Ghost of the Past:


“Tobias! We have got go, Tobias… go now… Go!” 

“But..” 

“There’s nothing we can do for them now. Gods help me!”

“The spirits… So angry…” 

“NO! NOT THAT WAY!” 

“Need my help…” 

“Tobias, no choice…”

“THEIR COMING!” 

“Help me, help them…” 

“Forgive me son..”

“Wait, w-what are you… no No NO!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

His screams follow him from his nightmare to his bed with him half out of it fighting with the blanket that has tangled around him.  The image of the hay pile coming closer as he is thrown from the window. Waking every time before he hits the ground, still playing in his mind.  He is covered in sweat and his breathing is comes in ragged gasp. 

“Sir…” KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, he jumps at the sound and reaches for a sword that is not there before relaxing. 

“Sir, are you al’right sir?” The innkeeper knocks again.  “Alright, Alright,” Toby calls out the man, “I’m awake, you can stop your damn, infernal knocking.” 

“You alright Sir? You were screaming something awful. Scared half my customer away you did.”

“Yes, just a bad dream,” Toby says dismissively.

“Few more ‘dreams’ like that and I may be out of business. Scaring the other guest you are… Sir.” 

“Just get my breakfast ready. I won’t be in your hair much longer.”  

“…Very good sir.” He could hear the fat Opossum scurrying off, grumbling to himself. Toby was sure he caught the words “last time I let… not worth the coin no matter how good...” and so on. 

Toby untangled himself from the blanket, cursing, and got up to pure cool water into the basin, then looked into the mirror then startled seeing a person behind him. He whipped around, but the room was empty, so sighing he turned back around and saw the words “Help Me” written in the foggy glass. 

Sighing he wipes the message way, “No help until after breakfast.” Toby ignores the spirit as he washes and gets dressed, strapping on his sword, and picking up his little black book.  He then leaves the room, locking the door behind him, before bumping into the Innkeeper. “but… your breakfast sir…”  

“Bring it to the commons, I won’t be eating in my room today.” He walks briskly down the stairs, the innkeeper in his trial.  “And bring me a pint of dark ale,” he says as he sits at the far end of the long table, nearest to the hearth. At least the spirits tend to not bother him when near a fire. Not that they mind it, he was sure, but they preferred the dark and to cold. The Innkeeper sat down his tray and quickly walked off. 

Toby sighed thinking about the dream as he tore off a hunk of bread, making a trencher out of it for the stew the serving girl brought by.  He dipped his bacon in the stew and it crunched as he bit into it.  The dream was never a good sign. Only bad days followed the dream that made him relive the day he lost his home, his parents and his mentor. He would have been dead too if his mentor had not bodily thrown him out the window. He was frozen, he had trained to be a sword fighter since he could hold a sword, but nothing had prepared him to fight the horrors that a warlock with a grudge against his family let loose that day.  Only the small hay pile broke his fall enough that he lived, though to anyone looking down from the third story window would have seen a broken boy. 

It was from that day on that he was plagued by spirits, first it was his parents ghost, come to say goodbye before fading. Then Marcus, his mentor, but Marcus did not fade, but followed him for days just saying “return it” over and over again until he thought he might go mad.  It took him a month to reach his Mentor’s home and return the locket the man must had slipped into his pocket before shoving him out the window. But, as soon as he told Marcus’s wife how her husband had dyed saving him and handed her the locket, he heard Marcus’s ghost sigh and fade as the woman hugged him and cried. 

But that was history, he has learned and he has paid for it. The more he tracked the warlock trying to find him, the more horrors he has seen. But every year he returned to the Claudian’s for Marcus had a brother, Cyrus Claudian, who continued Toby’s training, preparing him to one day become an Eldritch Knight. 

“You need magic as well as a sword to beat a warlock,” Cyrus would say. So, flipping open his book of spells, he studied them as he ate. However, this was not just any book of spells, it was also a diary, a catalog for every horror Toby had seen and how to destroy them. Some of the ways were ways he learned on his own. Most were instructions from others in the trade of hunting and killing horrors, but very few would give up their trade secrets until he convinced them he was not after their business. 

The serving girl was back, a shy thing, “Will you be wanting anything else sir, any clothes cleaned or mended?”  “No girl, perhaps later… here wait a minute.” He then called her back after a cold whisper in his ear. “Let me look at you… how old are you?”  The young bunny came back as ordered, she blinked and blushed not sure why he wanted to know. “I’m 10 sir,” she finally said.  “So you are,” he clapped his hands together, “you have your father’s eyes child.”   She giggled shyly, “but my eyes are green and fathers are brown, sir,” she said and giggled again.  “Right you are.  Oh and here, I found this in my room.” He produced an old doll from his pocket and handed it to her. “Oh, sir can I?” She snatched the doll up and hugged it close. “Thank you sir, thank you.” 

“Think nothing of it” Then in a softer voice, “Your mother would want you to have it.”   “What was that sir,” she asked?    Coughing, “it was nothing child now listen. You take your doll right back to your room and put it some place safe, and one more thing. This silver if for the food…. And this silver is for you. Hide it, it’s yours.”  Then looking to be sure her adopted father was busy, “Now off with you, quick or you will be missed.” “Thank of sir you are too kind,” she hugged him and then ran off to her room. He did not watch her go, but looked on at the ghost of a pretty woman standing in the corner, her ghost eyes followed the girl. Then looking back at Toby said a wordless “thank you” before fading from this plane of existence.  “That just leave the one upstairs, wish they were all that easy,” he sighed.