My gold

It was never about fear. It was about revenge. I couldn’t leave these yahoos to enjoy my rightful claim. After they bashed my head in with a pick, I just floated there in the mining shaft. Staring at the blood and brain matter spilling from my mangled head. At that moment, I swore revenge.

It didn’t take long to learn that as I moved objects around, made sounds, caused liquids to drip from the ceiling, it caused fear, growing my power. I felt unbridled joy watching them run from my claim. As my power grew, I found it easier to create copies of myself and others. More specters meant more fear, more power. Years blurred by as I chased off or killed every usurper that came into my mine. However, that was until they came in with machines. Machines that tore into the earth, chewing it up and spitted out the ore. There was no finesse, no skill, no art.

My specters and I tried to end the metal monsters and their miners. But they came as a tidal wave. Each one machine we ended, two more would show up. Each miner we chased off, more would come. If we stopped too many machines, they would use dynamite, that was more powerful than I had ever seen, to blow apart the shafts.

Then it happened. They found my gold, my motherlode, my treasure. The miners celebrated as a woman dressed like a fine gent claimed they had won against the Spectre Mine. Everyone cheered, as she moved over to my skeleton, my tether to the mine, and smiled as she crushed it under her heels. Each blow ate holes in my spectral body and sent agony throughout my being. As she slowly removed me from the world, I cursed her and her bloodline to never enjoy my gold.