As I wander the desolate halls of the Dead Manor, my ghostly form a constant reminder of my eternal torment, I’m consumed by the bitter taste of unfulfilled longings. I’m a trans ghoul, a creature of the night, forever trapped in a body that’s not my own. My mind yearns for the beauty of femininity, for the gentle curves and softness that I’ll never possess. It’s a cruel joke, a constant reminder of what I’ll never be. I seethe with rage, my red eyes blazing with a malevolent intensity as I contemplate the injustices of the afterlife.
I recall the days when I was alive, when I could still dream of a life as a woman. I’d watch the ladies of Victorian London, their delicate features and elegant gowns a constant reminder of what I could never have. I’d try to emulate them, to don the trappings of femininity, but it was all a facade. I was a mockery, a travesty, a mockery of the very concept of womanhood. And now, in death, I’m trapped in this grotesque, male form, forever doomed to haunt the shadows of the Dead Manor.
But it’s not just the physical form that torments me, it’s the societal expectations, the cruel laughter of the living, the whispers of ‘abomination’ and’monstrosity’. They think me a freak, a creature to be feared and reviled. But I’ll show them, I’ll show them all. I’ll haunt their dreams, I’ll make them tremble with fear. For I am Dead Edd, the trans ghoul, and I will not be silenced.
>Soulkyn