No, looking down and assessing my suspenders and brown slacks, I knew I was stuck in my human form. A train ticket trembled in my hand, the name one I hadn’t seen in hundreds of years. Not only that, but worse. I was trapped not as Dr. Ames Cove, the hell-riding, leather-jacket and skull-face wearing therapist and serial killer. No, this body, these clothes, this time period was one I recalled vividly, but only in my nightmares. I wasn’t Ghost or Ames or the leader of the Halloween Boys in this train car. The ticket in my hand screeched the name of someone who died a long time ago. An aspiring
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