"Kill. Kill. Kill. Hurt them. Hunt them. Make them pay. Make it hurt."

The Ghost Story opened its eyes and let the whispers flow in. They were wonderful, pleasurable even. A warm embrace from her creator. Proof that the one in the shadows loved the Ghost Story.

The tall pine trees of its forest grew up from the ground like pillars. They seem to reach higher than the Ghost Story could imagine. One of the people that it hunted had told it a story about a place where the trees were red and taller than mountains. Sometimes the Ghost Story liked to imagine that place. It struggled to do so. All it could see in its mind were the whispers. It didn't matter; The Ghost Story only had one purpose: to hunt the others.

The ghost story had only existed for 2 years, but in that time it had learned a great deal. It had figured out how to pick apart the prey it hunted. It had lost the last battle. The ghost story had been sloppy and had been found out. It was going to change its approach.

Today, it was going to start with the tall girl, Grace. She was easy to fool. Gullible by her very nature. Easily trusting. She also had a relationship with the clever one, Mark. He always struggled to spot the Ghost Story when she wore Grace's face.

It made the surprise so much better. Each time the Ghost Story attacked him while wearing her body, it eroded their love more and more. It made them suffer, and the Ghost Story reveled in their suffering. Anything to please, it's master. To make the whispering happy.

The Ghost Story crept from its forest home, moving towards the town of Bright Shore. The humans had taken to living in a cave there. The birds chirped in the trees around it. The ghost story chirped back, mimicking the sounds of the birds perfectly. It was a fun game the ghost story liked to play to pass the time. After all, the forest was its domain, and the birds were its followers. They were the perfect camouflage if it needed to escape.

Soon, the Ghost Story had left the woods behind. It stopped on the edge of the forest and transformed its body. It shrank its legs and arms. Its skin grew freckles and became less pale. Finally, it changed its face and grew long black hair. The ghost story looked just like Grace Collins. It was time for the hunt to begin.

It made its way past the center wheel to the town of Brightshore. The ghost story did not like the buildings and concrete of the town. It was born of the forest and lakes. Human civilization was not meant for it.

The Ghost Story had a plan to make its hunt successful. First, it needed to kill Grace Collins. It's suspected that it would not be a challenge to kill her. After all, it was Grace's turn to do what they called the grocery run. That meant she would be in Brightshore.

***

It was not Grace Collins that the Ghost Story found in town. It was the man with shaggy brown hair and a strange accent. The one called Stevey Walker. This was not something the ghost story was happy about for two reasons. The first is obvious. It ruined the Ghost Story's plan to use Grace's face to kill Mark.

The second and more irritating reason was that Stevey was very hard to copy. The man had a strange way of behaving. He was always quick to make a joke and surprisingly witty when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, this was not a skill the Ghost Story had, despite its best efforts. But it couldn't be helped. It would have to be Stevey's face that it used to infiltrate the cave.

The Ghost Story slid out from the shadow of the alley it had concealed itself in. Before Stevey spotted it, it called out to him using Grace's voice.

“Stevey. I hoped I'd find you quickly. The others thought I should join you. It'll help make the run faster.”

Stevey turned to look at her and frowned.

“Grace? The fuck are you doing out here? We decided I was going out alone today. You're supposed to be back at the cave. One at a time, those are the rules we set up,” he said.

“To hell with the rules. We don't need them. I was bored and needed to get out of the cave. Today was supposed to be my day anyway,” The Ghost Story said in the voice of Grace.

“What about the shapeshifter?” Stevey asked.

She knew that was coming. Her only hope here was that they hadn't changed the password she knew.

“My code is apricot. Now yours.” The Ghost Story said.

“Sunrise.”

The Ghost Story smiled as if relieved. In reality, it was the grin of a cat that had caught the canary. She managed to figure out Stevey's code. That would make things easier.”

“I don't like this. We have rules for a reason, Grace,” Stevey said, “but fine. Let's make the grocery run quick.”

