The castle was slowly becoming darker and darker during the night. Mark and Elisabeth walked around the painting and studied them. The painted lightened and the scene in the picture started t play like a film. Dragons fighting, criminals running, discussions between wizard and many others the pair watched.
“I’ve never heard of this writer. Have you Elisabeth?” Mark asked her.
“No I haven’t. But these visions in his stories are wonderful. Rich in colors, his illustrators must have been masters in their art,” she spoke out.
Suddenly the characters in the paintings stopped their actions and looked towards the main doors of the party room. Mark and Elisabeth watched the paintings and slowly turned to the doors. A green steam was given off and leaked through the doors.
“After you?” Mark said to Elisabeth.
She passed Mark and stood next to the doors, “You have to come with me. Who knows what the castle and the Ghost Writer is up to,” she said to him.
Mark followed her and they both looked at the doors and looked at each other.
“I love the designs on the door,” he hesitantly said.
The wardrobe to the Ghost Writer’s lit up when his skeleton hand brushed along his clothes and grabbed a suit out. He looked over it and dusted it over a couple times.
“They shouldn’t have come into my land like that. They will the full power of the Ghost Master, the writer in the darkness!” he laughed to himself in his study.
The humans were pushing on the doors to open but they were locked for now.
“What’s wrong with this place? It’s falling apart!” Mark cried out.
“Maybe he’s hiding something?” thought Elisabeth.
“Why can’t he just let this all end!” he yelled out towards the door.
The character knight designs on the door lit up blue and they uncrossed swords and the doors opened. They walked inside to see a ghostly choir of children inside.
“What secrets you see inside, must stay inside. What secrets you see inside, must stay inside. Oh what eccentrics what despair. What has come over your hearts? The end is nigh, the end is here!” they sung at the pair.
They started to disappear as the other ghosts appeared in their place. The Ghost Writer had arrived. Mark watched a tall clock tower in the right hand corner striking another hour that had past.
“What’s happening now,” Mark said.
The Ghost Writer appeared in front of the group of ghosts in a blue Chinese dragon suit and dark silvery sunglasses. He gave a weird smile at everyone. He stared at Elisabeth and Mark and clicked his fingers. The other ghosts followed and as an army walked towards the humans. Elisabeth and Mark moved back worried and the Ghost Writer took off his sun glasses and stooped his foot and the ghosts stopped moving with him. As he moved a step closer to them, he stooped his foot and the other ghosts copied him.
“I wanna dance now!” stoop when the ground.
“I wanna scream now! I wanna right now!” his arms straight as a tree down his body. The heads tilted to their left and their green eyes flicked on and off.
“I wanna dance now, I wanna scream now, I wanna right now!” he yelled out as the ghost’s calls grew louder and louder.
The room exploded in ball of fire and the pair was thrown to the doors of the party room. A huge wind of power blew towards the Ghost Writer and his army’s way. His blue suit and the ghost’s ghastly ripped clothes blew in the wind.
“Ghosts are shaking, the chairs are rockin’. There’s an evil mind lurking in the dark. Don’t you look at me my dear. The longer you’re here, the worse it gets,” he cried out.
“Look into my eyes and your world begins to change and now you know the truth. This soul is out to kill.”
The music and the noise were loud and the pair watched the ghosts wander around the room. Elisabeth took off and ran up the stairs towards the Ghost Writers study room.
“Screamer, Screamer, Screamer!” the ghosts roared out.
“See the fire in their eyes!” the Ghost Writer cried at the pair.
“I think we should get out of here. He doesn’t want us to be here anymore!” Mark shouted at Elisabeth.
“No Mark! He uses song and dance to confuse his visitors. It’s through his writing and the illustrations of the paintings that truly reveal his heart!” she cried back at him.
The pair entered the opened study room and Elisabeth saw the title of his novels and his writing on his desk. She quickly went through the papers quickly and saw a couple notes.
“A soul that cries of shame has been found in my darkness days. He knows and understand like me,” she whispered to herself.
“Screamer, Screamer, Screamer!’ roared the ghosts and demons down on the death Dancefloor.
“We have no time to lose. What are we to do now?” Mark cried.
“Confront him!” she cried at him and ran out of the room.
The Ghost Writer turned to his fellow friends and raised his hand towards the humans.
“Look into my eyes and your world begins to change and now you know the truth. This soul is out to kill,” he cried out.
A sudden boom of a voice came from the stairs, it was Elisabeth, and “Do you have heart? Do you understand life as it was before your death?” she yelled out in the Dancefloor.
“A life of life is no one for me,” he cried back at her.
“But you know it. You write it so you must have known the life you left?”
“Some writings need neither experience nor knowledge to create it.”
“But you have the passion! You give a part of your soul each time you write. I see in your words. I feel it in my heart,” she cried reaching the bottom of the stairs.
“Such words won’t fool me Elisabeth. I am the undead, the unloved. It is what I have become and that is all I am today.”
“Even the unloved have feeling because they feel unloved in the first place.”
“I am a Ghost!” he roared across the floor and the other ghosts frozen in their places and watched on.
“From my birth to my death I have never understood the coldness of the world nor why my heart was never fulfilled by a true love. That is why I remain here. Haunted by loneliness and the gods above sent me to this castle to write forever under the green skies above. My heaven is here, all around the dead. That is where my dreams have taken me,” the Ghost Writer said in defeat.
