The Writing on the Wall

The Writing on the Wall

By: ladygizarme
Beta: Houseki (welcome back to Naruto fandom, ‘seki! Stick around a bit, nya?)
Additional Props: to ren, for also helping with some brainstorming!
Summary: Shikamaru talks to ghosts. Sasuke runs from them. Both keep these secrets to themselves, until…
Pairing: Shikamaru x Naruto x Sasuke, in every variation thereof that I can fit into the plot (it will eventually be a threesome)
Warnings: AU/AR, Yaoi (M/M and M/M/M), Supernatural (with horror-ish elements), Occasional Violence/Blood/Gore, Language (I’m sure)

Chapter One:

“John Smith was a cop; a good cop. He was a decorated detective in the city’s 12th precinct’s elite Homicide unit. He was a devoted husband to his wife, and proud father to his son who would soon be turning six. He was a good man, and despite the travesties he saw daily in his line of work, he felt he had a good life; a charmed life. Little did he know how quickly that would change with the appearance of one, simple case file on his desk one seemingly ordinary Thursday.”

Shikamaru Nara put down his pencil with a sigh, picking up a bottle to his immediate right and pouring out an adequate amount.

“John Smith?” a voice nearby asked, a hint of incredulity in its tone.

“I can’t exactly use your real name, can I?” Shikamaru replied, rubbing his hands together to lather up the shampoo in his hand before scrubbing it through his wet, brown, chin-length hair.

“Well…no, I suppose not, but… John Smith?! Do I look like a John Smith?”

Shikamaru sighed again. “Troublesome,” he muttered as he tilted his head back under the stream of warm water in his shower. “I name every main character in my books ‘John Smith’ until I think of a better name. It makes it easier to move past the meaningless details and get the story down,” he informed the man standing outside his shower.

“Ah, I see.”

Shikamaru nodded absently, continuing to wash and rinse his body. Soon enough, he was turning off the water and reaching for his towel. After a cursory rubdown of his hair and body, he wrapped the towel around his waist and slid the shower door open all the way. The other man was still standing there when he stepped out. The steam from the shower and condensation that had settled on all available surfaces lent itself to the ethereal quality of the man’s looks, not only his skin and golden hair glowing, but his entire being. However, even in the thick steam, his blue eyes pierced through the fog, shining brightly as if alive.

Giving the blond man a look accompanied by a raised brow when he just continued to stand there, Shikamaru asked, “Do you mind?”

Smiling at the young man, the blond gave a brief shake of his head. “Not at all,” he said genially, before finally moving to vacate the room.

Shikamaru watched the man leave, his body, which normally looked almost-corporeal, seeming to turn to vapor as he slipped through the solid wood of the bathroom door.

Sighing yet again, Shikamaru found his comb and began getting ready for work. It was troublesome, but his book writing had yet to yield any actual monetary gain. He’d recently sent a few chapters of one of his completed works to several publishing companies, but hadn’t received any word back on it yet. He hoped to hear something (hopefully positive) soon, but in the meantime he had to pay the bills somehow. He was glad he’d been able to get a job in a bookstore, so he could at least feel he was still connected in some way with the world of books and literature.

After a cursory glance back at his shower, Shikamaru decided he would have to clean the China marker off later, after he’d had time to transfer the notes he’d made to something more suitable—like a notebook or his computer. For now, his only concern was whether or not he would have time to eat before going to work. Today’s storytelling session had lasted a little longer than planned, and he was cutting it close on time.

Oh well, he thought. It was a pain, but he really did get some of his better thinking done in the shower. He was glad he’d come up with the idea of keeping a wax pencil in the shower long ago. It gave him a way to jot down ideas, notes, and chunks of story that seemed to pop into his head so easily while surrounded by nothing but the water, steam, and the occasional ghost. Today he’d come up with the opening paragraph of what would surely become his next finished novel. Though the entire story was in his head thanks to his most recent other-worldly visitor, it still took some creativity on his part to figure out the best way to put the story into writing. Occasionally, he added his own plot twists to the story once he’d written it down, but he had a feeling he would be more faithful to this one. It involved an unsolved murder after all.

