📻“I doubt the bank will be thrilled finding a dead body in the morning. Whatever, dead land, dead sales!”📻

📻“If they can find it stud~❤️”📻

📻“If anybody even cares to look, darlin’. Thanks for calling in Mildred with that lovely story. Do keep in touch, do keep in touch.”📻

📻“I bet our censors and the bozo fact-checkers will have a field day grasping at straws with this one. And that’s an uncensored and certified-”📻

📻*T-T-T-TRUTH BOMB!*📻 The mock air raid hits, and Luther catapults himself awake.

“Whooooooaaaaaa!” His right foot is caught on top of the oil lamp, and he’s barely keeping balance.

A lunge back, a lunge forward, a lunge back, and a-

*CRAAASH* -Luther accidentally punted the lamp through the radio antenna and directly into the portrait above the fireplace.

He picks up the snapped antenna and a shard of glass off the floor, then looks up. Squinting hard. He flips on his flashlight. It doesn’t look like there’s a single scratch or ding on the face! Must be a high-quality canvas for a high-maintenance bitch-

*crack* -Luther’s heel breaks more glass, and he winces.

He thinks that as long as the painting is intact, he only needs to sweep up for Ollie, but then it hits him again. ‘Right…sweep up for who?’ Luther huffs.

But, not even Luther would wish broken glass on his worst enemy. Although it may not be entirely beneath him to piss on the carpet and blame it on a cat that snuck its way in. Smells like stale urine up in here anyway. Ollie would be none the wiser. But seriously, someone could cut their foot on this mess, even precious Alma-

Luther shrugs in embarrassment. There’s that word again, precious. To him, it’s synonymous with Alma, but he doubts it's synonymous with him. The way he sees it, though, tonight is not a night for synonyms. It’s a night for action!

His first action being…‘Wonder if there’s a dustpan in the kitchen?’

Luther heads out through the right. The kitchen is in the same place as the cellar, after all. Luther steps into the kitchen with a boastful nod. Ah yes, the kitchen.

Luther looks left and right. Taxidermy squirrels, a bar, and paintings of lush green, green countrysides against rocky shores…

‘...’

…this isn’t the kitchen, but it should be…

Luther sees the door on the other side and smacks his head. Of course! He exited the kitchen through a door. He vividly remembers that thanks to his excellent memory, well, excellent on a good day memory. Even by old man brain standards, it's peculiar that Luther failed to notice at the time there was a lounge nearly double the size of the living room. But then again, he recalls having his light off during the first pass through here, possibly? Did he really…

‘Well, I’ll be!’ Luther's attention is grabbed by a phonograph in the corner. He hasn’t seen one of these in ages!

Luther walks over to it. Maybe he can play some tunes. Better than that than to dwell on memories of the past several hours. Speaking of which, how long has he been here anyway? No wristwatch. Luther pawned that off to wow Alma with something special later.

He glosses over the walls with his flashlight. There we are! He finds a cuckoo clock with the bird stuck out, lopsided, and covered in webs.

‘Great…’ Luther rolls his eyes.

Speaking of webs, Luther turns back to the phonograph. A strand of web connects the spindle to the turntable with a dusty record. He flicks it. It hums like a bass.

Luther continues flicking it and listening to the hums and strums. Who needs a record when you can listen to the soothing basslines of Luther Knotts? He could be a bassist. If only Ollie wasn’t a better bassist than him…

That last thought makes him seethe, and Luther plucks the strand in half. *TWING*

Luther turns away and folds his arms. Not noticing the spindle slapping the record, which begins to turn.

The phonograph plays a soothing and serene…🎺*DWUM DUH DWUM DO A DU DWUM DUBH DUN DUN DA DWUN DA DA DAD DUT DUT DUTTA DA DWUM DUH*🎺

The scratchy and as serene as a dying elephant trying to out trumpet an out-of-tune and out-of-practice participation trophy earning 2nd Grade children’s marching band melody startles Luther! He whirlwinds around, karate chopping the air. That’s one blunt edge he has over Ollie, he may not be a bassist, but Luther is a bonafide (mail order) black belt in some kind of martial “arts”.

A few chops in, Luther finally realizes the sound is coming from the phonograph! He desperately tries to shut it off. It’s definitely been a while, all these doohickeys on the damn thing are entirely foreign to him, but he tries anyway.

‘SHUT IT OFF! SHUT IT OFF!’ Luther feels as if his entire mind is hollowing out and ringing solely with the lone, loud whines of the garbled beats. 

It’s so LOUD! UGH!

