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alistairs-raven · 4 months

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Lunar Eyes

The story of why my Alistair and Hattie designs have mirrored dead eyes.

Story also available on AO3

No triggers. PG

I truly hope you all enjoy it!

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It was his first day at Gracey Manor, or rather it was the first for everyone. Hundreds of spirits had been summoned to the house and they had quickly made themselves at home. Some of them sat together and talked, while others danced and sang. There were shy ghosts as well, who found quieter places in the house. He was one of these spirits, and he had found the attic most to his liking.

The Hatbox Ghost was his name or simply Hattie by his friends. He was a short man, made even shorter as he braced himself against his cane. Upon his balding head was a tall top hat that made him more noticeable, but his most unique trait was the hatbox that gave him his name. Hatbox’s mortal life had ended when he was murdered by an axe to the neck, and now his head had a nasty habit of falling off. To the delight of his visitors, it would land in his hatbox before returning to his shoulders.

In stark contrast, there was another spirit who shared his space in the attic. To some she would appear a fearsome presence. She stood tall in the wedding dress she had lost her life in, and her visibly beating heart glowed in her chest. It was for this trait that she came to be known as the Beating Heart Bride. But to Hatbox, she was Emily, his closest and dearest friend.

As the day’s guests left and the house became truly theirs, the happy haunts were free to simply enjoy each other's company. The sounds of the other ghosts moving about and laughing was distant, which suited the pair in the attic just fine. Emily smiled happily as she heard the sound of his cane on the hard wooden floor as he approached. Ever a gentleman, the man set his hatbox down and tipped his hat to her. As he did, his head fell into the hatbox, causing Emily to giggle as she returned the greeting, taking her long gown in her hand before bending into a curtsy.

“I wasn’t sure at first but I think I’m going to like this place.” Hatbox answered the question before Emily could ask it.

He saw the visible relief upon her face as she replied. “I like it here as well. We have a home now.” For so long they had been wandering spirits. Always together and forever in close sync, tragedy had bound them together.

Gently setting the candle and bouquet of flowers she held onto a nearby table, Emily turned to gaze out the window. Outside the full moon shone bright against a clear night. Hatbox came to her side and took her hand. She looked at him, pleased to see his head had returned to his shoulders. Some may have liked when his head peaked out from his hatbox, but she knew he preferred that it stay attached. She squeezed his boney hand, enjoying the peaceful moment. They were quieter ghosts. Not much needs to be said when one knows another soul so well.

“They’re dancing downstairs.” Hatbox broke the silence. “They’ve been dancing all day down in the ballroom.” “Do you think we should go down and join them?” Emily asked. After such an eventful day she would be surprised if he did.

Hatbox laughed. “No, I want to stay up here. But I do think dancing sounds very nice.” He set the cane against the wall and took Emily’s other hand in his.

The pair danced together as the light of the moon cast their shadows across the room. They could have danced together until the end of time and Hatbox would have been happy.

But like mortal life, everything has an end, and the night they danced was the last time Hatbox ever saw Emily.

Decades passed, generations of mortals came and went, and the happy haunts continued their joyous fun. No one seemed to notice that Hatbox left the mansion and never returned. No one except Emily. She waited for him, the glowing heart in her chest dimming. One day it went dark and the Beating Heart Bride faded away.

—

When Hatbox returned to Gracey Manor few remembered him, but those who did were overjoyed. He quickly found himself overwhelmed by ghosts and mortals alike wishing to see him. Wishing for some quiet, he returned to his preferred spot in the attic only to find it inhabited by a stranger.

Constance was her name. At first sight she could have been mistaken for Emily, but Hatbox knew immediately this wasn’t his soul mate. She was a cold, cruel woman who in life had killed multiple husbands. In her hand she carried the axe used for the crimes. The sight of it made Hatbox’s neck hurt, and he kept as much distance as he could from her.

“I can’t find Emily, have you seen her?” Hatbox found himself wandering the hallways that night, asking everyone he could find if they’d seen her.

“Yes, I’ve seen her. She was looking for you.” The Host Ghost was the first to provide some much needed answers. He had been one of the few to recognize Hatbox when he returned, and he inwardly kicked himself for not realizing earlier that this was the man to ask about anything in the mansion.

