Secretly, she hoped that some day, some Author would option her, so that she could voice (and possibly have fulfilled) the secret wish that had first set her to wandering about these benighted corridors, so many moons agone: Could you please grant me another tit, kind sir/mistress/slimy tentacled thing? I have only one, you see... Of course, that would kind of spoil the aptness of her name, which would be a bummer, so she had little hope...
Phantomness was proving another dead end. Perhaps in other options she was opening her door to beings of more interest than the poor Phantom Knocker, but here, in the the one that had given birth to those other possibilities, the Avatar had obviously concluded that the cause of the knock on her door was ... nothing.
And I am nothing, the Phantom Knocker concluded sadly. After all, what else could anyone consider a ghost with no corporeal existence, and with only half the qualifications necessary to land a female entity a role in this story-based universe? She sighed airily, the only way a ghost can sigh, and moved on to another Author's Suite, unaware for the nonce that she improbably had been options, if not by Phantomness, and that we, the readers, were moving on with her to follow the course of her strange and touching saga, long or brief as it might be, depending upon how the scenario picques the interest of other Authors...
Fri Feb 10 10:27:54 2006
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