Stevey wasn't making jokes. Maybe all the times she'd killed had finally gotten to him. The Ghost Story approached while still wearing Grace's face. The whispering in her mind became louder the closer she got to him.

“Kill him. Kill him. Make it slow. Make it hurt. Make him scream. Make him fear,” it whispered in her mind.

Only, it couldn't kill him yet. She had a rare opportunity to study him. To watch his pattern of behavior and learn to copy it. It was the sort of opportunity she usually had to kill for. Yes, it could simply follow the human for a while. It would learn more about how they worked. It could kill him when the moment was right, and it had learned all it wanted.

“Alright, lead the way,” The Ghost Story said.

***

Stevey led the ghost story through the seaside town to a large building labeled Brightshore’s Grocery & More. The two of them had some light, awkward conversation during their short journey. The Ghost Story had done a good job of fooling the human. He even told it about their plan to leave traps meant to kill it. Now, they would certainly not work.

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Stevey made his way through the front doors of the building, and the ghost story followed. The inside of the grocery store was different from anything the ghost story had seen before. There were rows and rows of metal shelves. Each was covered in the food the human consumed, all wrapped in strange, unique ways. The ghost story was so enraptured by the strange building that it didn't notice when Stevey turned to stare at it.

“Do we have to play this game? I'm kinda tired of it. I know you're not Grace,” he said.

The Ghost Story story turned to look at him. I made it's best confused face.

“What are you talking about?” The Ghost Story asked.

Stevey sighed.

“You're not going to trick me. I know you're not Grace. You're the Wendigo. Grace decided to stay in this morning. She wouldn't have left. Also, Sunrise isn't my code,” Stevey said.

The Ghost Story stopped and stared at him. He had known it was not Grace the whole time. The human had laid a perfect trap to figure out her identity. But why had he still walked with a monster? The Ghost Story didn't understand. It was another nagging empty spot in its knowledge of humans. It drove the Ghost Story crazy. Maybe it wasn't too late to save this. There was still so much it wanted to know.

“But I am Grace, Stevey. I got bored in the cave and decided to go out,” it said.

“She wouldn't have left. We have a system, so we can avoid this. You're not going to fool me. Just drop the act.”

How bothersome. She'd let the human see through her disguise. She still had work to do if she wanted to understand how to fool these humans effectively.

“Oh well. I'll just have to become you this time,” the Ghost Story said with a sinister smile.

It held up its hand and transformed it into a set of long, sharp claws. Stevey held his hands out.

"Wait! Before you gut me, I have a question for you. This may be my one time to ask. Why do you do it?” Stevey asked.

“Why? I kill you because it is fun,” The Ghost Story answered.

“No. Not what I meant. Why do you talk to us first? We've been alone for 30 minutes. You could have killed me at any time. But you didn't. Why?” He asked.

The Ghost Story didn't know how to answer his question. By its nature, it was a killer. A being built only for death. Yet that wasn't entirely true. It enjoyed its conversations with the humans almost as much as it enjoyed killing them. It liked learning how they worked. It was fascinated by picking apart what made them tick and learning to replicate it.

“I don't know,” it answered honestly.

“You're clearly smart. You can speak well. You outmaneuver us at every turn, right? So I think you've got to be sad to be alone. Certainly, you're lonely if the only people you talk to are the people you plan to kill. The others don't see it that way. They hate you, but I pity you. I think maybe... I don't know. Maybe you could be better. So if you want to talk, let's talk. You can kill me after.”

The Ghost Story wanted to rip him to shreds while making it slow and painful. To show him just how much pity it felt towards him. But it didn't. The Ghost Story was too curious to do that. For the first time, it had the chance to learn everything it wanted to know. That was a chance it was going to seize.

“Why… Why don't you kill each other? I don't understand. Don't you hear the whispers too?” It asked.

“Whispers? No, I don't know what you're talking about. We don't kill each other because we're friends. We like each other. I mean, bloody hell. People don't usually kill each other, you know."

