The ghosts on the far side of the river were difficult to make out. Like the armless ghost that I had seen while playing the Ten Second Game, they almost looked like they were placed in the scene so that they would be hard to see at first glance. It was like the world’s creepiest game of I Spy.

I spy a legless Civil War-era soldier crawling behind a bush. I spy a woman staring at us from behind a dead tree. I spy a man holding his own head in the shadows.

The only way I could really make them out properly was on the red wallpaper, which showed them plainly in their broken forms. I had expected them to be like J.T. Guzman, but it appeared they were a different “type” of ghost in the context of this story.

Flood of Spirits

Plot Armor: 40

__________

Tropes

Fungible Enemy

This enemy is composed of countless largely interchangeable units whose numbers will not diminish until the scene is concluded. There always seems to be more to come.

Strength In Numbers

The enemy is at its strongest in groups. Singling its members out will weaken them substantially.

Be Our Guest

This entity’s purpose is to guide characters toward the next scene or keep them from leaving the setting when they wander too far.

Hive Mind

This creature's mind is linked to that of similar creatures.

Walking Crime Scene

This entity’s ghostly form reveals clues as to the nature of its demise.

Their Be Our Guest trope spelled out that they were border enemies meant to keep us from wandering off. They were not the primary antagonist.

That was little comfort as the ghosts seemed to flood in from across the river.

The NPC that had been with Sidney was dragged back into the forest in the distance. He screamed the entire time. I couldn’t make out which entity was doing it. Perhaps they all were. They were acting as one unit, stopping us from venturing too far.

Sidney and The Stranger made it to shore and embraced each other. Their reunion was cut short as the ghosts kept coming.

Bobby was already dragging Antoine away from Kimberly’s broken body while he protested. “I’ve got to bring her body back!”

Isaac was tearfully leading the pack. I joined the caravan as we moved further up the mountain. Dina was already out of sight.

The ghosts gave chase, but never abandoned their game of hide and seek. I never saw one break into a sprint or actually move. I just saw the group "flood" forward as new ghosts came into view in the scenery. It was more of a hike through a haunted forest than a proper Chase Scene, though that status was lit.

Sidney held The Stranger’s hand and pulled him up the mountain behind her. In her other hand, she still carried the vanity mirror by its wooden leg.

"I knew you were alive," he said tearfully.

"Dad... Everyone else is dead. I didn't mean for any of this."

"I know you didn't. Neither did I. We just have to make it back to the suite. Everything will be okay."

I didn't hear the whole conversation. They did a lot of back and forth, giving Carousel all of the stuff it needed to stitch together its reunion scene.

Antoine eventually interrupted.

“What’s the mirror for?” he asked, his voice cracking from either physical or emotional pain. One of us had to.

Sidney looked down at the object in her hand. “It confuses them,” she said. “They don’t like seeing it.”

I had other questions. Too many questions.

“Why did we have to cover the mirrors?” I asked. “The rules for the Ten Second Game said we had to.”

Sidney shook her head. “I don’t know. I assumed it was because they were like windows, that spirits could pass through them. We had no idea what we were getting into.”

Mirrors had to have something to do with the whole ordeal. Kimberly’s strange encounter in the bathroom had established that. Of course, we may have simply avoided that whole storyline by not following it up. That didn’t bother me any, but it did leave unanswered questions.

The ghosts stopped following us as we arrived yet again back at the field downhill from the suite.

The window was open again.

“Careful,” I said. “It could be a trap.”

The dark figure was nowhere to be found. That was worrying.

“Even then,” Antoine said. “I’d rather be trapped in the house than free out here.”

That was something to consider.

We waited for a beat. I was right to suspect the worst.

J.T. Guzman, our dead spectral friend, stepped out from beside the window. He wasn’t quite himself. Thin black threads impaled his pale skin. I could barely make it out. Even at this distance, I could see his fear.

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He stepped out of the window and began walking toward us.

“Help!” he screamed. “It’s after me.”

We huddled together. We weren’t going to outrun him. Even if we did, the story wasn’t going to move forward that way. We had just been corralled up in this direction.

Antoine, despite his injury, took the lead. He supported himself on his bat, but he was ready to wield it at a moment’s notice. Whatever good that would do.

“Just let us go!” he screamed. “What do you want?”

Suddenly, J.T. stopped screaming. It was like something took control. He went from a yelling spirit caught in a trap to a puppet.

“You didn’t fall for it, huh?” J.T. said. They weren’t his words though. It wasn’t even like he was possessed. It was more like he was being held at gunpoint and forced to say the line.

J.T. stopped talking. He moved his mouth, but the entity controlling him was speaking from behind him.

“I just wanted to play,” he said. “I saw some kids talking to ghosts and thought that looked like fun. I have an interest in the subject. I think you can tell. I always liked ghost stories. This one is a bit cliché, though, right? I practically know the script by heart.”

He laughed. He was going full meta in the way that a Film Buff was supposed to. I hadn’t done it often because I was afraid of breaking the fourth wall too hard. This person didn’t care.

“Some kids find a game that lets them talk to the dead. Spooky stuff. A jump scare or two, sure. But you better run from the blue light. Remember that part of the rules? Who knows what that’ll do? Best not ever test it. I could have waited for you to find your way back in the house, but I decided against it.”

He laughed again. As he did, a withered arm slowly reached out from behind him. It was holding an ornate blue lantern. The arm was pale and atrophied.

J.T. turned. As he did, the owner of the arm came into view and J.T. disappeared.

The figure before us might have been a man once, but now, it was a disfigured wraith beyond recognition. He wore loose clothing and a hood. His feet were bloody stumps. The figure was twisted and ancient as if it were arthritis incarnate. Groans came from the man’s mouth. It was like he was trying to talk but was unable.

