The ghost followed. It didn’t make a sound, merely floated at a pace that was just a bit faster than walking, its long cloth-like robes fluttering in an invisible wind behind it as it trailed after me. Still, that look on its face, of indescribable rage and anger never faded, and the soft white glow of its eyes locked onto me and didn’t let go.

I ran back through the crack in the wall, then back down the passage. I hoped that it wouldn’t follow, but that was dashed when first a hand, then an arm started to push through the wall. The ghost glowed faintly, especially where it was phasing through.

Still, the motion slowed it down.

“Rarr,” Bonsey said as I stumbled past him and into the office. Something, I needed something to hurt the ghost. I ran out with a bottle of wine that flew through the ghost’s form and smashed against a wall uselessly, the stick--once a chair leg--that I threw next did the same.

I looked around, then picked up Bonesy’s head. “Bite him!” I said as I flung the skeletal head at my adversary.

Bonesy ‘rawred’ as he flew through the air, then, much to my surprise and that of the ghost, the skeletal head chomped down on the ghost’s face. “Rarg, ragr, rarre,” Bonesy said as he chewed.

I stared, then it clicked. Bonesy was magic. Magic worked on ghosts. It was all rather obvious.

Running into the barracks, I passed the beds and moved into the bathroom. The showerhead glyph was stuck in a metallic basket above, one that wasn’t meant to be pried out of the wall, but I had desperation on my side. It came off with a clang and crunch, leaving me with a rusty metal basket and a magical, faintly luminescent stone in it that was still dripping water onto the ground.

The ghost had freed itself from Bonesy’s mouthy grasp but not without suffering from my boney friend’s cruel ministrations. There were tears in its ghostly form, and whitish vapour was pouring out of it.

I edged closer to the ghost, hoping to slip by it, but the evil-no-good monster blocked my path and spread its arms out as if to give me the deadest hug ever.

“I’m sorry!” I said as I held the showerhead before me. “I just wanted to say hi.”

The ghost didn’t care, he, it, just advanced on me.

I clocked it in the jaw with my magical showerhead.

The ghost wavered in the air, its face distorted, the anger turned to pain for a moment before returning tenfold. It swiped at me, but I ducked and moved so that a bed was between us. Its next swipe clawed through the mattress with ease.

“I’m really sorry,” I said again as I moved up to the ghost and swiped through its entire body with the shower head from head to crotch. There was some resistance... then nothing.

The ghost split apart, both halves smoking as it turned into a fine white dust that spread across the floor.

I sneezed.

Ding! Congratulations, you have murdered ‘Sentinel Ghost of Threewells by Darkwood’ Level 1! Bonus Exp was granted for brutally killing a monster above your level!

“M-murdered?” I repeated before I tried to grab the box. “That wasn’t murder, it was self-defence! Self-defence! Where’s my jury of peers?”

“Rar?” Bonsey asked.

“You don’t count.” I snapped back; then I regretted it. Bonesy had helped a lot. “Sorry. I’m a bit stressed.”

I brought my showerhead with me as I moved around, now vigilant for any ghosts. The Sentinel Ghost hadn’t seemed all that good at guarding really, but maybe there were more and maybe they patrolled. I would have to sleep with one eye open.

Still, I had learned a few important lessons:

Ghosts weren’t magic resistant at all.

They were also scary.

Bonesy’s bites were serious business.

This place was probably called Threewells by Darkwood.

A level one ghost was nearly strong enough to end my adventuring career.

I needed to hurry up and level up. Get out there and face the music. Find more ghosts and murd-- cleanse their poor souls.

Yup.

That’s what I needed to do.

“Hey, Bonesy, you wouldn’t mind if I cleaned up around here, right? Right, of course not.” Grinding a skill was also a perfectly valid way of spending my time, of course. It was a nice, soothing action and it in no way reminded me that I had almost turned into a ghost myself.

I started with the papers, moving all of them to the chest in the barracks that looked the least worn. They might end up staying dry for longer in there, in case anyone ever wanted to read them. I intended to go over them myself, but I would need to bring them outside for the light and.... Later, maybe.

I used the broom and mop as makeshift dusters and ended up sneezing up a storm as the room filled with age-old clouds of dust. By the time I was done and my sneezing fits stopped, I was greeted by a floating box.

Congratulations! Through repeated actions your Cleaning skill has improved and is now eligible for rank up!

Rank E is a free rank!

A free rank? I thought about my Cleaning skill, and low and behold the menu for it appeared.

Cleaning

Rank F - 100%

The ability to clean. As this skill rises in level your ability to Clean will improve!

This ability is ready to rank up.

Do you wish to increase Cleaning to Rank E?

“Sure?” I tried.

Congratulations! Cleaning is now Rank E!

I blinked at the new box and reopened the skill to see the change.

Cleaning

Rank E - 0%

The ability to clean. Your proficiency and instincts for cleanliness have improved! Clean faster, clean better.

“O-kay,” I said. That was nice, I supposed. I hoped that cleaning was one of those skills that was versatile. I had to clean my clothes too at some point, and maybe take a shower later. Still, the progress was nice. I swept all the dust I had kicked up into a neat pile, then used a file folder to scoop it into one of the chests that was now a garbage chest.