Elisabeth’s eyes soften and Mark wandered off to the other ghosts and frowned.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly to the Ghost Wrier.
“There is nothing to say. All is said and done.”
The death Dancefloor grew darker and green candles only gave light into the room. Elisabeth moved to the corner of the room and he Ghost Wrier was tiring. He leaned with his hand to the ground. His eyes turned from green to black and white, the coldness in the castle had arrived. A tear fell from the undead to the ground and the moonlight suddenly moved to Elisabeth as if from a force stronger than the Ghost Writer. The ghosts, demon, zombies paused at the moment. Mark stood still and didn’t want any more dramas tonight. The Ghost Writer slowly looked up at Elisabeth in the moonlight and the wind blew the ghostly looking green dress. Mark looked at the other ghosts as they were fixed on her.
“I come to you from the light. Bring you the promise of a new life. To share with you under the stars. Look beyond your assumptions and open your heart to me,” she sung out.
The Ghost slowly rose from the ground and his eyes changed color with word she sung.
“For you’re the beautiful soul I sing to tonight. A voice that breaks apart the darkness and the shadows that haunts your heart,” she moved next to the Ghost Writer and even bats and shadows stopped playing in the dark to watch.
“Hold out your skeleton hand to me. There is no more fear inside of me. Your soul outshines the creature you have become. Let me fulfill your one last dream and open up your heart to me.”
The creatures in the dark circled the pair as the Ghost Writer and Elisabeth started to slowly dance around the middle of the floor.
“For you’re the beautiful soul I sing to tonight. A voice that breaks apart the darkness and the shadows that haunts your heart.”
“Dance with me into this strange dream. Melt your sorrows with mine and let us cast them to the winds into the darkness tonight. For your beautiful soul I sing to tonight. A voice that breaks apart the darkness and the shadows that haunts your heart.”
The ghosts stood still and watched the pair stop in the middle of the room under the roof window above, “I come to you from the light. To sing to you tonight. Open up your heart and let your beautiful soul take flight.”
The clock tower from the room that could be heard stopped suddenly and the green clouds covered the roof window. Mark and the others watched on, time had stopped for the end of all dreams.
“I love you Ghost Writer,”
The ghost’s eyes widen when the clouds gathered above them. Mark looked above and his eyes told of danger to come.
“Elisabeth!” he shouted out in the room.
The lightening strike the pair in each other arms, the Ghost Writer knew the power was powerful and he stole a kiss from the girl. The lightening transformed into a green twister and out lashed the groups of the undead. The shielded themselves from the awesome power. The girl was seduced by the magic and madness of the moment. Mark was still standing still and thought about the Ghost Writer out loud.
“Past the castle doors and beyond the ghastly study, there lives a writer. In a land that mixes imagination and reality. His eyes ever so watchful. His skeleton hand holds her face and time has stopped to watch,” he spoke out blankly.
The green lightening poured out sparks and power towards the ghosts but they stood and took the damage to them. Mark and the ghosts then watched a white light beamed down through the roof top. Mark fell to the ground and the ghosts ran back to the walls of the room. The white beam was attacking the lightening and soon the white beam sucked up the lightened and the middle of the room was clear again. There was sign of Elisabeth or the Ghost Writer. Mark quickly climbed to his feet and saw there was nothing left.
“Did the lightening kill them? They died?” Mark cried in shock.
He wandered around the middle in sadness and wondered what happened to them. A painting in the corner of the room taped on the painting and Mark and the ghosts turned to see it. It was one of the wizards, however he was lone wizard and dressed in a brown jacket and had a wand in the jacket.
“I might be able to help you with that one,” he called out.
Mark quickly jogged to the painting and cried out, “Do you know what happened to them.”
“Well isn’t it easy to figure out?” he asked Mark.
‘No it isn’t. The lightening killed them, is that what you think?” he asked the wizard.
“No. The Ghost Writer finally fulfilled his final wish of finding a soul mate. The same last wish could have been for Elisabeth,” the wizard explained.
“And she died by the lightened?” Mark went on thinking.
“Yes sadly. The Ghost Writer stole that kiss so she wouldn’t have to become a ghost herself. I guess now they are in the afterlife. They live in the stars now together. Strange how one night can change you,” said the wizard.
“So that’s the end then. My friends are dead,” Mark lowered his head down.
The wizard leaned down from the painting and looked at him.
“Well someone has to look after the Ghost Writer’s castle and keep the legend alive,” the wizard said.
“Well I don’t have a job so that should do for me,” Mark said.
“Like the Ghost Writer said. No one comes out alive,” the wizard reminded him.
Mark just smiled to himself and looked at the ghosts and then turned back to the wizard.
“Can I just visit the castle and live somewhere else. I mean the dead people, I’m not racist but they’re dead!” he cried at the painting.
“We’ll give you your life only because you somehow helped the Ghost Writer. I saw that drinking drunk walking around the castle and graveyards,’ the wizard said.
Mark slowly walked past the paintings and saw the major doors to the graveyards open up and he went outside. The castle doors were closed and there was a present on the ground for Mark. He picked it up and it was a pen with the true name of the writer.
“So the mystery is solved. What a strange and weird night it was. But it was the perfect night for them,” he smiled to himself and slowly wandered into the graveyard and back to the house alone. He knew no one would believe him, only those in the pub or in places of the world where they believe in the undead.