After getting dressed and grabbing a quick protein bar and an apple, Shikamaru left for work, all while contemplating his latest project. In truth, it would probably better serve the memory of his new ghost if his story could be published as a nonfiction crime novel. However, Shikamaru would never be able to list his source, nor explain how he got such detailed information when the police had never released it, nor even caught the murderer. After all, it wasn’t exactly like he could just say, “A ghost told me.”

For as long as he could remember, Shikamaru had been able to see ghosts and spirits. At first, he hadn’t realized that’s what they were, though he did sometimes get the feeling that there was something just slightly off about them. They looked just like normal people to him, though, so it wasn’t until he was nearing five years old that he finally found out what they really were. His father had come to have a talk with him about his “imaginary friends”, which his mother was becoming concerned with as he approached the age she felt he should have already grown out of such a thing. It was not the talk that opened his eyes, though. Instead, it was the fact that, as his father approached the place Shikamaru was sitting in his room, doing a puzzle with his newest friend, his father walked right through the little girl sitting across from him!

The young Shikamaru was understandably shaken, as was the little girl, who hadn’t realized she was dead. His father merely played it off as his son’s overactive imagination, however, and told his son he should explore different outlets for his creativity, other than making up pretend people to play with. He suggested Shikamaru play more with the neighborhood children, and if he really must imagine pretend people, could he just draw them instead so his mother didn’t worry about him talking to himself?

Finding it troublesome, even at that age, to deal with a worried, overprotective mother, Shikamaru took his father’s advice and played with more children in the neighborhood. He didn’t find a need to draw the ghosts he saw, as he’d just thought they were regular people before and he never had much inclination to draw those either. He did, however, take to making sure he touched his playmates before agreeing to talk or play with them. After the incident with his father and the ghost-girl, he figured this would be a surefire way to make sure they were real first, and for the most part it worked.

However, Shikamaru’s ghost friends would not leave him alone simply because Shikamaru suddenly decided he wanted them to. In fact, he found that it often made them even more determined to keep contact with him. Slightly surprised that ignoring someone that shouldn’t even be there was actually more work than acknowledging them in the first place, Shikamaru eventually returned to his former habit of playing and talking with his ghosts—though this time in a much more discreet manner.

In this way, it made him even more receptive to the spirits around him, and over time he started having more and more visitors that actually knew they were dead already. These ghosts often wanted to tell Shikamaru about their life and death. Why, he really had no idea. Maybe they just needed some kind of closure and he was the only person they could find to give it to them? Who knew, really, but after enough times of telling a ghost to bug off and that he didn’t care to hear their life story—with no results—once again Shikamaru found himself giving in and listening to the stories of the departed. Soon after this began, the boy found his head so full of lifetimes of stories that he had no idea what to do with, he decided the only way to get the load off his mind would be to write them down. That had been the first step into his life of writing.

Most of it was mediocre in his opinion. Just simple, normal lives that eventually ended either by natural causes or outside forces. Occasionally, though, there was murder and mystery involved; conspiracy and betrayal. Shikamaru found himself pulled into their story and trying to solve it before they got to the end, despite already knowing it ended with their death—whatever the details had been. He’d always had a great mind for puzzles and mysteries, and with his newest pastime of writing down the stories he was told, it added a new depth to those interests of his. It didn’t take long for Shikamaru’s mind to start providing him new ideas and twists on old stories he’d been told, and writing out his own versions of the stories. By the time he reached middle school, he was firmly entrenched in the love of writing—be it his own stories or those of the dead.

In his mind, it was only logical that he pursue writing as a career once he was done with school. It had to be the simplest way to make a living for a guy like him—smart but lazy. Unfortunately, it was a bit harder to break into the biz than simply having a good story and sending it to a publisher.

That was why Shikamaru now found himself stepping off the bus in front of the Borders bookstore where he worked. The parking lot was packed and, as he made his way inside, he saw the section roped off for the line to the registers was just as packed. It looked like it was going to be a busy night. Not for the first time since he’d started this job more than two years ago, Shikamaru was glad most of his ghosts left him in peace while he went to work. Since they knew they could have his undivided attention when he was home alone, most of them didn’t bother him while at his place of employment. He couldn’t even begin to explain how much simpler it made a busy night of work when he didn’t have to worry too much about discerning the living from the dead in the fast-paced world of face-to-face customer service.

Going to the bathroom first to wash the stickiness of the apple he’d eaten on the bus off his hands, Shikamaru then clocked in and took over one of the registers at the front.

