If one were to look at the gates of the graveyard that surrounded the Ghost Dormitories, one might think that they were observing a pile of shawls. Not just a pile of shawls, but a pile of shawls that seemed to be carrying a large alligator-skinned handbag.
On closer examination, one might see that there appeared to be a covering of some sort jutting out of the top. It was a tan scarf, wrapped around the neck of a headless ghost. Below that was a maroon shawl that was occasionally lifted to reveal lace gloves that wrung the handle of the alligator bag. The dress she wore looked like a hodge-podge of different quilts that had been thrown together in some semblance of "home" and "comfort". Alwine Van Brunt was going home. That is why she chose to wear it.
Amityville was her home, and it had been awhile.

~~~
The headless haunt was still reeling from the shipwreck, from the island. She thought she had seen Mandy. Had she? Was the scent of salt and FEAR that permeated her being just an illusion? Was the head that had started to sprout from her neck still there?
She was being led somewhere, no, practically carried. Her cloak had been thrown over her shoulders unfastened, and it dragged inelegantly on the floor behind her. Alwine looked over her shoulder to see her closet open a crack, and the hollow eyes of her beloved Sadako Doll stared at her retreating form. The ghostly doll continued to watch as her owner collapsed on the third stair, exhausted from that strange trip that had been interrupted-- or was everyone back already? There had just been wandering, so much wandering.
The doll closed the door to the closet.

~~~
"She's been mumbling about some 'Mandy' for the past hour or so. Think it means anything?" .... "I can't believe we had to take time from our busy schedule to get the wayward child." .... "... Surprised she even remembered her..." ...."Mother said that it was important for her to watch the races. ....Didn't want her to become a complete failure."


Fragments of conversations like that were floating through Alwine's consciousness. From their words, the haunt was able to deduce that she was in the company of her family. As such, she didn't want to regain her strength. She didn't want to be there... and why did they need her there?

The races were a Van Brunt tradition. Every two years the entire family would gather at the local Halloween Razetrack and ride their horses. There would also be events like pumpkin throwing and other sportly things common to haunts, headless haunts, and headless horsemen. Alwine was fairly certain that some poor undead schoolteacher was even selected to be the target of the pumpkin throwing.

Why would they need the forgettable middle child?

"Get out of bed. The opening party started an hour ago!" a high-pitched squeal stabbed Alwine's repose, and the haunt found herself forcefully pulled into a seated position.

Two headless beauties stood in front of her. The elder wore a fur-trimmed shawl and a pinstriped pencil skirt that ended in too many ruffles to be fathomable. She looked like a cross between a mafia boss and a Victorian dominatrix. Alwine didn't like either, to be honest, and so the cross made it all the worse. Alwine's younger sister was wearing something with so much lace that Lepus Angelique itself would cry. Oh, and to top it all off-- it was pink. The youngestwas rebellious like that. Pink had always given Alwine the willies.

"You look confused," said the elder. "Doesn't surprise me, you always were a little empty-spirited."

"It doesn't help that she was at that awful school," added the younger. "They probably filled her with stupid ideas and forced out all her manners."

Alwine didn't say anything. All she could remember was the beach, and that fog. Was Mandy okay?

"Should we let her get dressed up?"
"Don't bother, no-one will notice..."

She could barely hear them as they led her outside to the main festivities. It was a blur of fine horses and fine clothes. There was laughter, music, and drinks that were somehow able to be consumed without need of a mouth. So Alwine drank, and curtsied, and was pushed and shoved along by the two sisters that had bothered to observe her presence. She even danced with a few headless gentlemen, though none of them really noticed her. Don't ask her how she could be a dancing partner and not be noticed at the same time, but it was possible here.

'Mandy would look nice in a tuxedo like this...' Alwine's mind started to wander. 'I'm certain that Barth would. Perhaps Collette would like to wear one, too, if it had nice heels...'

Clearly, Alwine still was not well. It was in this state that the middle-haunt found herself shoved forward towards a rather portly matron. Her neck was long and encased in velvet, clasped by an ivory cameo that had been carved into a ghastly pumpkin.

"The poor thing is so vapid," she said. "It must be that school's doing. Amityville Academy knows nothing of teaching proper young women." She reached out and tapped Alwine on the shoulder with her cane. "Alwine. Do you desire to have an education?"

Education. Education meant Amityville. Amityville meant her friends, her classes. She had to learn the cello still, and she had to find her friends again. So, she managed to feebly tilt her upper body in an affirmative motion.

"Good. You will come to my manor immediately after the races. I will instill in you a true education, and teach you how to mingle with even the most posh of demons. Perhaps we can make something of you after all."

~~~
The memories of the crooked manor would have to be saved for another day. Students were starting to mill about, and the sound of fauna crowing in the distance signaled the beginning of a morning at Amityville Academy.

With the alligator purse clutched in her gloved hands, Alwine made way for the mausoleum doors.