Lantern Bearer (Wraith)

Plot Armor: 55

__________

Tropes

Fate Worse Than Death

This entity does not want to kill its victims, though, in the end, they will wish it had. Victims are Written-Off instead of killed.

Don’t Show the Monster

This entity is not scripted to appear On-Screen. Only the effects of its existence are detectable.

Interests Align

This entity does not need the players to lose in order to achieve its goals.

6 Additional Tropes not Perceptible

He tried to speak. All I heard were groans.

The voice from the shadowy figure returned.

“Poor fellow can’t even move his jaw it’s been so long. More ghost than man now. Oh, wait. You weren’t supposed to see him at all were you? It's scarier when he's just a distant blue light.”

He laughed.

“Want to know what would happen if you saw the man with the blue lantern? In the little game you were playing?”

He paused.

He turned the man’s head toward Antoine. I didn’t see what happened, but I figured it out soon enough.

Antoine’s Infection status lit up.

That was the gimmick of the wraith. Possession of some kind.

The man under the control of the shadowy figure started to groan. He tried to move, but his old bones were no match for the figure that bound him.

Antoine lifted up his bat. “I only hoped that someone would take my burden,” he said, tearfully.

Then, as if he had no injury at all, he stood up. He brought his bat down hard on The Stranger’s head with a sickening crack.

Over and over again. It was such a surprise no one had time to react at first.

When Sidney tried to stop him, he threw her to the side. Her mirror shattered as she hit the ground.

“Antoine fight it!” I screamed because I needed to do something.

“Antoine’s over here,” the dark figure said from behind the pale wraith.

I looked at the man. I saw in his cataract-covered eyes that it was true. Antoine’s soul was in the decrepit old wraith.

Antoine’s body stopped beating The Stranger just as Second Blood passed and we entered the Finale.

“This is not what I wanted,” Antoine’s mouth said.

There was a moment of silence as the rest of us contemplated what to do.

“Anyway,” the dark figure said.

Something happened. Suddenly Antoine started crying out. His Infected status switched to off.

The pale man stopped making noise. The whole time, he never let go of the lantern. It was like his fingers were welded closed over its handle.

I caught myself staring at the lantern. Strange. I really wanted to take it from the man.

But that passed as Antione fell to the ground in pain.

“In the ghost story, the teens survive the night after their harrowing experiences,” the dark figure said. “It looks like all is well, but just as they're leaving the haunted house, one of the teens looks in the mirror and instead of his own reflection, it’s the old man! That’s how it ends, right? Possession is fun, but body swapping is a whole other thing. I like to remain in control myself.”

Antoine recovered from his temporary possession. He took his now bloody bat and used it to push himself to his feet.

“I’ll ask again,” Antoine screamed. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”

“It's like I said; I just wanted to play the game. See you in the finale.”

Off-Screen.

The old man with the lantern turned. He disappeared and was replaced by a woman who dressed like a drenched Lucille Ball, makeup running everywhere. Water ran down from the top of her head to the ground in a light pitter-patter.

“Whoever said brains over brawn never got hit in the head with a baseball, huh,” the woman said, looking over at The Stranger’s dead body. She didn’t fight for control as much as J.T. did. From the look of her, she had been dead quite a while. I could tell it was the figure speaking through her though. She looked from Antoine to me. “I have to go put this lantern guy back before I get in trouble. Between you and me, I don’t think I was supposed to collect him.”

The figure laughed from behind her.

We watched as the dark figure walked his host’s dripping body into the distance, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

We looked around at each other in shock. I didn’t know what to think about this enemy.

“Dammit,” Sidney said, examining her shattered mirror.

She walked up to The Stranger’s body and nudged it with her foot.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Sometimes he fakes it,” she answered.

I didn’t think he was faking it. His head wasn’t exactly shattered, but still, the sound of Antoine’s bat hitting his skull had been pretty definitive.

Antoine was taking in deep breaths to calm himself. He looked shaken.

I approached him cautiously. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Yep.”

His body shook against his will. He was not okay.

We made our way to the suite.

“What’s the story here?” I asked Sidney. “The bad guy just lets us go to the suite for no reason?”

“That guy went way off script,” Sidney said.

“The enemy did?” Dina asked, having reappeared. “They can do that?”

“Apparently. Most enemies don’t know they’re in Carousel, how could they? They would screw everything up. Some though, some know everything. They like it here. Still, I don’t know what that guy’s deal is.”

I climbed in the window first and helped the others through.

“He left us a gift,” Dina said, pointing to the bed where the Ten Second Bell sat. That was good in the sense that it meant we could ward off ghosts, but it would be hard to explain why we suddenly had it back.

“Don’t use that one,” Sidney said. “It makes no sense for him to leave that for us. She pulled something out of her pocket. It was a plastic version of the bell that must have been manufactured for a more modern version of the Reply the Departed board game. “We can just use mine.”

We walked into the living room.

“That scene didn’t go like it was supposed to. How are we supposed to know what’s next?” Dina asked.

Bobby spoke up. “While Strander Blake rips the soul from his Second Blood victim, the remaining players run for the safety of the suite where they will prepare for the Final Bat— Oops. It disappeared."

He was reading off his limited script. It really paid to have an honorary NPC in the party.

“Strander Blake?” I asked. “I couldn’t even see him on the red wallpaper.”

It sounded like he was supposed to kill The Stranger differently than he did.

“Well maybe he’s shy,” Sidney said casually like this was just another day at work. “We need to get ready. Don’t forget. We still have to play the game as soon as we’re On-Screen again. Where's the rule sheet?”

I was just glad to be back in the suite instead of out there in the dead world.

If I never spoke to another ghost it would be too soon.