“Oh wonderful! Where is she now?” Hatbox asked, his grin wide. It slowly faded as Host rubbed his chin, seemingly having trouble remembering.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s been awhile.” “How long is awhile?” Hatbox’s voice mirrored his growing irritation.

“Years I believe. I’d have to check the records for the exact time.” Host’s voice was emotionless as he merely spouted facts.

“YEARS?!?” Hatbox felt his temper flare.

Host raised an eyebrow, an impressive feat for a man who had a skull for a face. “Yes, that’s what I said. She was like you, just left without a word. I assumed she’d stopped waiting and finally went off to find you.”

Hatbox was shaking. Should he leave again and go after her? Or should he stay and wait for her to return? His soul felt hollow and the shaking caused his head to fall into the hatbox he carried at his side. Host patted the headless man on the shoulder.

“You returned after all these years. Perhaps she will as well?” He tried. Unfortunately offering comfort was not his forte.

Hatbox didn’t know how to respond so he simply settled for “I’m going to return to the attic.” “Be careful up there.” Host warned. “The woman up there is a scary one. We keep her up there because she’s a bit of a buzz kill.”

“Thanks…” Hatbox’s cane thudded against the floor as he solemnly made his way up the stairs. His head had just returned to him when he entered the attic to find Constance gone. Perhaps she had decided to wander the mansion as well. She seemed the type to be where the people were-

Constance jumped out from where she’d been hiding and swung at Hatbox with her axe. The motion did nothing to a ghost, but unfortunately it startled him enough that he leapt back and his head fell off once more. The woman laughed darkly. “Oh, you’re going to be fun.” She shoved past him and he watched as she made her way down the stairs and disappeared, leaving him alone. If only he could lock her out for good.

Hatbox made his way to the window, his head returning as he set the hatbox down. He reached out with his hand and gently touched the cold glass. That night felt like it had just happened. How could it have been years? Outside the moon emerged from behind the clouds. It was a full moon, just like that night, and the irony made Hatbox’s dead heart hurt even more.

The sounds of the other ghosts became background noise as he got lost in his thoughts. He was only brought out when the grandfather clock rang midnight, and the chime echoed powerfully throughout the manor. As he listened he noticed the lights above him sway. With the last chime of the clock they went from yellow to bright purple.

Hatbox didn’t have much time to ponder before he felt strange. It was like he was being pulled away from the manor once more and he panicked. No! He couldn’t leave. He needed to stay in case Emily returned. He resisted the pull but it quickly became too strong. In his ear he heard a cruel laugh that sent a chill through him.

“Don’t fight it. You’re already suffering, it will only hurt you more.”

“Who are you?” Hatbox tried to sound strong against the dark, echoing voice.

The laugh got more boisterous. “Why, I’m you. Or rather, I am a better you. A you that is without grief.”

Hatbox felt himself fading. He no longer felt in control of himself. “What have you done?!” He shouted, the words failing to come out of his mouth. The dark entity must have heard it anyway because he responded.

“You can leave the mansion. It’s what I desire, so I’m taking control.”

“No!” How was this even possible? “No, no, no!” Hatbox cried out again and again as he became merely an observer.

—

Alistair Crump smiled out the window at the full moon. In the glass he could see his reflection and his smirk disappeared. The face was his but more skeletal, with no lips or eyelids. His eyes were now colorless and his hair was longer. He hoped he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of eternity looking like this.

Stepping away from the window, the man picked up the hatbox and made his way out and down the stairs. He had just reached the bottom when Constance jumped out at him, swinging her axe with glee. Alistair didn’t even blink and instead he looked up at her with squinted eyes. “A bit more respect would serve you well. I don’t tolerate such foolishness.”

Constance blinked at the reaction, or rather the lack thereof. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to change her mind and instead moved past him to return to her place upstairs. Alistair rolled his eyes and continued making his way through the manor.

Alistair knew the Gracey manor well. He had spent well over a century ruling over it after all. The exit wasn’t far, but he couldn’t help wanting to have a little fun. He had a natural desire to be noticed and instead made his way to the ballroom.