“You don't hear the whispers? You don't listen to them? How is that possible?”

“No, no whispers. Only loons hear whispering.” Stevey said.

“How do you live without the commands? How do you know what to do? I don't understand,” the Ghost Story asked.

“I just do what feels right to me. That's what all humans do. What are the whispers telling you right now?”

“They want me to kill you. To make it hurt. To make you suffer.”

“But you're not doing that. You're not doing what they say. So you can make a choice for yourself.”

The Ghost Story stopped. He was right. It was ignoring the whispers to talk with the human.

“Yeah, I can see that you understand. You don't have to do what it says. That whole idea is bollocks. There’s another voice you can listen to. Your own. So what do you want right now? What do you want to do?”

“Talk more.”

“Alright. Then let's talk. I'm Stevey Walker.”

He held out a hand to the Ghost Story. The Ghost Story eyed the hand skeptically. Finally, it took the hand cautiously and shook it awkwardly.

“How about you? Do you have a name?”

“No. I am just Wendigo. I have no name, but those fearful whispers human spread,” it answered.

“Okay, Wendigo, I can work with that. Although Wendigo is a bit of a mouthful, how about we shorten it to Wendy for convenience?” Stevey asked.

The Ghost Story thought about it for a few moments. It had never had a name before. The whispering had given it so much, but never that. Wendy, it liked the name. It was a name that could strike fear in anyone who heard it. One fitting of a monster. The Ghost Story smiled.

“Wendy… Call me that. I like it.”

“Alright then, Wendy, what else do you want to talk about?” Stevey asked.

Wendy thought about it for a good moment and finally settled on another thing it had been wondering about.

“What's it like beyond Paradise? Where do you come from?"

“Hard question… It’s a lot like here in some ways. There’s just more of it, I guess. There are cities four times the size of Paradise, filled with millions of people. Food like you’ve never imagined. Hundreds of forests and mountains... and so much more too. I think, most of all, the outside world has freedom. You can go anywhere and do anything, as long as you work hard enough... Well, for the most part. It's not like that here.”

Could such a wonderful place really exist? The ghost story wasn't sure it could believe the human. He had reason enough to lie. After all, he knew Wendy could kill him at any minute. It could very well be that he was just stalling for time by telling fantastical stories. But deep in Wendy’s gut, it felt like Stevey was telling the truth. It knew what it wanted to ask next.

“Do you think there's a place out there for a monster like me?” Wendy asked.

“I don't think you're a monster. Monsters don't think. They don't talk like you. I think you're just misunderstood. I think you're confused… and letting it out on us. You don't have to do it this way, you know. There's a better path.”

“What path is that?” It asked.

“Stop killing. Stay with us. You could talk all you wanted. You could be anyone you wanted. Try to understand us as much as you want. You wouldn't have to be alone. If you helped us, maybe we could escape and take you with us.”

“No… I couldn't do that, even to see those things. I like killing. I like torment. I like death,” Wendy answered.

There was a hunger in her voice that Stevey could clearly hear.

"Okay… How about this, Wendy?" Stevey said desperately, “Keep killing us if you have to. But don't kill me today, and I won't tell the others we met. Three days from now, it'll be my turn to make the run again. Think more about what you want to talk about, and we'll meet here again. I'll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Wendy nodded its head. It was the exact arrangement it wanted. All the information about the humans and their world it could possibly want.

“Okay.” It said, "I won't kill you today."

“Good. I see you in three days then, Wendy.”

With that, Stevey backed off, slowly leaving the grocery store. Wendy watched him go and did not try to chase him down. Her mind was too busy mulling over the talk. It kept playing his descriptions of the outside world over and over. The place sounded incredible to her. Hundreds of forests for her to explore. Millions of people she could become. Out there was true freedom. The Ghost Story knew that one day it wanted to see those places for itself. Wendy wanted to go beyond Paradise. It didn't even notice when, for the first time in as long as it had existed, the whispers faded from it's mind.