Phoenix Maplewood pieces of eight

sounds nice, she remarked of the ghost.
it did, though. to slip away from all that was physical, and all the pain and all the troubles of the world, so that you could exist as the very wind, to watch the world and go unseen yourself.
you wouldn't want t'be watched by little ghosty me? but the more she thought about it, the worse-off that idea seemed. indra had no clue what the man got up to when she wasn't around, and could only imagine the scenes she'd witness if he wasn't aware of her.
a small snort followed that thought, and she tussled with the skull again. it adjusted with a few swipes, loosing a front tooth, earning some scrapes by her claws.