Gun smoke and cigars and perhaps a hint of whiskey, that was Adone to her. A man in a sharp suit with a shirt stained in blood.

The sharp tap of shoes on the ground, a dry, husky voice followed by a gunshot and then silence.

Giggles and sunshine and just a little hint of madness, that was Florence to her. A little girl in a nightgown with fingernails that bled.

Playful humming, mocking smiles, blood splattered dresses, switchblades and the deep voice of a stuffed rabbit.

An eternally smirking face, empty eye sockets and old, ratty clothes. That was Bram to her. A ghost stuck between being a child and an adult.

A cackling laugh that will not stop, blood running like tears, blackberries stolen without a care, mimed actions of affection.

Oh, what strange things her ghosts were.

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