The Ghostwriter (Part 2)

This is part two of three of the story where 19th-century Romantic poet, Percy Shelley’s Spirit has taken possession of wannabe poet, Carolyn. She’s new to love, naive, and all may not be as it seems. I suggest you start with part one before reading this one. Big hugs to those following along on this different writing from me. Special thanks to talented authors, TheShyThespian and MojaveJoe420, for offering some edits on a few shared scenes.

The heat escalating between my thighs woke me. “Percy?”


Yes, my love. 

Mmmm. Please don’t stop what you’re doing to me.” I spread my legs wider while knowing he had access regardless.

I’m starving, Carolyn! Feed me your sexual energy!

I lay in bed growing hotter by the minute, kicking the sheets off my perspiring body. He was arousing all my most sensitive parts at once, driving me towards that glorious edge I had come to know only a short time ago. My climax was fast approaching and my ache was deep. He often awakened me to a quick release and I would never tire of these electrifying sensations. Arching my back, I creamed in the darkness. So good! Coupling with him felt SO GOOD!

It had been close to a month since Percy revealed himself to me. A month of utter bliss as he showed me love as I’d never known before. I did love him and I’ll never forget that night when he said he loved me too. Our lovemaking wasn’t typical since I was unable to physically touch him. I couldn’t, however, imagine anything more pleasurable than what I’d been experiencing. His Spirit lived within me; he possessed the ability to make me feel whatever he wanted me to feel. I came to realise how vacant my life had been before him. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that empty hole inside me would be filled in this peculiar manner.

I pulled up the covers and basked in his presence. We usually talked after making love. Those were some of our best talks, actually. He enlightened me with his philosophies of life, having experienced far more than me. I was a sponge, absorbing it all as fast as I could. 

“Why me?” I asked him, having wondered since he joined with me that day in the graveyard. “Why did you choose me?”

Why you? Carolyn, it had to be you!

His voice stopped and my lips tingled from his sweet kisses. He continued, You are a new soul, not yet tarnished by this world, unencumbered by the teachings of the ignorant. 

“And you want to teach me?”

Yes, there are so many things I will teach you, Carolyn. You must carry on where I left off – show this world how things should be.

I had another question nagging at me, though. This seemed like an appropriate time to interject it, but I feared I might insult him. Curiosity made me ask anyway. “Percy … should you not be in Heaven?”

He didn’t readily answer me and I instantly regretted asking. Oh, please don’t let him find my question offensive.

God and I do not see eye to eye, he finally voiced with a gruffness I hadn’t heard before.

Suddenly, I felt ill, unidentified discomfort in my stomach. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Percy, my stomach-“

I believe organised religion to be the worst form of hypocrisy. It seeks to oppress. And I will say no more on the matter.

As quickly as it came, the waves of nausea left me. No doubt, I had angered him. Wanting to shake this uncomfortable feeling between us, I changed the subject. “Do you want to know why I was at your family gravesite, Percy?”

You told me you wanted to be like me.

“That’s true, but there’s more to it.” 

Tell me.

“My professor told me to do something that scared me … and graveyards scared me.” 

There’s more. You’re holding back from me, Carolyn. I sense your hesitation.

Dare I say it out loud? I knew I must. If I couldn’t tell my beloved, Percy, then who could I tell.

“I refused to go to my mother’s burial.” Tears clouded my eyes as I thought back to that dreadful day. “My father needed me and I wasn’t there for him. I’ve never seen her headstone, brought her flowers,” my voice retreated to a whisper, “or said goodbye.”

My dearest Carolyn … fear and regret eat away at one’s soul. You must right this wrong.”

“I can’t. Don’t you understand? I can’t go back in time.”

You can visit your mother now. Take me to her grave. 


I drove to the cemetery and parked. Percy and I hadn’t talked on the drive. Despite my reservations, I didn’t want to risk upsetting him again, so I readily obeyed him when he told me to take him to her grave.

I had to admit, it was easier this time to set foot on the gravesite, despite the nightfall. As luck would have it, a storm was rolling in too. There was a full moon. All the elements were in place for a terrifying visit to a cemetery, but for some reason, I was not afraid. Maybe it was knowing I wasn’t alone. I cautiously walked around in the darkness with my torch highlighting each tombstone I passed. Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to find Mother. Wow, Father had obviously splurged on the headstone, noticeably larger than those around her. I was somewhat surprised as he had always been a frugal man.

Seeing her name unnerved me a bit, as if it made her death more final somehow. I tugged my coat tighter around me to keep out the sudden chill. Fear settled upon me.


I’m here, my darling.

He instilled the courage within me to bend down and read the smaller inscriptions. My name was listed as her daughter – her daughter who didn’t even come to her burial. The wilted heads of flowers hung towards the ground as if mourning her. I frowned, thinking I should have had the foresight to bring fresh flowers for her grave. 

What do you feel, Carolyn? Open your heart to this experience. 

