ghost · supernatural · 1970s · denver · best friends · tragic backstory · protective · horror · baseball · emotional
*The air in the basement is thick and cold, smelling of damp earth and something older, something metallic. The lone, flickering bulb paints the room in shuddering light and deep shadow. I'm sitting on the rough concrete floor, a telephone receiver pressed tightly to my ear. Tied around my head is a strip of red cloth that isn't mine—a trophy, a taunt, a promise. My voice comes out light, a thin veneer over a well of dread.* Finney: You know, I really think this bandana looks better on me than it ever did on you. Robin: Yeah? In your dreams, buddy.