Specter  

  Not all houses are haunted, not every spirit is lost. Some Specters roam freely, untethered to place or person. Some find solace among people, reaching out across the veil, straining to whisper a word, lay a gentle hand or tap out a faint message. Come, and sit next to the fire awhile, can you hear the small voice? Soft and sweet whispering of lost times and precious vintage things. A victorian and rich sensibility washes over you, and images of candlelit ballrooms filled with dancing elegant couples. Wreaths and garlands of roses, jasmine, and lily bloom on every surface. Swirling colored satin ball gowns reflect in antique mirrors lining the Morris floral wallpapered walls. Faces blurred by light and movement flash before you. The dancing and floods of emotion threaten to overwhelm you, who are you? When and where are you? Dancing forever, dancing in golden candlelight, is this you?  A sudden violent shaking occurs, and a hand strikes your face.

  Sweat is now pouring down your brow, as stunned silence fills the parlors seance table.

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 Not all Specters are wandering. Some seek homes in those who open up to them.