The place was a ghost town. Despite its breath-taking locale, Appaloosa Plains had become a shadow of what it once was. The residents of the "sleepy ranching town" had drifted off, leaving behind shells of homes, crumbling remnants of Victorian architecture and empty streets. The city tried to save its existence by offering a funding assistance program for repairs, but the program collapsed when it was discovered that nearly all the buildings were contaminated with asbestos, had unsafe lead piping, needed all-new roofs or their foundations completely redone. Historical building legislation delayed construction work to such an extent that people opted to sell their homes to the government at a loss so they could move away from the red tape and renovation nightmare that their neighborhood trapped in. Now almost no residents were left and there was no city government to speak of. Appaloosa Plains was nothing more than a mess that needed to be cleaned up. Luckily, cleaning up...
Bridget awoke to an unfamiliar sensation. A chill ran through her body. "Altman?" she instinctively called out, her voice quiet and weighed down with sleep. She blinked a few times, realizing there was an odd light coming from somewhere on her husband's side of the bed. She reached out and flicked the lightswitch that turned on their bedside lamps. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light as she sat up. She turned and realized Altman wasn't next to her in the bed. She leapt up, nearly falling over, when she realized he was the source of the odd light. Her beloved husband was a ghostly apparition, floating next to his side of their bed. "No," Bridget breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No, no, no…" Panic rose in her chest. What was left of Altman just floated there, seemingly not hearing her. He was facing the wall. Did she want him to turn around? "Altman?" she said weakly, tears welling in her eyes. The ghost st...