Candeh- Okay, Well, new fiction I guess and I've only got a half an hour to start it so I'll come back later. Whew. Long sentence. Anyways, I've been on restriction for a couple of weeks so here I am now, just recovering from loss of AIM. It's pretty hard to be social when you can't go out. Good thing I've got a window out the back of my room perfect size for my body to slip through...though, it had landed me in more trouble...

Anyways, a Happy Christmas to you all...

And a Happy New Year to you all too.

And, since I can't fit the whole summary out there...I'll type the whole thing here for you all.

Summary: The death of a mysterious singer in the late 1980's takes place in old Amity Park. To this day, even the police cannot figure out what happened to the poor waitress singer that lonely night. What they don't know is that she's back and Ember McClain is looking for the only half human, half ghost who can help her find her killer...

Well, short...maybe it would all fit, but I wouldn't want to ruin the chances...well, I guess I can start. Oh, and how ever many reviews lets me continue...HAH...Oh, and for those of you that don't like people that hold their fictions for hostage:

I'm writing this fanfiction and if you ever want to see the next chapter again you must review...REVIEW LIKE THE WIND. Or you could just pay the find...I'd much rather you do that one. XP

Well, chapter one:

Chapter one:

"Where's that damned girl?" He asked, checking his rusting gold watch resting neatly on his hairy wrist. His gray eyes move slowly towards the bright clock on the wall, the colourful light beaming down on them hotly, "She said 5 o'clock sharp. It's 5:30...TOM!"

A beastly middle aged man wobbles his way from the bar counter and leans his head through the railing polls, "Yes, sir." If he saluted the man, his boss, would still have tossed his the weary look. At the grimace on his employee's face, the man loosened and tilted his head from the left to the right, calming himself unusually.

"Tom," He asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He had not been a normally harsh gentleman but at the thought at the late made him cringe, "Didn't I ask you to tell the young singer that she was supposed to arrive here at 5?"

With a gulp, Tom remembered the long haired brunette. How could he forget her? She had been wearing the most revealing clothing in all of Amity Park, "It's the 80's, Barker," He said, addressing his boss by his last name as he'd always, "How could you not remember her?"

Loris Barker shook his head. He had been tired from the past few days it took to even get this chick in to an interview. Her band was great, and the vocalist was perfect...nevertheless, she hadn't made it anywhere. Loris remembered her from the first time he'd seen her step her white skull boot in his pub, begging him for a gig.

"'Mr. Barker,'" Loris mimicked the stranger as he yanked his portly hat off his balding head, tossing it in the trash bin, "'Please, oh please, man, let me have this one gig. I won't let you down.'" For then, he had missed the gleam in her pale face.

At the sight of his boss' bald head, the overwhelmed and portly Tom Wager reached his hand in the mess of the trash bin. He wrinkled his nose as he yanked out the top hat of his boss' and long time friend, "Barker!" He called, chasing after him, wailing in the two sizes too big shoes, "Your hat."

It was with a sly blushing that Loris yanked it on his head, forever covering the shimmering spot on the round tip of his head, "Yes, thank you." And then his face paled, as from, out of the mist, the tall and menacing singer stepped a half gloved hand through the fog.

"I'm here!" She squealed, standing around the place as if it were her home. From the back of her, two men, looking oddly enough like skeleton men, rose around the mist as well. They wore no expression, but took at home as their lead singer.

"Well," Tom huffed, staring towards his boss, who blinked dumbfounded. His manly arms were crossed and the sleeves to his beige sweater had been rolled as if he were to hit her like she was his own daughter. But he didn't, and he tossed his fat arms in the air.

"Miss McClain!" He roared, sending the young girl of about 18 flying off the couch towards the tile on the floor you're an hour late. You should be grateful that," The girl gulped, staring at the man as if he were her beholder, "I'm still giving you this damned gig as well as your life!"

"Her life, sir?" Tom had addressed his boss horrified. He had never heard the friend as angry as he was now.

Loris raised a bulky hand and lightly hit his friend across the back, "Tom, it's an expression." Both Tom and the singer's face loosened as the other two members of the band remained expressionless.

"So," The girl dared, "I have the gig?"

