himself until she would speak to him. Like smoke, a ghastly whisper that would ooze through the attic as she would speak to him and demand that he leave and gather his things.

He wasn't going to confront her with hostility; he hoped she was willing to have a conversation with him.

"I know this is your home. I'm just visiting for a while, living here for a short time. Not permanently. I don't mean to intrude, but I would like to coexist with you. Until I leave, that is." His voice and tone was soft and airy. Non-confrontational, as he respected her authority on this being her home and how she didn't want him to be here. He understood that with the many attempts in the past of those who came before, their goal was to drive her out.

"I'm going to be making dinner soon. Are you still capable of eating? I've met some in my past who were still connected to this world to take a physical form and eat." His goal was to form at least a common connection with this spirit, an attempt to start on common ground, at the very least, and not with hostility immediately. Having her trust him would take time and effort, ones that he would have to show through more than just his words.

"You can come down if you wish to speak while I cook. I don't have any weapons on me that can harm you. I am a Hunter, you could say, but I don't hunt the supernatural like yourself. I want to help you." He could only say so much, but he was honest and upfront with her about why he was here. That he wouldn't hurt her, he didn't have any weapons on him, but still he could understand if she viewed his invitation as a trap to get her to appear in a physical, corporeal form in which she could be harmed and exorcised more easily.

Without overstaying his welcome, he lowered his head from out of the attic and climbed back down the ladder but he didn't close the door or push the ladder back up. Leaving it open, as a gesture for her to come down if she wanted.

He was acutely aware of his surroundings now that he confirmed the presence of a spirit, and even with his guard up, he still kept a calm and friendly demeanor to his body language as he returned to the small living room and found his box of cookware in which he would dig out a couple of pots and pans and his knives. The fridge, ancient but running, was stocked with just a few essentials for Ethan to make himself a meal until he did proper shopping.

Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbow, he moved to the barely functioning fridge. Pulling out a package of fresh chicken thighs and green vegetables, he would begin the prep. Water would begin to run from the sink, and the sounds of a knife hitting a cutting board carried heavily through the otherwise silent and heavy apartment. Filled with a thick tension that he pushed to the back of his mind, ignoring it in hopes that this wouldn't be his final meal.

 

[Passion]

After she rolled by and noticed how the stranger's gaze followed her, she knew she was dealing with a psychic or a sensitive of some kind. She had learned in her many years in this form that many could not see her without a bunch of effort and energy on both of them. It was often the same with her voice, but he had caught even her soft speech.

Visiting? Yet, he was an unwelcome visitor. It was better than yelling at her and making demands to leave her own home, but the ghastly presence in the room was not happy with the news. The area seemed to get colder with her displeasure. If anything, he could be lying. Trying to get her guard down to then pull out some kind of item, spell, or who knew what at this point to try to banish her.

HE COULD NOT BE TRUSTED.​

It was puzzling when he invited her to eat. Ghost or not, she was also a stranger to him. The idea of him in her kitchen caused the ethereal mist to darken into a deeper gray, giving shade to a more solid figure of a young woman. The imprint of her short hair, a dainty frame, and what appeared to be a dress. Her image was fading in and out of view.

He would turn to leave, and she would follow through the bedroom, down the hall, and to the kitchen. Once she was in the room, it was as if the spirit became possessed.

The ghostly girl would rush towards him like a gust of violent wind. Floating, the specter towered over him, oozing with energy of rage and distress.

It was clear to see that the ghost that haunted here was far from happy. Why would she be? Surely, he had heard about all the failed attempts; those would get any ghost annoyed, but it wasn't just that. Whatever kept her chained to the realm of the living had to be strong to be this active, loud, and determined.

The cold silence would break with a ghastly scream that sounded like it was ripping through static:

"I DON'T WANT YOU IN MY KITCHEN! LEAVE NOW!"​

It was the kind of scream that could turn one's blood cold, and surely the units nearby would have heard and been painfully familiar with the sound. The screaming maiden seemed more vivid in the kitchen compared to the attic. Him being in the room was upsetting her greatly.

