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Description
Torturous souls are the souls that, when owned, took joy, pride, pleasure, or anything similar in bad deeds. Anything from someone who beats animals, to fucking Hitler. They usually see their ways was right, or they know they're wrong and just don't care.

I walk in the door, flinching at the thought of my father standing there, though I know it's impossible. I look around warily, relaxing as I feel a familiar cool touch my shoulder. I look to the owner of the hand on my skin, only to watch them return to the form of a soul, and fly around me before heading further in.

I shut and lock the door behind me, sighing, ignoring the flashes of screams in my ears. I turn around, the blink of a memory covering the walls as a little girl cowers in the corner at the man towering over her.

Torturous souls can be horrifying, even when owned. They're always dark, and radiate danger to those who understand it. The warmth around them, it's bad. But too many mistake it for friendliness.

I practically hear her begging for mercy as he lays into her with his belt again and again. I snap out of it at a flash of green, focusing on the orb in front of me. I roll my eyes, following it into the kitchen as I start making a frozen pizza.

I feel a chill graze across my back, and swirl around, seeing the spirit hovering over my fruit bowl. I sigh, shaking my head. "Fine, I'll have a salad with it. Okay? Now back off." I watch them flutter off, as I grunt softly. "Smartass." I mutter before putting the pizza in the oven. I hesitate, fighting off the urge to back away from the heat.

They rarely care about others. Often, if they have something they love, losing it makes them lash out at any reminders, causing them to become torturous souls. I know from experience, since I looked like my mother, according to dad.

Often after death, they continue to follow around the souls they loved to torture, taunting them. They usually refuse to pass on, since they lived for causing harm. Though it's unlikely that they can injure the owned souls, besides a slight burning sensation or a few scratches on their human forms, they can still torment free souls.

As my pizza cooks, I text David, inviting him over to eat. Getting a few fruits, I get out the cutting board, carefully slicing and dicing the food. I focus intensely on chopping up food, nearly screaming at a warm touch to my back. I whirl around, facing a dark soul mere inches from my face.

I harden my look, refusing to show my fear as it slowly circles me. I never take my eyes off it, but I can't resist a flinch as it flies past my face, heat brushing my cheek. It's chuckle echoes through my mind, and I tighten my jaw, focusing intently.

Torturous souls, while usually very strong due to their anger, aren't as powerful as protective souls. A tortured soul is the one thing a torturous soul fears. Why? Because they're so strong, that they can fight off the afterlife, and peace.

A torturous soul can only pass once they let go of their love of pain, or their anger. Torturous souls who are that way because of a passing lover, usually let go when they have them again, and go to peace. But not always.

I watch a green flash seer towards the torturous soul, before the evil entity swiftly disappears. "Thanks..." I say softly, before I go back to fixing the salads. I feel a very soft cold breeze encompass me, looking down to see the humanoid form giving me a hug. I slowly relax, and hear a knock on the door.

Torturous souls can often be mistaken by most humans for demons. And really, they're not always that far off. Sometimes, all they lack is the actual power to be equal to them. I know. I've seen demons before, too. Apparently, a soul like mine is rare, and very highly chased after.

I go, taking a deep breath before I open the door. I look at the head of the figure, seeing a familiar soul pop up. I smile as the gentle stardust entity lets off it's natural soothing aura. "Come on in, David."

Description
Torturous souls are the souls that, when owned, took joy, pride, pleasure, or anything similar in bad deeds. Anything from someone who beats animals, to fucking Hitler. They usually see their ways was right, or they know they're wrong and just don't care.

I walk in the door, flinching at the thought of my father standing there, though I know it's impossible. I look around warily, relaxing as I feel a familiar cool touch my shoulder. I look to the owner of the hand on my skin, only to watch them return to the form of a soul, and fly around me before heading further in.

I shut and lock the door behind me, sighing, ignoring the flashes of screams in my ears. I turn around, the blink of a memory covering the walls as a little girl cowers in the corner at the man towering over her.

Torturous souls can be horrifying, even when owned. They're always dark, and radiate danger to those who understand it. The warmth around them, it's bad. But too many mistake it for friendliness.

I practically hear her begging for mercy as he lays into her with his belt again and again. I snap out of it at a flash of green, focusing on the orb in front of me. I roll my eyes, following it into the kitchen as I start making a frozen pizza.

I feel a chill graze across my back, and swirl around, seeing the spirit hovering over my fruit bowl. I sigh, shaking my head. "Fine, I'll have a salad with it. Okay? Now back off." I watch them flutter off, as I grunt softly. "Smartass." I mutter before putting the pizza in the oven. I hesitate, fighting off the urge to back away from the heat.

They rarely care about others. Often, if they have something they love, losing it makes them lash out at any reminders, causing them to become torturous souls. I know from experience, since I looked like my mother, according to dad.

Often after death, they continue to follow around the souls they loved to torture, taunting them. They usually refuse to pass on, since they lived for causing harm. Though it's unlikely that they can injure the owned souls, besides a slight burning sensation or a few scratches on their human forms, they can still torment free souls.

As my pizza cooks, I text David, inviting him over to eat. Getting a few fruits, I get out the cutting board, carefully slicing and dicing the food. I focus intensely on chopping up food, nearly screaming at a warm touch to my back. I whirl around, facing a dark soul mere inches from my face.

I harden my look, refusing to show my fear as it slowly circles me. I never take my eyes off it, but I can't resist a flinch as it flies past my face, heat brushing my cheek. It's chuckle echoes through my mind, and I tighten my jaw, focusing intently.

Torturous souls, while usually very strong due to their anger, aren't as powerful as protective souls. A tortured soul is the one thing a torturous soul fears. Why? Because they're so strong, that they can fight off the afterlife, and peace.

A torturous soul can only pass once they let go of their love of pain, or their anger. Torturous souls who are that way because of a passing lover, usually let go when they have them again, and go to peace. But not always.

I watch a green flash seer towards the torturous soul, before the evil entity swiftly disappears. "Thanks..." I say softly, before I go back to fixing the salads. I feel a very soft cold breeze encompass me, looking down to see the humanoid form giving me a hug. I slowly relax, and hear a knock on the door.

Torturous souls can often be mistaken by most humans for demons. And really, they're not always that far off. Sometimes, all they lack is the actual power to be equal to them. I know. I've seen demons before, too. Apparently, a soul like mine is rare, and very highly chased after.

I go, taking a deep breath before I open the door. I look at the head of the figure, seeing a familiar soul pop up. I smile as the gentle stardust entity lets off it's natural soothing aura. "Come on in, David."