Just a soul, whose intentions are good.

[There are no screeching sounds from the television or radio, but there are crashes and thuds coming over the feed along with a mischievous laugh. The broadcasts of late have woken up Seth's parasite, The Aurailia, and the creature is out to play.]

So much noise, ey cowboys? It's almost more than I can stand. [There is another loud crash and the sound of breaking glass, loud enough to be a window but none can be sure] I'm freezing my eyes dry! My eyes are dry as hell!

Where did all the poems go, they were shit enough to make my eyes water!

[There is music, faint but growing louder ever second as the up beat tempo echoes across the seventh floor.

Along with the music, there is a voice, calling out to the residents happily with all the charm of a known killer.]

Roll up! Roll up cowboys…!




[If anyone should venture to the seventh floor within the next 24 hours, you will find the possessed body of Seth turning cartwheels through the halls amongst the blood filled balloons of a ghost's own private circus. His eyes have healed, though there are still sections of wall attached to his hands and feet making his agility all the more unnatural. The music is deafening up there...]

So... [Seth stares into the camera, a calm grin on his face as he reclines slightly. He is smoking a cigarette, courtesy of his new buddy Matt, and his eyes are their usual painted black selves, framing his curiosity with apt darkness.] Magic stairs ey? Who wants to go find them with me?