"I SAID LEAVE!"​

She would grab the cutting board and whip it against the wall with startling force. To many, it would look like just a flying cutting board, but the territorial ghost was not playing around.

Clearly, despite his kindness, he was not welcome. She would have to be forced to get used to his presence, how his energy shifted her space, but she wouldn't like it one bit. She wasn't known to coexist with the living. Chances were, he would just try to get rid of her like everyone else, and she wouldn't stand for it. It was easy to see why a spirit like her would have the label of evil, but that was different than angry.

 

[Osteo]

Everything right now was for Ethan to learn as much as he could about this spirit. Whatever information he could gather, good or bad. Tendencies, personality, what made the spirit tick and what may drive it to become aggressive and perhaps even more docile. He didn't expect her to follow him down immediately as her form became more vivid and clear. More corporeal for someone like him to interact with, but he kept his eyes forward and focused on himself while meal prepping. His actions seemed to cause the spirit distress, and she was full of rage and hatred towards him, flickering in and out of her shadowy mist that followed.

She would scream at him, near his ear, but he didn't budge, nor did he show any visible fear on his features. He kept himself calm even if underneath the skin his blood turned cold and he was thinking in the back of his mind if she was going to try and attack him but it seemed unlikely as the first thing she did when he ignored her scream was to grab the cutting board he was using for prep and hurling it towards the wall as it crashed and clattered to the floor with a thud.

"I'm sorry, but I can't leave. Not until I help you break free from the bond you have to this place, whatever is keeping you here against your will." He shifted to address her, carefully and slowly placing the knife down on the countertop. Showing his intentions were not to harm her, or be perceived as threatening.

His heart was beating faster, thumping in his chest, and in the icy silence, it could almost be heard. Even with such a calm, cool demeanor, his eyes locked onto where her face should be every time she flickered into existence and revealed the true nature of her spirit to him. It was like he was trying to peer into her eyes if she would let him, and that he was trying to approach this spirit differently from all the rest, but could he really be trusted?

"The owners of this apartment hired me to remove you, where others have failed, but I do not exorcise spirits such as yourself. I am here to help you. In my life and experience, something binds a spirit like yourself to this world, and if we can find what it is and give you closure, you can move on peacefully." His speech never worked on any spirit in his line of work. They could never trust him. A man dressed in black arrived, claiming to be a friend, while telling them that he was indeed here to remove them. It was almost too good to be true, what he was offering them. A peaceful rest and the ability to move on, something they weren't given when they were alive.

"Now my cooking isn't the best in the world, honestly, it is passable for being food to eat. I can order takeout instead if you would prefer." Now, he is trying to keep the situation from staying hostile and taking a jab at his own cooking skills. Doubting she would find humor in it or even a moment of peace.

Slowly, outside, a storm began to roll through as the soft rumble of thunder rolled through. Ethan's eyes stayed locked on the figure he could make out in the smoke, the wisps of the spirit that was posturing towards him in a threatening manner, but he didn't back down from his decision.

 

[Passion]

She was a ghost, and so she wasn't afraid of him using a knife against her, but it was unwise to leave one in front of a ghost already throwing things. Perhaps he knew that if she had truly wanted to hurt him, she would have thrown the cutting board at him instead of the wall. It seemed she was more warning him than anything, though it was the kind of warning that would make most people think twice about approaching her.

Many ghost stories told of whispers and fleeting mist, but the presence in Unit 781 was much different. With blurred details, she had become vivid enough to appear as the figure of a once-breathing woman. It was no wonder the property owners had gone to such lengths to get rid of her. Her strength anchored her here, and until the building crumbled, she would remain here.

Fading in and out of view, the kitchen was cold, heavy, and almost electric with the weight of the specter's simmering ethereal presence. It was strange how this human had hardly reacted. Usually, people started to curse at her or yell prayers, but he had just quietly collected himself.

