as a kid, i always had what my parents called ‘imaginary friends’ the thing is, they weren’t imaginary. i swore this to them for years, they sent me to a psychiatrist who shoved seroquel and lorazepam down my throat. this did nothing but sedate and scare me enough to no longer speak of it. i knew that i had a gift and decided to open a funeral home. this way i could give them proper respect and burials, and give their families reassurance that they needed. that was 39 years ago, rumors in purgatory started to spread though. eventually i had a line of every victim of every brutal cold case.
it started with a young woman named tamara. she came to me in the middle of the night, and told me the gruesome details. her father had discovered her, hung in a tree, with no clothes, and a lot of exterior damage in their front yard. at least that was his story. she came to me, asking for help. she told me what he did to her. vile things i don’t care to repeat. i try not to think of happened to these souls, for that is not who they are. most of them still carry their personalities. some have been stuck in purgatory for so long, that all they held was vengeance and sorrow. they slowly lost themselves over time, those are the old old souls.
you see, in purgatory, you don’t just stare into limbo. you’re trapped to your family, stuck lingering around them. watching their lives go on, generation through generation, except on new moons. something about the lack of light, allows them to be free of their tether. they don’t know why, many whisper of conspiracies. i’m unsure of how these souls found me but they did.
i began only take the ones with their killers still alive, and gave advice on how to move on to those who had passed, and were trapped here with them. it’s almost like being a therapist, but for lost souls.
Hot_Store_3374 t1_ityy9ss wrote
Reply to [WP] You are a funeral director with a knack for solving grisly mutders. The cops are wondering how you are better at their job than they are. The truth is that you can see ghosts, and they just kind of tell you everything. by AV8ORboi
(on mobile phone so excuse poor formatting)
as a kid, i always had what my parents called ‘imaginary friends’ the thing is, they weren’t imaginary. i swore this to them for years, they sent me to a psychiatrist who shoved seroquel and lorazepam down my throat. this did nothing but sedate and scare me enough to no longer speak of it. i knew that i had a gift and decided to open a funeral home. this way i could give them proper respect and burials, and give their families reassurance that they needed. that was 39 years ago, rumors in purgatory started to spread though. eventually i had a line of every victim of every brutal cold case.
it started with a young woman named tamara. she came to me in the middle of the night, and told me the gruesome details. her father had discovered her, hung in a tree, with no clothes, and a lot of exterior damage in their front yard. at least that was his story. she came to me, asking for help. she told me what he did to her. vile things i don’t care to repeat. i try not to think of happened to these souls, for that is not who they are. most of them still carry their personalities. some have been stuck in purgatory for so long, that all they held was vengeance and sorrow. they slowly lost themselves over time, those are the old old souls.
you see, in purgatory, you don’t just stare into limbo. you’re trapped to your family, stuck lingering around them. watching their lives go on, generation through generation, except on new moons. something about the lack of light, allows them to be free of their tether. they don’t know why, many whisper of conspiracies. i’m unsure of how these souls found me but they did.
i began only take the ones with their killers still alive, and gave advice on how to move on to those who had passed, and were trapped here with them. it’s almost like being a therapist, but for lost souls.