Boo?

The moonlight spilled in through the cracked stained-glass window, casting dappled shadows across the grand old mansion’s dusty floor. Somewhere downstairs, a door creaked open. Footsteps echoed.

In the attic, Isabelle floated silently in midair, eyes wide with anticipation… and nerves.

She was new at this. Like, really new.

Being dead had been weird enough. But waking up in this haunted mansion with muscles bigger than tree trunks? That was on a whole other level of confusing.

She glanced at her reflection in the broken mirror. Her translucent arms were massive—each bicep rising into a proud, veiny arc even when she wasn’t flexing. Her abs? Shredded. Her quads? Freakishly powerful, thick with definition that made her gym days (when she had a gym) look like warm-ups.

But haunting people? She hadn’t figured that part out yet.

A rustle came from the staircase below.

Her heart (well… whatever ghosts had) skipped. Her glowing eyes narrowed.

“Okay, Izzy,” she whispered to herself, floating down a little, books swirling lazily around her. “You’re a ghost now. You can do this.”

She floated through the attic door and into the hallway. Below her, the intruder—some poor explorer with a flashlight and way too much curiosity—crept into view.

Isabelle cleared her throat.

And then, with the least-threatening voice imaginable, she whispered:
“…Boo?”

The man turned. He blinked. She flexed, panicking.

Her arms exploded outward—massive and shining even in the moonlight, her delts flaring, her triceps curving like polished granite. Veins snaked across every inch of her physique, and her translucent tank top clung to her enormous chest as if afraid to slide off.

The intruder screamed, dropped his flashlight, and sprinted back through the front door.

Isabelle blinked.

“…Wait. That worked?” She looked down at her arms, still flexed in disbelief. “Huh.”

She relaxed, floating slowly back into the attic with a bashful smile.

“Guess I am good at this haunting thing…”

She paused, then flexed again just for herself. Her pecs bounced as her arms surged, and one of the floating books thudded closed in approval.