Her goal was to scare him out quickly before he got too comfortable, before he altered the energy in the unit too much, as the living could interfere with her ethereal energy. The problem was that he seemed like a stubborn one for some reason.

"You are intruding," she corrected him with her perspective. "Especially in MY kitchen." The attic and the kitchen were both known for the most paranormal activity based on reports, and this moment was proving it true. The figure had become almost wild once she found him in the kitchen.

"I do not want to pass on. This is where I belong. I'm not done in this realm yet." Something was keeping her here.

"I can't eat." What put a pause on her bitterness was that the stranger had earlier said he knew others like her who could eat. How was that possible? "I am only like this." Another pause. "Is there a way I can eat?" That rage had turned into a tempting wonder. Maybe if she could learn to ground herself more in this realm, she could understand. Instead, she had been too worried about keeping what was hers.

While she was unsure about the man's cooking skills, what was most interesting was that he seemed to hear her clearly and could follow her silhouette. He was different from the others, but she still didn't like a stranger in her home. The ghost was still paranoid after so many had tried to get rid of her, so she remained guarded, yet curious.

The rolling storm in the background had seemed to make the ghost even more vivid. The energy behind the storm was adding to her strength enough that her features would be a bit clearer. Still, she didn't know how to take a physical form, and yet the 'demon of unit 781' was looking more like a forgotten young woman. One who was gazing at the nearby window as electricity ran through the gray skies.​

Maybe with the right push or guidance, her feet could feel the floor again.

"What are you trying to cook?" Maybe she could help, but would probably judge the stranger's cooking method. At least he had her questioning instead of attacking.

 

[Osteo]

Ethan had to learn the pattern and personality of each spirit he worked with, and this one was unique in its own way. It was tethered by something strong, but it didn't wish to be seen as the ghostly apparition flickered in front of him with every passing second that his heart beat in his chest. A cold sweat breaking on his temple and forehead, the slightest hint of his unease and nerves that were underneath the calm demeanor he put on in front of the spirit. He wouldn't be afraid or hostile openly, it would only empower the spirit more in their tactics or it may drive them away to hide if he was aggressive.

"I know." He didn't know what kept her here, why she still clung to this world, but he knew whatever it was needed to be completed first. Some sort of closure that he could try and give her to pass on.

The switch of her tune had changed, flicking back now towards the mention of eating and a meal in which she confirmed to him that she couldn't eat or perhaps she hadn't tried in a very long time since becoming a spirit. It was common in his line of work that these supernatural beings ranged from various sizes, shapes, appearances and abilities that they all uniquely possessed and what each one was capable of doing. The ones he found that could become more solid and take on an appearance were capable of eating. What happened to the food he wasn't sure yet, not a scientist or one to study the inner workings of a spirit he came to the conclusion that something spiritual or deadly happens to the food inside and it gets dispersed into some sort of energy, similar to how a human would process the food, but on a different level.

"It is hard to say. I've met many beings in my travels, many that could eat and many that couldn't. You may be able to, if you were more... physical in this world. Then maybe." He kept his choice of words clear and concise, still focused on an even tone and a slow speech pattern. His intention was to get her to open up, not to force her back into her shell, not that her walls were slowly falling down, even just a little, it was always a start. Something he could work with, latch onto, and build from.

"I'm not a chef, not much of a cook even. Just know how to make some basic things, but it was going to be some chicken, rice, and some choice veggies that I had ordered, like carrots, cabbage, and such." Curious as to when she was a human, what food was like then. What dishes would she be familiar with and may want to try, or even put her attention on that instead of on him.

Anything that he could get the spirit to focus on first.

"Apologies. I intruded your home and said I would be living her for some time, to help you. But I didn't give you my name." It was just a gesture. One even if she couldn't take, that he would still offer like an olive branch.

"My name is Ethan, do you have a name?"