At a sudden uproar of noise, Tom jumped and ran towards the red curtains, " It's a pub, Miss. Mclain,"

He stared to be cut off by Loris, "Full of drunk and outraged men who want nothing more to meet a drunk and outraged woman." He laughed a the sight of the miserable men sitting wildy on thier pedestals, "They don't care about an act."

The young girl's face hadn't fell. She picked up her magenta guitar and a hot pink pick from her bra under her shirt. At the sight of this, Loris Barker rolled both his eyes tiredly, "You actually keep it in there, girl?" And her smile broadened as she yanked out an extra from her suitcase she managed to carry along.

"Yes, sir," She nodded as she tossed it towards him, letting the silk touch lightly his head, "You should try it." And she marched her way up the stairs and out the stage, her two extra band members along with her.

Loris' disgusted face fell as he yanked off the tangled bra from cutting off his circulation, "That better not have been about my size, Tom." He said, turning towards where he thought his companion stood. But the younger man was nowhere in sight for him. He broadened his shoulders and walked towards the stage with both hands wrapped around his back as he found himself whistling to the tune of the band's song yet to come.

Four drunken men in the front let down their booze for the pretty brunette woman in the front stage nearest them. Their heads loped to the side of their shoulders, but they, even in spit of failing visions and slurring words, managed to start to clap and cheer her on, ignoring their sexist behavior.

"A female singer?" One of the drunkards asked a nearby buddy with blonde and graying hair sprouts.

The man shrugged, moving a bony finger towards the player and with his other arm, he used his finger to quiet the other fellow, "What's that have to do with it, Ma'am?" He asked, a dazed look in his eyes for his vision had been altered due to the odd amount of alcohol. The man shook his head, more sober than the graying man, but he hiccuped in response.

Tom rushed up in front of the lady singer and grabbed the old microphone from the stand where it lay. His voice had seemed quiet and hollow to the men and woman there, but they could still hear his words, "Ladies and gentlemen," After several years of running the pub along side of Loris, Tom had still insisted on being proper to thier guests, "I would like to introduce you to our very own musical talent tonight." He shut is eyes proudly, hoping desperately for some respectful applause. There was none when he opened his eyes and so he continued with a nervous gulp for air, "It is my honor," he continued, pointing directly towards his puffed out chest.

"Although it's not mine." From the back Loris mumbled quietly to himself, interrupting his partner in the business. He had not meant for the words to catch on the speakers, but hey had, sending them sky rocketing around the pub.

A few snickered, white the rest had been too drunk out of their minds to even hear it. Tom shoved his boss a rude look of sorrow for the girl and continued, mumbling under his breath to himself, "Now where the hell was I?" His gray eyes caught sight to the girl in back of him, hoisting up her guitar straps and exhaling breathlessly, "Oh yes," With this he hoisted up his glasses and began again, "EMBER MCCLAIN!"

There was no applaud or cheering, but the girl in black approached the microphone courageously as Tom and Loris jumped feet first off the high elevated stage together. Her eyes, hidden by the black shadow, now popped out brightly as she opened her eyes in a bright blink, "1...2...1...2...3..." She began, instructing her band the ready. It was at the three when the steady rock music began to start and she jumped about on stage as if it were her own concert.

From the back, Tom laughed mildly as his boss opened his mouth to speak. The younger business man had known his partner long enough to mimic his words before they were spoken, but he waited until the second man started to recite along with him, "She better be damn well good enough for this pub."

Loris took a double take on his partner and rubbed his head, "How'd you–" But he stopped as Tom started something new.

"Listen to then music, dammit." He chuckled, punching his boss in the lower arm. It was at this that sent off Loris' scowl, sending Tom rearing in the other corner.

Loris fiddled with his top hat, not noticing his mind humming with the young teenager as she sang her melody.

"It was, It was September." She cried, low into the microphone.

"It's December!" He called, but he was calmed by the heavy hand of his business partner who gave him a warning look.

"Loris Barker I swear..."

"Okay, Tom," The business man sighed, "I'll stop."

And Tom nodded, "After all, Mr. Barker, what else could go wrong even if the music isn't up to your taste."