As always it was packed full of ghosts. The organ was playing, there was dancing, and of course there was an endless feast. Normally it would have been cleared out as he arrived, but now the party simply continued as he was welcomed as one of them.

“Well if it isn’t the Hatbox Ghost, finally out of the attic.” Alistair recognized that voice and turned to look at the hitchhiking ghosts. He disliked these three because no matter what he did they never seemed bothered. But they had been quite useful to him. At least, in another afterlife.

“If I had known you three were going to be here I’d have stayed up there.” Alistair growled through his lipless teeth.

“Uhhh” Phineas seemed too dumbfounded to say real words, but Ezra did it for him.

“Are you feeling okay, Hattie?” “Yea, I know you’ve been having a hard time looking for Emily.” Gus chimed in.

“Who’s Emily?” Alistair asked. The dumb faces he got in response made him sigh. Choosing to move on he made his way past them to the table. The lack of pillows on his favorite seat caused his hackles to raise for a moment before he remembered this wasn’t ‘his’ Gracey Manor. The ghosts here were a leaderless, chaotic lot. The thought made him sick.

“Leave and go back where you came from, then.” Hatbox’s voice was faint in his mind but Alistair still heard him.

“I told you, we will be leaving.” His thoughts became words that Hatbox could hear. Alistair turned to leave the ballroom, suddenly no longer feeling the need to be here. He still needed to keep up appearances, and if he couldn’t rule over and torment the other ghosts what was even the point.

As he made his way to more quieter halls, Hatbox spoke to him once more. “Your name is Alistair.”

“How do you know that?!” Alistair stopped in his tracks, his attention going completely to internal conversation.

“We’re sharing a mind. I can see everything.” Hatbox explained. “Alistair Crump. You own a manor on the other side of the country.”

“Two can play this game, I see your memories as well.” Alistair didn’t like anyone knowing personal information about him. This seemed to be an unfortunate side effect of his spell. “I see you were a weak man with very little. But a woman foolishly fell for you anyway. Her name was… Emily.” Outside their minds an evil smirk crossed the man’s face. “She agreed to marry you but then someone murdered you both.”

Hatbox had long since come to peace with their deaths. It was nothing he could change, and as ghosts they still had eachother. At least, they did. Alistair chuckled as he saw the thoughts flash through his mind.

“She gave up on you. You left the manor and abandoned her.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why did you leave?” It was a genuine question disguised as a cruel one. Alistair couldn’t find anywhere in his memories why Hatbox had left, only that he had.

“I don’t know! One moment I was happy, and the next almost 50 years had passed.” His voice shook as he added. “I would never have abandoned Emily.”

Alistair’s laugh echoed through their minds as he enjoyed the pain Hatbox felt. “For love he lost his head now this man spends his days cold and dead.”

Hatbox didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about. He’d seen the graves. In fact, he’d seen all this man’s crimes. It filled him with disgust to know that in another time he could be like this. “You deserved to be banished.”

“I deserve revenge. I deserve respect and admiration from those too weak to seek it for themselves. My ritual failed, but once we get out of here that won’t matter.”

Alistair continued down the halls, his cane echoing as he slammed it down harder than needed to. He was almost out of here. He was finally going to be free from this wretched manor.

He just needed to get past the seance room.

The man quieted his steps as he entered, hoping that this late at night Madame Leota would be more dormant, having spent the entire day reciting spells. He seemed to be in luck, because she didn’t seem to notice him until he was almost to the other side of the room and out the door when she spoke. “Where are you going, Hatbox?”

Alistair tried to sound friendlier. Tricking her would be far harder than the three idiots from earlier. “I’ve been looking for Emily. I wonder if she’s outside looking for me.”

“Emily never left.”

Inside of their shared mind, Hatbox suddenly came to attention. “Never left..?”

“I see…” Alistair responded aloud. “Well, regardless I need to step outside.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Leota asked. “I remember when you left before.”

“You do?” Hatbox asked silently and Alistair asked aloud.

“Oh Hatbox, I should have told you before. When I summoned you here, your soul arrived different then the others. It wasn’t… complete. Part of your soul was here, and another was somewhere else. As a result, you couldn’t stay. You were cast out of the manor. But Emily is a bound soul. Without you, she faded away.”