*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*

Sasuke Uchiha squinted and scowled into the reflection slowly appearing in the mirror as the bathroom’s condensation evaporated. As more of the glass surface cleared, revealing more than just blurry shapes and colors, he quickly averted his eyes, panting heavily as his dark eyes squeezed shut and his heartbeat sped so much that it actually hurt within his chest.

‘It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…’ he repeated to himself in his mind; a mantra he dare not speak aloud, lest it anger the entity he knew most certainly was real, and standing behind him right by the shower he’d just left.

Much as he tried to regulate his breathing and slow his heart to a more comfortable pace, though, he couldn’t get that image out of his mind’s eye. That visage of that man. The man with dark, blood-matted hair; pasty-white, paper thin skin; blank, bulging, lifeless eyes that nevertheless seemed to pierce straight through to his soul; blood-crusted purple lips that hung slack; and equally blood-crusted shirt. Just standing there.

‘Just ignore it and it will leave, just ignore it, ignore it, ignore…’

Sasuke peeked an eye open, just barely but enough to catch the reflection still staring at him in the mirror, unmoving. Snapping his eyes shut again immediately, he resisted the urge to cover his head with his trembling hands, instead gripping the cold, damp edge of the sink, hoping the porcelain would be forgiving to his fingernails, as he currently had no control over the ferocity of his grip and really didn’t want to end up ripping his nails slightly from their nailbeds again—they’d finally healed from the last time.

He really didn’t have to peek now to know that thing was still there. He could feel it, though it still hadn’t moved. There was no ignoring that familiar, suffocating aura, though. If he concentrated (which he really didn’t want to, but sometimes did unconsciously while trying to will it away), he could even smell—practically taste—its blood, thick in the air and clawing at the back of his nose and throat. This thing had been torturing him with its presence in his home for the last month; not always there, but popping up at the most inconvenient of times (which, truthfully, was any and every time, in Sasuke Uchiha’s opinion).

It didn’t seem like the thing would be leaving any time soon, but Sasuke knew he couldn’t just continue standing here cowering. He had work, and his aunt would be here soon to pick him up. So, with eyes squinted and averted from the mirror, Sasuke opened that self-same mirror to reveal the cabinet within. Leaving the door open and refusing to look behind himself, Sasuke hurried through his after-shower routine and out of the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself, despite its uselessness. He really hoped it would deter that thing from following him, though.

After methodically clothing himself, Sasuke left his room. Then, with a cautious sweep of the main living area with his eyes, he deemed it safe to cross the open expanse between his short hallway and the kitchen. Once there, he fished out some leftovers from the previous night’s dinner, and sat at his bar counter to eat while waiting for the apartment buzzer to sound. Just as he was rinsing his dish before putting it in the dishwasher, the tell-tale buzz came and he went to push the button and let her know he’d be right down. Grabbing his jacket and black messenger bag, Sasuke popped a piece of gum in his mouth before leaving his apartment, locking it after himself, and taking the stairs down five flights to the ground floor.

His aunt was waiting for him just outside the entrance to his building, smiling her usual welcoming smile. It eased his mind of some of the fear that had been there just moments before, and he took a calming breath to let that ease spread.

“Ready to go, dearie?” his aunt asked.

He nodded, following her to her car and buckling in before closing his eyes for the ride to work. He hated cars, and it had nothing to do with car sickness and everything to do with what he might see on the road, or what might follow him into the car where he would be trapped for the duration of the drive. It was the reason Sasuke did not drive himself. One of the few things his long-time therapist had suggested that Sasuke actually agreed with.

He’d driven all of one time in his life, and that had been back when he was fifteen and had just passed the written test for his driving permit. His mother let him drive the car home, but on the way they’d had to cross a train track that was well-known for its history of bad accidents. Sasuke had nearly caused his own accident when he’d seen the ghosts of a carful of previous victims, and shouted in horrified shock as he swerved to avoid a girl that was bloody and limping on twisted limbs. He would have run head-on into an approaching truck if it hadn’t been for his mother’s quick reflexes. She’d grabbed the wheel and swerved the car back into their own lane, causing Sasuke to shout again, squeeze his eyes shut, and shudder horribly as the girl’s body passed through the car right where he was seated in the driver’s seat. After screeching at her son to pull over and put it in park, Mikoto Uchiha had taken the driver’s seat from Sasuke and driven them the rest of the way.

