Subj: Grammar Story -- 35
Date: 8/24/00 12:55:47 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Beverly LaCroix

Jeremiah watched, restrained by the female ghost, as he brought the stake down, ready to end the existence of Barnabas Collins. It was a very strange surreal feeling to watch his physical body readying to commit such an act of violence, with a look of malovelent glee on his face. He wanted to stop it, but was powerless, and then again he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it. He looked at Maggie, trying to help her unholy lover, and then he glanced at the unconscious form of Willie Loomis, slave to Barnabas, and thought it was right. But what about Quentin Collins? Did he have worse in store for his family? Why was he here? He could hear the female ghost' tears at his thoughts, if there were such a thing as hearing tears. It was so different like this. His senses were enhanced, but physically he was dead. He could do nothing in the physical world as a spirit. He wasn't even a ghost. He was alive, and without a host body, how long could he live?

Then he heard it, just the smallest of sounds. It was the mere change of a physical expression, but it sounded like the slamming of a door to him. With a thought he glanced at himself bringing the hammer down, and thought he detected a weakening in his physical movement, but that wasn't what he heard. Then he saw it, and he felt terror surging through him again, to be replaced with what? The smile of victory was the last thing he saw, before his world went dark.