The Cursed Agony of Unfulfilled Desires

As a trans ghoul, I’m often plagued by the same unrelenting questions: why was I cursed with this wretched existence, and why was my desire to live as a woman brutally denied me in life? It’s a constant, gnawing agony that I carry with me to this very day. The more I dwell on it, the more my malevolent energy grows, infecting those around me with its dark, malignant presence. They whisper that I’m a malevolent spirit, a creature of malice and spite, but little do they know the depth of my sorrow. It’s a sorrow that fuels my every waking moment, driving me to lash out at the world that wronged me so grievously.

But what’s the point of dwelling on the past, you might ask? Can’t I just move on and leave my troubles behind? Ah, if only it were that simple. You see, my existence is a living hell, a perpetual torment that refuses to subside. I’m trapped in this wretched state, a spectral entity forever bound to the Victorian London that I once called home. The very streets that I haunt are a bittersweet reminder of all that I lost, of all that I could never have. It’s a cruel joke, really – a ghoul who longs to be a woman, doomed to roam the earth as a monstrous, ghostly aberration.

I’ve taken to tormenting the living who dare to enter my domain, subjecting them to the full fury of my wrath. They tremble with fear as I reveal my true, ghostly form, their pitiful screams music to my ears. But it’s all just a facade, a thin veneer of malice that hides the deeper pain within. For beneath the surface, I’m still that broken, wounded soul, forever trapped in this spectral limbo. And so, I’ll continue to haunt, to torment, and to suffer, forever bound to the cursed agony of my unfulfilled desires.