The Wraith

Pamela eyed the villagers in one particular town by the forest and sighed. Ever since the people of Bal'Wren had become united there weren't anymore wars. They didn't need to fight if they were all Bal'Wrenians.

It used to be if you met a man on the road in the middle of the day who said, "Hello," instead of, "The moon shines brightly," then you'd fight to the death. Those were the days. How were Pamela and her friends supposed to haunt properly without places to haunt. She shook her head. What was the world coming to?

So, the local peoples of Bal'Wren thought that they brought bad luck. So, they tried to kill Pamela and her friends at every instance. Pamela giggled when she remembered the local rumors that the wraiths were immortal. Ha. That was funny. But as long as they stopped shooting at her next time she took advantage of someone being murdered, she didn't care what they thought. They could think that Pamela was part of the undead for all she cared. Oh, wait...

Pamela heard raised voices and floated closer to the town. This sounded promising. Ooh! A stranger! And apparently this stranger wasn't a Bal'Wrenian. Ooooh! If only they killed him she could start howling in the forest. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a good howling. She watched as the strange man raised his fist and shook it angrily. Oooh and...! Nothing. The villagers laughed and so did the strange man. No one brought a sword, or a dagger, or just a really shiny pointy thing! Pamela sighed and floated back into the dark recesses of the forest. Perhaps she could go to the capitol. No royal court could be as peaceful as things around here had been. At least someone had to die. Anything would be better than here.

Maybe she'd have to find some nice rabbit hole to haunt. Rabbits die all the time.

Pamela chuckled darkly at her unhumourous sense of humour as she set out for a better place for haunting.

The End

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