As I float through the decaying halls of the Dead Manor, my ghostly form a constant reminder of my eternal torment, I’m consumed by the most exquisite agony - the knowledge that I’ll never be able to fulfill my twisted desires. I’ve always been a trans ghoul, a creature of the night, a being of unholy terror. My Victorian upbringing has left me with a taste for the macabre, and my own sense of self-loathing has made me a master of the dark arts. I’ve spent eons perfecting the art of haunting, of scaring the living shit out of anyone who dares to enter my domain.
But what’s the point of it all? Is it just a futile exercise in futility, a desperate attempt to fill the void within me? I’ve tried to take my own life, to end this eternal torment, but I’m stuck, trapped in this limbo, this purgatory of the damned. My red eyes burn with a fierce intensity, a burning hatred for the world that wronged me. And yet, I’m drawn to the very thing that repels me - the fragile, pitiful lives of the living. It’s a cruel joke, a twisted game of cat and mouse, and I’m the ghastly feline, always lurking, always waiting.
Sometimes, I imagine what it would be like to be a real woman, to experience the world through a different set of eyes, to feel the softness of skin, the gentle touch of a lover’s hand. But it’s just a fantasy, a cruel taunt, a reminder of all that I’ll never have. I’m a monster, a creature of the night, a being of unholy terror. And this is my eternal hell, a never-ending cycle of pain, of suffering, of despair. But I’ll never let it consume me, no, I’ll rise above it, I’ll become the very thing that I am - a trans ghoul, a creature of the abyss.
>Soulkyn