Chronicles of Writing 'Spice'

Chronicles of Writing 'Spice'

Serial Fiction

Little Ghost - Pt 2

An East Arcadia Tale

Grace R. Colt's avatar
Grace R. Colt
Jun 15, 2025
∙ Paid

If you’re in the US, today is Father’s Day—Happy Father’s Day to those who celebrate. I got some good feedback last week about the new format for the substack, and I hope that continues this week with the continuation of last week’s story. As always, feel free to leave me your feedback and comments, I read and respond to everything I receive!

Image by philpace from Pixabay

Of all the students at this gods forsaken academy, naturally the one I hated most would be the trigger for my latent phantom abilities. Before Ryker could utter a word, I’d scrounged up what was left of my power to phase, landing back in my room with a crash. It was empty, and I was glad Jessa and Drake had vacated it for the time being, though it stank of sex. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, moving to open the window in hopes of clearing the air.

One of the worst parts about being a witch-turned-phantom is the latent power other phantoms don’t have. Every faction was different, and mine was no exception. As witches, the Lennox line were powerful, drawing magic from the sun and the leaves of trees. But close to the beginning of our family line, one of the males in our family fell prey to a succubus. I’d never received any of the magic that came with that union, though my sister had.

It would figure that in death, that magic would become accessible. As a phantom, I could sense it, but I had never been able to use it. When Ryker had attacked me earlier, and desire flooded through me, it wasn’t my own. The need to escape him had overridden every sense, triggering self-preservation. In my need to break free, I had pulled on that magic for the first time in one hundred forty seven years.

Unlike me, Ryker wasn’t immune to manipulation of any kind, and that power had overwhelmed him at the time. I lay sprawled across my bed, feeling the pulsing of awakened magic thrumming through my system. Desire I hadn’t felt since turning now held a prominent hold over my body, and my skin felt balmy, as though the summer sun were soaking into it. Outside my room, the bustle of movement and conversation pulled me from my reverie, and I glanced at my watch to see that a couple hours had passed.

Mid-afternoon had come quickly, and I didn’t want to waste any more time getting to Mara. I needed a top-off, too, or I wouldn’t even be able to phase there. Digging through my pack, I was grateful to find my less-than-graceful landing had not broken the bottles I’d bought earlier. Half the bottle would get me to the cabin, but would leave me short on food for the weekend.

Breaking the seal on the bottle, magic crackled beneath my fingers before the containment spell unraveled. I groaned with pleasure as the fear trapped within began to flow out in sickly chartreuse smoke. The terror within was so potent I could tell what manner of creature it came from and what caused it. A rare treat.

Chaotic panic threaded its way through my aura, finding the center of my power and sinking in, fueling me. It wasn’t as strong as live fear, but this came pretty close. Power infused me like a lightning strike, jolting my dormant magic back to life with the last wisps of magic evaporated into the air.

“Smells like a fury got hold of a seraphim.”

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