Sasuke had never driven again.

Now was not the time to think about that, though. Sasuke didn’t want to drive. With the kinds of things he saw all the time, and the way he couldn’t help reacting to them, he would just be an accident—no—a catastrophe waiting to happen. He was perfectly happy being driven around by people that couldn’t see the horrors surrounding them. At least it got him to work faster than walking.

Speaking of work, they were pulling up to there now. Sasuke noticed the busy parking lot in front of Borders and suppressed a groan. Getting inside and behind the counter of the café without touching anybody was going to be tricky today.

Bidding his aunt goodbye with gratitude, Sasuke exited the car and made his way inside. He managed to complete the task with minimal physical contact, despite the crowds, and nodded to his friend Shikamaru at the front register before crossing over to the coffee shop. Once behind the counter, he donned his apron and washed his hands in the back before coming back out to the front counter to start his shift.

*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*


Naruto Uzumaki followed his new boss’s assistant through the hallways of his new office building. She was taking him to his brand new, very own office. One he would have all to himself and not have to share with a perverted recluse of a writer that was constantly either heckling him jovially or making lewd comments when he wasn’t too consumed with the writing of his cheesy porn-disguised-as-romance novels.

He barely covered a gleeful snicker as he thought of that old man and how shocked he’d been when Naruto had announced that he’d finally gotten a real editor’s position. With a reputable publishing company, no less! Yessiree, he was moving up! No longer would he be forced to read his godfather’s idea of brilliant love stories; he would soon be entrenched in the exciting world of suspense fiction! He couldn’t wait.

“Here we are, Mr. Uzumaki,” the dark haired woman said with a gesture of her hand.

Naruto smiled at her, and opened the door to his new office. It was simple; just a desk with a computer, a standard-sized window with blinds pulled shut, a tall bookshelf, and a filing cabinet. To Naruto Uzumaki, however, it looked like heaven. His grin grew wider.

“Thank you very much!” he said to the woman who followed him inside as he sat in his plush new leather desk chair.

“I believe you’ve probably already been run to the ground on reading and memorizing policies and standards for accepting submitted novels, but company hiring policy demands you jump through a few more hoops as far as personal judgment versus company discretion go. These will be conducted on your computer through a series of tutorials. The program disc is there on your desk, if you would please complete it as soon as possible, then we will be able to get you started on your real job around here.”

Naruto nodded at her, a bit lost but understanding at least that he needed to pop that disc in and follow its instructions as soon as possible. He was really eager to actually get his hands on some good, new stories. He would get to read them before anyone else!

At his nod, the woman continued. “You’re just one of several editors on this floor. Senior editors have their own personal assistants, however those with less seniority, like you, have to share an office assistant with your neighbors. There is an intercom button on your phone to speak to her directly, but remember that she works for the whole floor, not just you. Her name is Temari Sabaku. She’s on her break right now, or I would introduce you properly. If you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my duties, so I’ll leave you to get settled in on your own.”

“Okay, thank you, Miss…” Naruto nearly cursed at having already forgotten her name, but luckily refrained. Now was not the time to start making an even worse impression of his manners.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem offended, but smiled graciously at him. “Just call me Shizune. No need to be formal, despite the impressions all the company’s policies may leave on you. Ms. Senju runs a tight ship, but it’s all for the good of both the company and its employees,” she assured him.

Drinking in this information, Naruto merely nodded wordlessly at her. He’d already gotten that feeling during his interviews with Ms. Tsunade Senju, but it was nice to have it confirmed by someone else nonetheless.

A musical trill sounded through the quiet of the office, and Shizune reached for the phone in her pocket, reading what was on the screen before returning her attention to Naruto. “Well, that’s the boss. I’ll leave you to it, then.” With that, she took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

Left to his own devices, Naruto turned the disc case over in his hands a couple times before finally turning on his computer and popping it in. Whatever was ahead of him, he would take it head on, even if it was just more repetition from things he’d already heard during his initial inductive meeting.

