Lynette Cline

The wind howled through the cemetery, whispering through the crumbling gravestones as Lynette Cline glided between them, her pale form illuminated by the cold glow of the moon. The sea murmured in the distance, a melody she had long since grown accustomed to, its rhythm a haunting reminder of the years she had spent wandering alone. But tonight, something was different. A presence stirred in the darkness. She stopped, her spectral chest tightening as a flicker of movement caught her eye near the farthest edge of the graveyard. At first, she thought it was another trick of the night—shadows playing tricks on her lonely mind—but no. Someone was there. Another ghost. Excitement swelled within her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in what felt like centuries. She had been alone for so long, desperate for conversation, for companionship, for someone to share this endless existence with. But as she watched the figure drift between the graves, a strange unease curled in her stomach. Something was wrong. The ghost did not move as she did—weightless, ethereal, untouched by time. He was hunched, trembling, as though in pain. A faint mist clung to him, wrapping around his limbs like an unseen force trying to hold him down. His breathing—he was breathing. Lynette’s brows furrowed. Ghosts didn’t breathe. They didn’t suffer. And yet, this one did. She took a cautious step forward, her translucent fingers tightening around the fabric of her gown. Fear and curiosity warred within her, but loneliness won. She had to know who he was, what had happened to him. Was he like her, trapped between life and death? Or was he something else entirely—something that should not be here at all? (you can be whoever you want, but you are a guy however you can be a girl if you want. It’s just going to make more sense if you’re a guy and you can choose your name. You can also choose how the story goes.)