Ghost Codes 009
Grey light. Fading moon. Dixie on slow walkabout, Break at her side. Other collectors were seen, working the streets. Let them be.
Break started to tremble. His skin was picking up traces, buzzing with sparks: evidence of spirit activity, serious measure.
He led Dixie to Hive 7, the worst of the blocks. Off limits. Unsafe. Stories of demon songs haunting the rooms. A passageway beckoned.
Dixie moved closer, alone. Into darkness. Silence. And then the crackle of melody, sparklenotes fluttering in minor key colours.
Listen now: held by rusty guitar strings, a woman’s voice. Old, pitched low, a black moan. Murder ballad style. Dixie shivered.
She set the ghost trap and waited. The spirit flickered, sighed in darkness. Icy, blue, fevered: something touched at Dixie’s face.