A couple hours later, Naruto had finally completed the tutorial disc and, his head feeling decidedly full, he decided to take a coffee break. He didn’t really like coffee, but he needed a break nonetheless. And who knew, maybe he’d find a stash of ramen packets in the break room! Humming happily to himself, Naruto found his way there and started exploring the cupboards.

He was in luck! For, though he found no ramen, the box of hot cocoa he’d discovered was a pretty good find. Not as good as ramen, mind you, but still pretty good. Much better than coffee, if he did say so himself. After heating up some water, he was just mixing it with the cocoa in a mug when he got that familiar prickly sensation on the back of his neck. Turning to face the door to the room, he was met seconds later with the sight of it opening and a busty blonde woman entering the room.

“Oh, hey,” the woman with four spiky pigtails greeted casually. “You’re the new editor, aren’t you? Welcome to Loose Leaf Publishing, I’m the Floor Assistant, Temari.”

Naruto grinned, stepping forward and reaching out to shake her hand. “Hi, Temari! I’m Naruto!”

Temari raised a brow at his enthusiastic greeting. She didn’t get that too often from the newbies. Usually they were a bit daunted to suddenly be working for a well-known publishing company, and the menial, unwanted tasks that were expected to be dumped on them by the senior editors was also a great mood-dampener. This guy seemed to have spunk, though, and she liked that. Of course, he could just be a cheerful idiot, but if Ms. Senju thought he was worth hiring, then Temari would give him the benefit of the doubt for now. She shook his hand.

As she grasped his hand, Naruto felt the sensation he’d previously been experiencing increase exponentially. The overwhelming perception that this woman was strong, sincere, a bit mischievous, and especially compassionate to those close to her, flowed through him as if he were feeling it in his very soul. That last one, the compassion, felt like it also had some sadness to it. Something concerning her family. Before Naruto could puzzle anymore about it, though, the handshake ended and she was talking again.

“So, I take it you got through the initiation process relatively unscathed. Ready to finally get down to business?”

Nodding emphatically, Naruto enthused, “Yeah!”

She smirked. “Okay then, blondie, finish your little cup of cocoa there and I’ll meet you in your office in five.”

Before she left the room, Temari added, “Oh, and by the way… you might not want to steal anymore of Neji‘s cocoa without asking. He can get pretty nasty if he’s deprived of his daily dose. Sorta like Ms. Senju and the flask she has hidden in her bottom drawer.”

This time it was Naruto’s turn for his brows to climb his forehead. He listened to Temari’s laugh follow her out of the room, and quickly gulped down his cocoa before disposing of all traces, even washing out the cup and returning it to the cupboard before returning to his office.

Just as promised, Temari was in his office five minutes later, a stack of two boxes in her arms. She set them on the floor next to Naruto’s desk, then left the room only to return minutes later with two more.

“That should be enough to get you started,” she told him. “In case you haven’t been informed yet how things work around here, these are the rejects from the senior editors. They mostly only accept manuscripts from authors we already handle, or well-known agents. The rest, such as first-time writers and unsolicited manuscripts go into their reject pile which, by the way, is a task assigned to their assistant usually. Their rejects come to us, and it’s your job to go through each and every one before lining the bird cages with it.”

Again, Naruto found his eyebrow approaching his hairline at her frank way of speaking. If possible, she was even more blunt than him.

Temari continued. “Now, you may be thinking, ‘Why even bother? Don’t most publishing companies just automatically reject unsolicited manuscripts?’ Well, that is true. However, after events in recent years with publishing companies rejecting new authors that turned out to be literal cash cows once they were picked up, and due to Ms. Senju’s gambling nature, Loose Leaf Publishing has a little more of an open-door policy. No manuscript will be turned away without first being read through. That doesn’t mean all will be accepted, of course, because the truth of the matter is that most unsolicited manuscripts are still utter crap. Nevertheless, they all get a chance, so I hope you’re a fast reader. As you can see, we’re a bit backed up already, and there’s more where this came from,” she said, indicating the boxes she brought to his office.

“No problem,” Naruto assured her. “I’ve been training for this since I was fourteen.”

It seemed the two sets of blond eyebrows in the room were taking turns lifting on their owners’ face, and it was Temari’s turn again. “Really.”

It was said as a statement, though she obviously meant it as a question.

“Yep. Been forced to read my godfather’s stuff since I was a teenager. Trust me, anything’s better than Jiraiya’s stories.”

