He couldn’t describe it. Maybe it was becoming an addiction, this ghost hunting thing. Every cell in his body came alive on an investigation. His blood thrived on the adrenaline rush it produced, pumping through his body and seeping out of his pores with his sweat. The fight was a part of it. The drive. The hunger. He was starved for it. He began to crave it; thirst for it. Every lockdown, as they got closer and closer to the investigation site, his nerves lit on fire.
Addiction seemed like an appropriate word. Ghosts became his drug of choice. Investigations were the vessel through which they were delivered. His body ached for it. Living with the past in his home wasn’t enough sometimes. Other times it was too much. Too much. Maybe there was something that had nested in his soul; connected too much with him that drug him along and forced him into dangerous situations, screaming out at spirits he knew he couldn’t control. But that was half the fun of it, wasn’t it? Continue reading
Zak sat in his dungeon. It was the only place where he felt normal. Only in here was he himself. Outside… out there everything was different. He didn’t feel like he owned himself anymore. His soul had abandoned him to live in this dungeon and it had been replaced by those that he chased.
“Nick!” Zak screamed into the heavy air.
“Zak, breathe. Breathe,” Nick whispered soothingly, swinging the camera around. Watching him through the LCD screen, Nick felt his own body tense at the look of fear in Zak’s eyes.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, Zak felt the tainted air enter his lungs, watching the dark shape that was Nick as he stood in front of him. “Nick…,” he whispered. Continue reading
Zak sat in the darkened room alone, senses heightened in his new environment. He could hear Aaron and Nick moving to their locations before it went quiet. Staring his digital recorder, Zak took a deep breath. “Is there anyone in here with me?” he asked.
He hoped there wasn’t. Being with two other guys and doing an investigation was one thing, but being alone in a closed room in an abandoned insane asylum is another. For the show, however, he was Mr. Badass Ghost Hunter/Provoker. “If there is, I’m all alone in this little room here. I’m all yours.” Continue reading
They had holed up in a house in a small development far off the main road. None of the houses had even been lived in yet. Most were not even finished being built, but there had been one house at the end of the street that must have been set up as the model home, complete with new furnishings. Rick laughed the laughter of an exhausted man who had felt all hope was lost. The little group wouldn’t all be able to have a bed, but that didn’t matter. They were safe and together. So Terminus had been beyond a bust. They were here and alive and that was all that mattered now.
Except for that whole lack of food thing. But that was only a minor issue…
Everyone insisted that Rick take a bed, who in turn insisted that everyone but him have a bed. Carl stalked around the house, still not entirely forgiving his father in his teenage mind for things that had been out of their control. Rick could care less what his teenage son thought of him at that moment because he still had him. Continue reading