There was nothing like being betrayed by your own body.

Rayshade hovered above the pebble path to the House, his aura exuding all the melancholy he felt. The sign was the color of algae on murky water, bearing the words he dreaded:

The House of Slyspore. Accommodation Available. Contact Ace for more information.

It felt like a perverted cosmic joke on him. Everything he loved slipped from his grasp eventually. Why did he think this house would differ from his pattern of misfortune?

Ironic. He had more problems dead than when he was alive.

He watched helplessly as Soldier and his new best friend straightened up the sign, sticking the metal pole into the ground. Its, not his, he corrected himself.

Two weeks passed since Slyspore found his grave tree. Two weeks of watching Soldier, re-christened Half-Smile, spending mornings with the Slyspore, gardening with her, cooking with her, cleaning with her. What in the world was a Half-Smile? And where did Soldier suddenly get the mental capacity for such complicated tasks? Last Rayshade checked, the zombie dug his fingers in his ears for amusement.

Rayshade had a plan though. Yes – he would haunt the House with all his will. He would haunt Slyspore, destroy her garden, and ensure her business ventures failed. And he would haunt any new tenants who decided to set foot in his home. He’d send them scrambling out the door and back where they came from.

That was if anybody was even desperate enough to live here and pay money for it. Who was Slyspore kidding? Sure, she cleaned the place. Brightened it up. But with all the rumours … people would sooner use the House as a set for a horror movie than have breakfast in it. The fact that it was owned by a Necromancer didn’t help its cause.

All this Rayshade told himself as consolation for the hurt he felt. The fear of his safe haven being snatched from him occupied his every thought.

The sky seemed to tease him today. It was too bright, not even a looming cloud to reflect his mood. In fact, if Rayshade wasn’t so heartbroken, he would have thought it was a beautiful day to have a picnic.

He fought the urge to uproot the neighbours flowers when Springtail curled up next to him. The dog groaned as if convincing itself that it was alive.

“We are not friends,” Rayshade said.

Springtail’s ears perked, but he was silent.

Both man and dog ghosts lounged there under the sunny skies, watching the living concoct their money-making schemes.

“The neighbours were watching, you know,” Rayshade said to Soldier when they were in the kitchen later. “They’re stirring rumours again. Curious about the Slyspore. About you.”

“Grrraaaf!” He growled back irritably.

“I know,” Slyspore replied with a gleam in her eyes. “I’m excited too.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Soldier tapped his fingers on the table, leaning a little towards Rayshade as if to say see? You’re old news, pal. Be like a ghost and disappear.

They were seated at the dining table again, as per their newly adapted routine. Here, over meals that were always one-sided, the big decisions took place.

Today Slyspore was looking at various electrical companies to form a contract with. She seemed to avoid the most obvious and glaring option: MagiTech.

Hardly a company, more like a giant corporation, MagiTech was basically the mother of their current global system of teleportation. It was owned by a billionaire red-eyed goblin, one cunning and agile enough to have sprung out of hiding and immediately discover a way to profit off of the solution to the climate crises. MagiTech’s teleports and solar panels were everywhere – and Gigglemug was well on his way to being the first trillionaire.

Slyspore was reading the company’s website with tight lips. Whether she disapproved of trillionaires or goblins, Rayshade didn’t know.

Perhaps she disapproved of Amalgam altogether – MagiTech’s precious hybrid bio-metal that made the fusion between Fae magic and human tech possible, giving creatures the means to create an entire artificial continent on Earth.

“What if we just kept the glowing mushrooms, hmm?” She said with amusement, not like she was really considering it.

“Hrmm?” Soldier mimicked her.

Rayshade glided to the window. Night was falling around them. He gazed at the silhouette of the forest nearby, at the tree-tops swaying.

“And,” Slyspore continued, “we have to do something about these cold drafts. Maybe a heater? Does this place even have any insulation? Now that’s gonna cost a lot more…”

She was talking more to herself than Soldier, but the zombie turned his head to lock eyes with Rayshade. In spite, Rayshade glided across the kitchen again.

The Slyspore shivered. Her attention didn’t waver from her screen.

Soldier stood suddenly, tossing his chair backwards.

“Half-Smile?”

“I’m a ghost, bud,” Rayshade taunted, “what are you gonna do?”

“Half-Smile,” Slyspore pressed, “you need something?”

It was too much for his rotting brain to comprehend. Soldier stood there, directing his gruesome stare at Rayshade. He growled low.

Slyspore turned to look straight through Rayshade. Her brows furrowed together in a frown, her eyes jumping from wall to ceiling but never seeing anything.

Something deflated a little more within Rayshade. He had spent most of his afterlife in isolation, convincing himself that it was because it was safer that way.

Somehow, being this close to an actual person after so long, and having said person not even sense his presence, hurt more than he liked to admit.

Rayshade made sure to express the strain in his voice. “This is really what you want, Soldier? To have our home colonized by strangers? To be this Necromancer’s sidekick?”

“Hraf-Smrr.”

“A new name doesn’t change what you are.”

“Brarf.”

“Do you see the way she looks at you?”

Slyspore was watching Soldier with pity. As if on cue, she said: “I know you must be worried. I haven’t forgotten about your case. I promise once the electric and insulation problem is settled, I will work on helping you. I promised.”

Rayshade laughed. “She can’t help us when she doesn’t even know half the problem, Soldier. What kind of Necromancer can’t see ghosts? Besides, after she’s sorted out the insulation, there’ll be other problems. Endless problems with this House. It’s a mess. But it was our mess before she came along.”

Soldier hung his head. Confused. Irritated. Rayshade hoped so.

“Hey,” Slyspore said, her tone so gentle it made Rayshade envy his body. “Don’t despair. I’ll find who did this to you. All hope isn’t lost as long as you remember that someone loved you very much to break the laws of Necromancy for you. Their methods were a bit questionable, but I know it was out of love. We’ll find them together.”

“Hope,” Rayshade spat the word with bitterness. She was giving a zombie hope. He had long abandoned the sentiment, his own memories being so far gone that the words on his grave tree were the only reminder of his name, his identity. Let alone remembering people who were in his life.

Nobody visited his grave. It was logical to assume he had no one.

Slyspore took Soldier’s green hands, caked with blood and purple flesh, in her own. “Never thought I’d say this to a zombie but, you have me, alright? You’re not alone. You’re a good friend. And we’d be great landlords together, I know it.”

Rayshade glided out of the kitchen before he heard any more of her sorry speech.