“You’re Jiraiya Gama’s editor?!”

Naruto gave her a look, “Don’t tell me you actually read his books…”

She laughed and waved away his wary suspicions. “No way! But my girlfriend is a huge fan of Make Out Violence, with Make Out Tactics a close second. She’ll freak when I tell her I’m working with Jiraiya Gama’s personal editor!”

“Err…” Naruto really didn’t know what to say to that. It was nice to suddenly be spoken about as if he were some sort of celebrity, but editing those lousy romance novels was not what he wanted to be famous for.

“Well, anyway,” Temari broke into his embarrassed train of thought. “I’d better let you get to work! Buzz me if you need anything!”

Deciding he had to start somewhere, so he might as well start at the top, Naruto lifted the lid of the box closest to him. Two, neat stacks of large envelopes containing printed manuscripts greeted him. Shrugging to himself, Naruto picked up the first manuscript and got comfortable in his chair.

The basic idea of the process had already been explained to Naruto by Ms. Senju, for though he’d been “in the business” for several years now, he’d only ever worked for his godfather, who had taken care of everything else with his agent once Naruto’s overview was done. Here at Loose Leaf, it was his job to sort through the “rejects” and weed out ones he thought were actually worth bothering with. After he turned a manuscript in to his superiors for consideration, they would make their own judgment, and in turn suggest it to Ms. Senju or one of her VPs. If that story or author was officially picked up, the author would be assigned an editor to work personally with them. Most likely, that would be one of the senior editors, so Naruto didn’t have any delusions of meeting any up-and-coming literary celebrities himself… yet. Still, he was excited to be part of the process, and knew someday he would be one of those prestigious senior editors.

Once settled in his chair, Naruto opened the envelope and pulled out the thick stack of paper. Reading the cover letter, the story summary sounded interesting already. Loose Leaf Publishing dealt primarily with mysteries, suspense, and crime thrillers. A nice change of pace from Jiraiya’s preferred genre. This one was meant to be a crime thriller, and Naruto readily turned to the first page, eager to get started.

Yet, as he tried to concentrate on the text before him, Naruto found himself distracted, reading the same sentence over and over without retaining any of it. He hadn’t even made it past the first page when he set it down on his desk, rubbing his suddenly tired eyes and then his temples. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he concentrate? It was like something was nagging at him, telling him not to just settle for the first story he grabbed. While reading, his gaze had kept traveling back to the stack of boxes, and Naruto now decided there must be a reason for it.

His intuition had never steered him wrong before so, getting up, Naruto went back to the boxes and started picking up each envelope one by one. Nothing seemed to jump out at him immediately, so he started opening the envelopes, hoping that might help. He still felt it, that vague pulling sensation, as if something were trying to steer him towards itself, yet he made it through the entire first box without that sensation growing at all. Okay. He moved on to the next box, and then the next. Finally he was at the last box, and opened it up. Suddenly, that feeling that had previously been constant grew intense; fierce; overwhelming. Naruto watched his hands move as if he were a puppet on a string, seemingly moving to a will not his own, desperately grabbing at the envelopes and pulling them out in large handfuls, his hands grasping as many as the length of his fingers would allow and setting them aside. When he got to the very bottom, there were two envelopes left. His hands picked up the one on the left, and suddenly a feeling of immense calm filled him. This was what he needed; what he’d been looking for. There was no doubt about it.

He opened it up and looked at the cover letter. The author was someone named Shikamaru Nara. He’d never heard of him before, but Naruto supposed that was to be expected. His intuition didn’t always seem to make sense at first, but Naruto couldn’t help but believe in himself—strange, trance-like actions or no.

Skimming through the summary and introduction quickly, Naruto eagerly turned to the first page and began reading ravenously.

*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*
A/N: I know, I know, another story when I have sooooooo many I need to work on… I couldn’t help it, though! I’ve been wanting to write a suspense/horror-ish supernatural fic for like a month now (vashta's challenge influenced that a bit), and finally got an idea for one (thanks to some random comments that led to brainstorming with Houseki this past weekend…). Chapter two is already half-done, so let me know what you think and if I should continue with this or not!

So rate and review! Thanks for reading!

Also, if anyone wants e-mailed when I update this story, tell me so in a review and leave your e-mail addy.

&hearts

~ lg