…

Louder than all the clocks ringing wildly. Wind howling through windows. Floorboards creaking. Doors open upstairs with mist pouring out that envelopes and dresses the rooms above before steadily creeping downstairs in an arc. Luther hears none of it, only that grating melody from the phonograph…

…mist zips to the corners of the living room…mist zips to the corners of the dining room…mist rockets towards the lounge…

…

Luther has no choice but to karate chop the contraption in half. He bows, readies a stance, measures the distance of his arm to the record, and swings down-

“OOOOOOOUUUUUUUCCCCH!” -the record still spins. If anything almost broke, it would’ve been Luther’s wrist.

The wooden cuckoo bird springs to mechanical life, going in and out, in and out. The shakey repetitive motion crunches, readies for launch and propels out the clock door. Hitting Luther between the eyes!

Luther rubs his forehead. An unseen wad of mist massages his back.

*CLUMP* The music stops!

“Thank you so much! I couldn’t figure out how to to-” Luther sees a large clump of earthworm-filled mud right on the record. “…..t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tt—t-t-t-t-tt—t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tt—tt-t—tt-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-TURN THE-”

Luther feels something heavy and wet hit his jacket sleeve. Then something alive slumps on top of his head. The weight pushes him down a little. As he raises his head and flashlight, Luther dares not turn around. For the love of God and all that is holy, he MUST NOT turn around…

The foul-smelling breath of a rotting zombie waits behind Luther as the worms wiggle in his hair! The creature is caked in as much mud as the phonograph, and worms slither around its eye sockets.

*GRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU* It breathes heavily enough that the worm pile on Luther’s hair goes flying off!

More mud and worms replace what was lost and drip down Luther’s forehead. He goes cross-eyed as he watches it.

Luther rattles from his toes up to his hair in response to a powerful primal instinct. ‘GET-THE-FUCK-OUT…NOW!’ The rattling intensifies to the point that the earthly belongings he didn’t ask for from the zombie shake off his entire self.

Luther backs up as the zombie stays in place. ‘…slowly back away….slowly back away…slowly turn away, don’t look at it and-’

*HOOOOOOONK* -Luther bumps into something surprisingly firm, healthy, nearly transparent, and…

“Boo~❤️” A ghost looks down upon Luther, stuck in her ethereal cleavage that not even the cold hand of death can take away…

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Luther bolts right through her in a flash!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WAIT! COME BACK!” The lady ghost begins to weep and chases after him!

Luther escapes the lounge and makes it to the mansion’s front door! He opens it and leaves! He’s almost out! Come on, keep running faster! Yes!

Luther escapes the lounge and makes it to the mansion’s front door! He opens it and leaves! He’s almost out! Come on, keep running faster! Yes!

Luther…escapes…the…lounge…and…

‘Wait…’ Luther slows down his running speed into a light jog inside the living room.

With each step out that front door, he somehow returns to the lounge each and every time…

Luther does a defeated, hopeless walk to the front door again. But as he reaches for the doorknob, he decides “screw it” and rests his hand, followed by his face on the door.

“Finally caught up to ya!” The ghost wheezes.

Luther shrugs. “Well yeah, of course, you’ll catch up, silly! I can’t seem to-” Then when he remembers that he is talking to a ghost, Luther’s eyes bulge, and he scoots comfortably against the door.

Luther shines the flashlight on her face. It shines right through her, not even casting a shadow. She, of course, notices this too and giggles. The way she laughs and speaks, it sounds like a faint echo, like she’s talking through a cup or a radio.

Luther gulps. “You? Y-y-you? Really? Really a-a-a-a-? You! r-r-really g-g-g-g—g-g—g-g-g-g—g-g-g”

The ghost winks. “G~G~G~G~GORGEOUS~? Why yes…”

“I~❤️ Am~❤️” She glides her hands around her ghostly curves…

“NO! ARE YOU A GOD DAMN GHOST!?!?!?!?” Luther clarifies.

She makes a pouty face. “Rude…I prefer the term manifestation. AND don’t raise your voice with a ❤️~LADY MANIFESTATION~❤️”

“But not just any ❤️~lady manifestation~!”

“A ❤️~lady manifestation~❤️ with….”

[NSFW content warning: Please open link to view illustration] https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/864949614338506773/1013131125436194976/Nipple.jpg?width=783&height=1111 [NSFW content warning: Please open link to view illustration]

“❤️~with nipples~❤️” She puts on the smuggest prideful grin she can!

Luther’s eyes bulge out again. He’s speechless and feels second-hand shame…

“...are you going to possess me?” Luther starts to slide down.

“Nah~🎵” The ghost smiles.