Then, out came the showerhead and mop and bucket. The spray was... weak, and my mana ticked down fairly quickly while using it, but it still gave me enough water to start scrubbing the floor.

An hour had passed, maybe more, before I glanced at my skills page again.

Cleaning

Rank E - 06%

So, about five percent for one room. Which meant... not much. Slower than Rank F, which wasn’t too surprising. Shrugging, I looked over the office area. It was far from perfect. There were wet streaks on the ground and I couldn’t do anything about the broken furniture, but it looked like it had been abandoned last year instead of a decade or five ago.

Oh well.

The barracks were next, then the bathroom where I pinched my nose and wished for a nice pair of latex gloves as I cleaned around the wooden latrine hole. At least with the passing of decades anything... biodegradable, had rotted away to nothing.

I wiped the sweat off my brow and looked over the newly cleaned room. There wasn’t much I could do about the mattresses, though I had found one that was filled with a slightly less moldy filling. If I really needed to sleep here, I could use that bed. Maybe.

Shrugging, I turned my efforts to the floor above, though there was little I could do in the armory except smash the wood into kindling and stack it neatly before mopping up the floor.

Cleaning

Rank E - 14%

I stared at the skills page for a while, then dismissed it. The sun had passed its zenith and was falling now, the skies not yet turning the yellow-orange of mid-day, but approaching it fast. That was fine. Totally okay.

I wasn’t afraid of the dark.

I was afraid of the ghosts living... unliving in it.

“Oh boy,” I said. Cleaning was all well and good, but all I was doing was preparing a nice spot for my body to lay. That, and I was hungry. The lukewarm water from the showerhead was handy, but it wouldn’t fill my tummy up. “I need a weapon,” I said.

I turned towards Bonesy. The skeletal head was resting on one of the desks, mouth working to chew through a piece of rotting wood with wet, mushy noises.

“Any ideas?” I asked the head.

“Rrr.”

“Yeah. I can’t exactly stick the shower head at the end of a stick and call it a mace. Your head would be a much better weapon.”

I blinked.

There was some twine laying around, and cloth that could be used as rope. There was even a broken spear from the armory, more of a length of wood with a metal cap on the end than anything else, but it was usable.

I got creative!

Nearly an hour and two almost-chewed fingers later, I had a brand new weapon!

“Wraare!” Bonesy said from his place of pride at the end of my spear. The shaft was stuck through the hole for his spine and into his braincase, and I'd wrapped him in strips of cloth to keep him from rattling around. I didn't want to blind him, though, so I left a gap for his glowing eyes to glare out of.

“I shall dub this weapon... The staff of Bonesy! No, that’s silly. The Ghostbuster? The bone stick? The boner club?” I flushed. “Not that last one.”

“Rrrr,” Bonesy agreed.

Thus armed, I prepared myself to explore once more. My trusty showerhead in my haversack, my Bonesy stick in one hand and all my prayers in mind as I stepped out into the fading daylight.

No ghosts in sight.

I moved slowly around the buildings again, tiptoeing as quietly as I could while taking in the town. The homes were in rough shape, but could probably have been renovated and repaired with a bit of love and care. I bet there was a Carpentry skill out there somewhere.

As I rounded the corner, I took in a little plaza with a few smaller homes and a big stone well in the middle. There were more homes than I had initially realized, maybe twenty or twenty-five in all.

It wasn’t until I was nearing the main road that I saw the second ghost.

This one looked rather pitiful, floating nearer to the ground, its cloth-like flesh... stuff, all torn up. It seemed to be moving around in a big circle at a slow, shuffling pace. I didn’t want to fight it, I really didn’t.

“Hey there, Mister Ghosty,” I said.

The ghost's floating stopped and it slowly turned towards me. Its dull eyes searched around then locked onto me. It frowned.

“I don’t mean any trouble,” I said before raising both hands up in surrender.

The ghost charged.

Well, charge implies rapid movement. The ghost shambled forward like a plastic shopping bag on a windless afternoon. “I’m sorry.” I said as I bonked it on the head with Bonesy.

The ghost hit the ground and sort of splattered into dust.

I sneezed again, then looked around to see if anyone or anything had heard. There was only a new box to greet me.

Ding! Congratulations, you have plotted and successfully carried out the homicide of ‘Sentinel Ghost of Threewells by Darkwood’ Level 1! Bonus Exp was granted for killing a monster above your level!

“No,” I squeaked before my hand slapped across my mouth. “It wasn’t homicide, I swear,” I said.

“Rrre,” Bonesy accused.

“No,” I squeaked again.

Looking down, I noticed a bit of cloth left on the ground, cloth that shimmered lightly. A poke with my foot didn’t do anything except move it about. I carefully picked it up. A loot drop? Inspecting it revealed nothing, but it did shimmer with a certain ethereal quality. I slid it into my haversack and picked my Bonesy stick up again.

There were ghosts around, and no telephone to call the Ghostbusters, which left no one but little old me to take care of things.

I whimpered.