A mortal being stood in the doorway, terrifying every ghost to their very souls. It was the sister of Flores and Dolores, the two flighty blonde haired women who accompanied Lord Rutherford and his entourage. She stood in her lacey black corset and jagged gothic dress surveying the room.

Her eyes widened as she saw hundreds of specters haunting Miss Charlotte's bedroom, bemoaning their unfinished business with the mortals.

A smirk curled on the young girl's face. She opened her mouth and raised her hand as if to greet the ghosts.

But suddenly, they all vanished.

Being merely specters, they could switch off their presence like a light switch. It was one of the few advantages of being a ghost. (It made hide and seek nearly impossible and often last for centuries.)

Charlotte groaned and contorted her face as she found herself squeezed beneath her rotting bed with a hundred other unhappy haunts.

Upon witnessing their disappearance, the girl's face dropped into a frown.

With a slightly deeper voice that sounded stained with a few whiffs from a pipe, she groaned. "And here I thought I finally found my people. As dead as I am inside."

With a loud ugh, she removed her flowing blonde hair from her head...and threw it on the ground.

Charlotte gasped before realizing it was a wig.

Beneath her wig, a short spikey hairdo that fit the dark dress ten times better than that sunny blonde wig.

Charlotte was beginning to feel ashamed that she had ran from someone who was just as good as removing parts of their body as she was. Still, the girl could easily spill their location to the wicked steely eyed behemoth. It was best to observe the girl and her next move.

"This must be the head mistress's room..." the girl said to herself. "And they were having such a great undead party too."

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Charlotte's eyes widened in shock. How did this girl know so much and about her detachable head too?

The interlope paced the floor, walking in what sounded like steel toed boots. The girl looked over the Charlotte's queen sized bed. She reached towards the sheets and a few mites scurried from beneath the covers.

"This bed..." The girl said softly. "Is infested with bed bugs and rot..."

Charlotte expected a gag of repulsion, but instead of the girl swooned in her husky voice. "Totally awesome!"

She walked over to the book shelf where all of Charlotte's most precious belongings were.

There were antiquated, yellow photographs of her family, servants and friends before their deaths. Photographs were the only thing reminding her warped and blurred mind of what she had looked like when she was peachy and flesh colored rather than white than a chalk mark in a snowstorm.

The girl's dark eyes sparkled as she saw the photograph. "The O'Scara's..." she said in awe. "This photo has to be a hundred years old."

She went to touch it and suddenly, Charlotte had the urge to move. Ghosts often had deep connections with artifacts from their previous lives and she didn't want some mortals greasy hands touching it. She went to go boo before Mortimer grabbed her by the spectral tail.

"Charlotte dear," he whispered. "That girl may warn the others."

"I know," Charlotte said, her cheeks puffing out in anger. "But I can't have that living breather touchin' my things."

The girl heard murmurs from beneath the bed. The ghosts immediately went quieter than their crypts. The young girl shook her head and moved to the next matter at hand. There was a dusty urn sitting on the shelf next to the photograph.

Made of ceramic and with a fancy curved lid, it seemed to house something of great worth. Knowing exactly what it was, Miss Charlotte's eyes nearly popped and rolled out of her head. It was her dear old Daddy O'Scara in that vase.

The girl reached for the lid with great curiosity, but Miss Charlotte was already on the offense. She vanished from beneath the bed before anyone could grab her tail.

When she reappeared, she was behind the spiky haired girl.

Passive aggressively, she tapped the girl on the shoulder and when she turned around. Charlotte let out the most hideous screech she could possibly give.

"BEEEGOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!!"

With an enormous open mouth filled with endless rows of rotten teeth, ectoplasmic spittal flew from Charlotte's mouth onto the girl.

When she finished roaring, the girl's face was covered in chilly green goo.

Charlotte expected the 'Flee or Faint' reaction, but instead, of she got a third reaction.

The girl grinned from ear to ear beneath the ectoplasmic goo. "That is the coolest, most gorheriffic thing I've ever seen in my life!"