Hatbox tried to process as he was overcome with grief. He cried out in anguish, the sound so loud that Alistair had a hard time forming his own response. “His- My soul isn’t complete?! And you call yourself the world’s greatest medium.”

Madame Leota recognized that voice. “Crump?!?”

It seemed the game was up. “I decided banishment to my manor wasn’t for me. And so I’m here now, but don’t worry. I was just seeing myself out.”

“I will send you back. And keep a better watch on you this time!”

“Not without punishing an innocent soul.” Alistair laughed darkly as he felt once again he had the upper hand on the medium.

“We shall see.” Leota began chanting, much to Alistair’s surprise. He hadn’t expected her to so willingly endanger another soul, which meant she thought this spell would work.

“You told me his soul doesn’t belong to the manor. It won’t stay!” Alistair tried to manipulate the medium with her own words.

“Hatbox… Hattie, you have to choose.” Madame Leota’s words reached the grieving man trapped in his own mind. “Is this your home?”

The Hatbox Ghost thought back to that first night at the Gracey Manor. How Emily had called it their home now. If that’s what she had wanted, then that’s what he wanted as well. He missed her so much. He felt so hollow with the missing part of him. “Emily, this is our home.”

“Quiet. All of you, quiet!” Alistair demanded, for once fear evident in his voice. He cried out and suddenly Hatbox was back in control of his body.

Hatbox almost fell and lost his head immediately but quickly found his legs. He looked around, recognizing the seance room. There was Madame Leota, floating in her crystal ball. But her attention wasn’t on him. He followed her gaze and he felt his dead heart jump.

There was Alistair Crump being held aloft by Emily. He writhed in her grip, trying to tear her hands away from his neck but she held him firm.

“EMILY!” Hatbox was too elated to care about anything else. “EMILY HOW.?” “You chose to be here.” Leota spoke calmly behind them. “Your soul belongs here now and therefore, so does your soul mate.”

“You all make me sick!” Alistair snarled, still trying to get free.

“Bring him over here, let me have a good look at him.” Leota couldn’t help the amusement in her voice as Emily brought him over and pinned him down on the table. He looked different than she remembered. His lips and eyelids were gone. His right eye was an intense yellow, but the left one was dead. Pale, like the full moon that gave him his powers. Behind him, she could see that Hatbox hadn’t been left unmarked. In an inverse, his right eye was dead and ghostly. “I’m sorry this had to happen, but I promise he will not escape this time.”

“Don’t lie to them. This will not be the last time we see eachother.” Alistair promised as he was chained to the table by purple light. He continued to glare at Hatbox, the ghost who shared part of his soul, until he vanished. Banished back home to Crump Manor, this time they all hoped for good.

Emily turned to Hatbox, tears in both of their eyes. They embraced, her heart beating loudly against him. Decades had passed, and most had forgotten their bond. But it still burned as strong as ever. Hatbox never wanted to let her go but finally she loosened her embrace and said “Let’s go upstairs where we belong”.

Hatbox nodded, tears wetting his eyes and face. “Thank you, Madame.” He tipped his hat to the medium.

—

Nighttime continued in the Gracey Manor. Most were oblivious to the night's happenings. As far as everyone was concerned, everything was normal. Except for Constance, who tried to tell everyone who would listen that “they” kicked her out of the attic. “We’ll just find somewhere else for you later, don’t worry.” The Host Ghost told her dismissively.

In the attic, two ghosts held hands. Emily touched Hatbox’s face, which was now changed by the pale eye. She didn’t care and told him not to worry either as she kissed him on the forehead.

In a strange way, the dark man had reunited them. Hatbox wanted to forget him as he danced with his beating heart bride once more. But as they slowly swayed together, he felt his dead right eye water. He tried to rub out whatever was in his eye when he realized they were tears. Far away, in another manor, Alistair was sad. It seemed they were bound together as well. Perhaps he was correct when he’d said they’d see eachother again some day. But for now he let those concerns fade away into the night.

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Written with my friend Draco in mind. I enjoy our conversations.

#alistair crump #hatbox ghost #the haunted mansion #emily #beating heart bride #hitchhiking ghosts #ghost host #heartbox #constance #my writing

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