As the boss opened his mouth, the room was shaken by the teenager's abrupt cry, "EMBER, YOU WILL REMEMBER! EMBER ONE THING REMAINS!"

"ARG! TOM!"

"Yes?"

"What is this trash about?"

For a second, the smaller man's brow furrowed, "I'm not quite sure." And they both remained silent, "Are we that old?" Tom chuckled after minutes of taken in the lyrics with nothing.

"I am, Tom." Loris replied, hunching over, pretending to be old. It was amusing and both men reeled their head back in laughter.

"You may be old, Loire," Tom chuckled still, using the nickname his old pal, Loris, despised, "But we can still run this God forsaken pub!"

It was another time for Tom's boss to laugh, "You got that right, Tom." He said, wiping a tear, his hairy and meaty hair catching the water that drooped silently from his eyes, "You remember when we opened this piece of—"

It had been just then when a horrifying yell ran through their tiny pub. It was from a drunken woman, who at the sound of her own scream, darted from her seat and hovered below her table, "FIRE!" She cried, pointing a rusting old finger towards the top of the stage. And there it was.

Burning in intense yellow, red, and orange, the flames made it's way, piece by piece, down the red curtains. Each contagious spark caught on to another and spread it's way, circling the singer, who's song abruptly stopped, "YOU WILL—"

Tom, who had been speaking with his boss and dear friend, reared from his spot rooted directly on the bar's flooring, "Everybody!" It had caught their attention no less than their musician.

Loris, hovering under a near table farthest away from any possible door, stood up on his toes and cupped his mouth, trying desperately to receive attention to the bar goers, "LISTEN UP." Nothing. Though, in a quick thought, for the chance to save his and every other one's lives, he called frantically, "FREE BEER!"

The heads in the pub turned abruptly towards the bar's manager.

"THERE. IS. A. FIRE." Tom called loudly, his mouth also cupped, "Get your asses out of the bar if you want to have another beer again!" It had seemed less motivation than free beers, but they obliged and headed terrified towards the front doors.

Once outside, Tom, the only sane living, counted the people that had escaped. His fingers shaking and his top hat still a little on fire, he called towards his friend in the business, "EVERYBODY'S OKAY!"

But Loris had paid no attention. Bringing both hands to his face, he tossed his head up in the air, letting loose his long red hair, "MY PUB! MY PUB! IT'S RUINED!"

"That is all you can think about?" Tom asked, puzzled. But he soon stared at the burnt down place he had started with his friend and the tears came, "I'm sorry, Loris." He said, removing his glasses from his head, fort he glass had begun to blur his vision. The bright colours of the flame caught his sight and he sank to his knees.

"You know, Tom, how much money?" He inhaled for more air and continued, "How much money we had the register there? And in the safe, Tom? Do you even know?"

But his friend didn't answer about the money, his eyes, through with darting about he burnt ashy ruins of the pub, flickered towards the living people. "At least everybody's out safely."

In the middle of the fire came a scream, too soundless for the other outside to hear. For Ember McClain had caught sight of her keyboard player on fire. He ran around her bickering to himself, trying to reach the flames off of him. His screams filled the singers ears as she backed away slowly, her thoughts endless.

"Maybe, if I back away quietly..." She thought, but she was cut off from the rest as she tripped over the ashy remains of her guitarist. Her scream held to her like the room and she suddenly felt the damned pain.

It had started on her hair, the long burnt pont tail that held the thick hair in which she so loved. She hadn't felt it until a spark, snickering as it fell from her locks, reached the hem of her boot and grew to the very top.

With her guitar, she swatted heavily at the flames, only to have the pink instrument catch fire along with her. It took a few minutes for the keyboard player to fal to his knees and his whole entire body to light up in the colours, the last moan of life sinking through the air.

It took Ember McClain a ful hour of tiring work for it finally to reach her who body. It had stung her painfully, cackling hard at it's last laugh to the singer's final performance. When the CSI of Amity Park found her, she was badly burnt and dead along with the two other members of her crew. For they had not know that the death of Ember McClain would not mark as her last performance...

...Not by a long shot...

Candeh- Read and Review!