To whom it may concern

Mary C. Carter sat back on her haunches, brushed a strand of damp hair from her sweaty forehead, and sighed.

The china figurines clustered on the small end-table in front of her were filmy and indistinct, their outlines concealed not just by the wisps of ghost-fog emanating from the spirits haunting them, but by the thick layer of dust that had built up in the weeks since she'd last been in this room.

She laid aside the feather duster and picked up a thick flannel washcloth instead, pulling a protective facemask over her mouth and nose as she did so.


Ongoing Verse: Andrea/Marisea

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