“...eat me?” Luther drops his ass to the floor.

“Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwww! NO WAY!” She retches.

Then the ghost peeks around the corner to point out, “But HE wants to~🎵”

*GRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU* The muddy zombie bellows, and Luther shoots back up, standing perfectly firm.

*CLUMP* *CLUMP* The zombie is stumbling in their direction as its boney ankles snap in and out of place! Albeit…painfully slowly…

The lady ghost puts her arm around Luther’s shoulder. “He’s not fast, but if you let him get too close, he will pull ya limb from limb!”

Luther quivers.

Her face becomes menacing as she pulls him close. “BLOOD GUSHING AS YOU FEEL EVERY SINEW RIP FROM YOUR SOCKETS LIKE A THANKSGIVING TURKEY!”

“PRAYING THAT YOUR ORIFICES DON’T TURN INTO AN ORGY AS YOUR LEFTOVER INTESTINES PAINT THE WALLS!”

“But again~🎵 Only if he catches you~!” She smiles. “And~ You have someone sweet to help you~”

“Tee~❤️ Hee~❤️” She flutters her eyelashes.

Luther is still quivering, frozen, not even making eye contact with her.

She sighs. “So…do you have ’em yet?”

Luther snaps out of it. “Have wha-”

*ah* He feels his left hand stinging again. It feels warm…

Luther pulls off the handkerchief. Blood and puss bubble out of the wound…

Nudged between his wound is the emblem of a wolf and poker suits.

*ah* Luther tries pulling it out. “A poker card?”

The ghost taps his shoulder and makes a peace sign. “Two more, hun~🎵”

As requested, Luther is able to remove two more cards. There’s still more even after that. This wound houses an entire deck of cards!

The ghost glances at the still sluggish mud for brains and mud eating for breakfast zombie and back to Luther. “Okay~🎵 I’ll give you a quicker than THAT GUY rundown! First, have you played Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories?”

Luther shakes his head no.

“Neither have I, hun~🎵 But it’s in the script!” She bumps him with her elbow.

Luther isn’t laughing. He disapproves of cheap contextless humor masquerading as rich, relevant comedic commentary. Or at least he assumes that sort of trash would be her standup style. Luther would know. He’s the funniest guy in town (for one reason or the other).

“That’s what we call a joke, hun~🎵” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah…jokes.” Luther judges her still exposed nipples and pouts to the side.

“It doesn’t have to be funny, but you’re NO FUN, hun~🎵” She pokes back in her ethereal nipples from the great beyond. “Okay~🎵 The cards chosen determines what ya can do, easy enough~?”

“Huh? Yeah! Sounds like a card game I play called Game King, err I mean used to play as a kid!” Luther lets out a weak chuckle.

“He~🎵 He~🎵 Sounds like Yu-Gi-Ohnevermind, forget it!” She turns her back to Luther’s comedy-judging face

*GRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU* The zombie is only a few feet away!

The ghost thumbs through Luther’s cards. “Ok~🎵 What is important is that you got a 5, a 2, and an oh~!” She smooches the last card…

“And a Queen~❤️” The ghost leaves a glowing blue kiss mark on it. “Any Queen~❤️ cards are guaranteed to involve me~❤️”

Luther nods.

“Okay~🎵 Release the cards!” She dramatically raises her arm forward!

Luther shrugs and gently releases the cards. They suddenly pulse with a bright blue hue and spiral rapidly around his wrist.

The ghost begins to charge with an even brighter and brilliant blue! “Surefire Shot~🎵” She points a finger gun at the slinking ahead zombie.

Her fingertip flickers with a blue spark. “GHASTLY GUN~🎵” She makes a sadistic grin and-

*POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW* -unloads her aptly named attack. The blue spark becomes a blue wave!

Before it fully connects with the zombie, it proudly lets off one last, *GRUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-*

-The big blustering blue shot shaves off the pre-shredded past its prime skeleton.

Sparks fly, Luther’s remaining grip on reality flies, and most importantly, worms fly!

The upper torso deficient cretin creeps a few more steps forward, then collapses. Now more mud than bones! A blue smoke trail rises from the mess. This former tombstone trailblazer is toast!

Luther leans forward as he watches the worms sizzle to a crisp. He holds his nose shut. It smells just as bad as the zombie’s breath…

The ❤️~Lady Manifestation~❤️ brings her lips close to her firing finger and blows on it.

She turns around and extends her hand out to Luther. “I’m Lyra~🎵 Nice to meet ya, hun~🎵”

-CHAPTER END-

🎵Man! I feel like a BOOman!🎵

-Nightmare’s overture-