I’m going to try to finish this tomorrow. Fortunately, I already did my short story for the month on Patreon, so there’s that.
The ghost screamed again, this time a howl of protest that made the air visibly shiver and smashed glass. But even as it screamed, it also receded, pulling itself into itself until it was a globe of black that imploded as I watched.
At least, I assumed it imploded. I did not see directly, as I was diving behind the sofa at the time. Judging from the sudden psychic wind that pulsed above my head, that was wise of me. The stink of curdled magic is wretchedly difficult to get out of one’s hair or clothes.
Curwin popped his head up at the same time I did (he had flipped the shoddy table in the even shoddier kitchen). “So,” he managed after a moment. “What was that, then?”