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A ghost took residence in the von Karma manor. Its wide, expansive halls gave way to the specter’s hollow hauntings. However, the phantom wasn’t malicious. In fact, those who felt his presence took peace in it. Though eerie, he almost held a calming air to him. Cold not like death but like a kind hand. Wisps golden like whispered sunlight that clung gently to the corners of mirrors and ends of empty hallways.
Despite his pleasant demeanor, his very existence still weighed heavily on the head of the household.
Manfred von Karma saw the being as a cruel twist of fate. A karma he would never admit, or even truly realize was deserved. A second shadow that clung to a pained shoulder. A memory he could never leave in the past as it was the past, himself, that haunted the prosecutor’s home office late in the night.
However it wasn’t night when Manfred felt the presence again during a chilly November morning. He had just woken up and was ready to pull himself out of bed when he felt it. The tell-tale feeling that he was not alone.
Of course that wasn’t all he felt. The cold chill of what was undeniably a specter did little for the dizzying heat that seemed to stem from his head. He also felt the very weight of his bones as he pulled himself up with more strain than was normally required. It was unusual for him. Every morning was the same. He has a perfect schedule that he always abided by. And yet, that morning it felt much harder to keep.
It didn’t matter. He was already two minutes and 45 seconds late for breakfast. He slid his legs to the side of the bed, ready to push off before he stopped. He felt the cold chill of air push at his shoulder. The pain flared up at the sudden temperature change, causing him to grab at it with a hiss.
He whipped his head around, looking for his assailant.
A gentle face and kind eyes met back at him. So golden and transparent that he could almost be convinced it was nothing more than a figment of his mind. Possibly a fever induced hallucination. But he knew better.
He glared at the spirit as he held his shoulder. “I don't have time for your antics,” he hissed out. He rarely acknowledged the being’s presence, but that morning he really didn’t feel like being harassed by the incorporeal entity.
He stood and pushed past the being to continue his morning. Its form dissipating near instantly.
As Manfred moved through his day he felt more and more lethargic and heavy. Thankfully there were very few other symptoms save for the fever. It was more manageable that way and easier to hide. Of course, it still made his daily work that much harder to tend to. He wasn’t at his usual peak. But von Karma was perfect and thus he would ignore such issues and continue further.
The most annoying part of it all was the spirit hardly left him alone for even a moment. The cool touch of the being was felt almost all day. On his forehead, his cheeks, his arms. It frustrated him.
He didn’t know what the entity was attempting or trying to convey. It was especially annoying that Manfred would almost say the feeling was nice. Not that he would offer those ideas any real thought. But the coolness did help with the fever that had kept him feeling aflame all day.
Still, thinking of the ghost’s pestering as helpful was ludicrous. Each time he felt it he would swat the specter away and continue his work.
By the time he finished his day his body felt like lead. He walked back into his room, ready to end his day, when he felt cold hands at his back. Of course, when he turned to see who was there he was alone.
“You have pestered me all day,” he finally hissed out. He whipped his head around his room, looking for any sign of the spirit. “What is it that you want from me? Are you attempting to mock me?” he growled.
Movement caught his eye.
He saw his comforter rising and being pushed gently to the side. Almost as if someone were opening it to get into bed. The sight made Manfred pause.
He gave a sigh and ran a hand down his face. “Gregory,” he mumbled out. The exhaustion that had settled in his bones all day now finding its way into his words. The tension in his body relaxed and he felt ready to drop. He’d been so on edge all day and fighting back whatever illness he had contracted in the cold November air, that now he had no energy whatsoever.
Clearly he was taking too long as he felt the hand once again attempting to take his own. Of course, there was hardly any movement. Nothing but a gentle whisper of what used to be. What could have been.
He gave another sigh before moving to change into his pajamas. He pulled himself into bed and practically sank into the fabrics.
As he was drifting off to sleep he felt the cool hands over his face again. When he opened his eyes, drowsy with sleep and seconds away from unconsciousness, he saw a warm, golden, smile looking at him from above.