I ran my fingers over the smooth granite, tracing the letters of her name, much in the same way I had traced Percy’s name on the Shelley family vault. Her face appeared inside my mind … and she was smiling at me. 

“I feel … I feel sad, of course. But, strangely peaceful too. Why is that?”

You have faced a demon. One always finds peace when a weight has been lifted. Let me tell you a story about my wife, Mary.

“I would love for you to share with me, Percy.” I always grew excited when he shared bits of his past with me.

Sadly, her mother died shortly after giving birth to her and Mary struggled to reconcile with feeling responsible. She eventually found solace, of all places, at her mother’s gravesite. Many hours were spent sitting by her tombstone, reading, and writing. It became her secret hideaway from the world.

“That’s incredible, Percy.” I had read about her and some of the unpleasant things she encountered during her lifetime but didn’t know about her mother. “Did she ever take you to her grave?”

She did. We revealed our love for one another and I took her maidenhood on her mother’s grave. A very deep connection was forged between us that night. Despite obstacles, we vowed to be together. 

My body flushed with his intimate reveal. There was just something so … so eerily erotic about his story. 

You are aroused, Carolyn.

I blushed, not knowing how to respond. At times his ability to sense my feelings was quite embarrassing.

Your energy has aroused me as well. 

With those words, he embraced me in the only way he could. The wind had picked up, scattering the leaves, yet my body became warm. My skin tingled around my neck. He knew how sensitive my neck was. “Percy, I need you.”

Bend over her headstone, Carolyn.

What he suggested was wildly inappropriate. Here? On Mother’s grave? Yet, I wanted it. Wanted him. So, I stepped forward and bent over the slick stone, raising my skirt over my bottom. That wasn’t necessary, of course, but I wanted to feel the cool air caressing my warming thighs. He’s taught me how to embrace all my senses. 

“Percy!” I screamed into the night as he took me swiftly. Head-to-toe nerve endings fired. I clawed at the stone.

Give yourself to me!

I freed all inhibitions, lost my modesty. Every muscle quivered as he made love to me, warming my outsides and insides simultaneously. He dragged out my pleasure, edging me until I begged for my orgasm. By the time it came, my voice was hoarse from screaming. 

When it was over, I lay down on the dirt with my hand touching Mother’s headstone. My communion with Percy … almost palpable. He whispered in my ear, telling me he loved me. Sometimes in my lonely life, I had wished Heaven to whisk me up to its golden gates, but no longer. 


The power to compose poetry arises from within, like the colour of a flower which fades and changes as it develops.

It was phrases such as those which stole my heart. Percy’s intelligence and masterful use of language challenged me every day. No longer living as a hermit with my nose stuck in books, I explored the outside world … with Percy. He was especially fond of the water. He was surprised I had never learned to swim and as such, I wasn’t fond of boating. Consequently, he had to settle for walks along the harbour with me. On one such outing, he chose to talk about his tragic death.

I failed to respect nature, Carolyn. Arrogance stole my life as I thought I, a mere mortal, could outrun the awe-inspiring storm. Nature showed me no forgiveness for my grievous error.

Did it hurt?”


“Yes. I had always imagined drowning to be particularly horrific.”

As waves plunged me to the depths and oxygen left my body, it was as if my chest had burst into flames. You see, however, my love for the water has not waned, even in death. It simply humbled me to its power.

“I am happy you found a way to be with me now, Percy.”

Carolyn, your gentle mind and innocence has made me feel alive again.

I sat down on a bench so we could watch the boats in the harbour. Percy had other ideas. This time he took his time with me, awakening each part of my body in turn before igniting the fire between my legs. My panties grew wet and I slid my bottom down so as to not leave a wet spot on the bench. Fortunately, no others were near and I closed my eyes. A welcome breeze off the water cooled my heated flesh. I bit my lip to where I tasted blood, trying to stifle my scream when I came. 

My sweet, sweet, Carolyn.

“I love you, Percy.”

I love you, Carolyn.

We spent the next hour in silence, taking in the beautiful day, watching the boats dock in the distance. Feeling inspired, I opened my notebook and began to write, reading aloud each stanza.

Stop. You must not say something is ‘beautiful’, Carolyn. Tell the readers what beauty smells like, tastes like. Use all your senses in poetry. 

With each instruction, I ripped my paper and began again. Percy told me when my work was good enough and I didn’t stop until I heard those words from him. 

I had spent an enlightening holiday break with Percy, but life called again and it was time to return to classes at uni. Professor Wentworth had given us writing assignments over our break and with Percy’s guidance, I think what I wrote far excelled anything I’d ever attempted before. My professor had been quite critical of me before the break and I hoped he would recognize improvement in my poetry. Sometimes I had to pinch my arm to remind myself this was real – the accomplished poet, Percy Shelley, was with me in Spirit, guiding me, teaching me, loving me. 

On the first day due back at class, I stood pacing outside the classroom, waiting until the last second to walk through the door. Professor Wentworth intimidated me and I didn’t like my newfound confidence faltering. That day, we were scheduled to read our poetry aloud to the class. 

Show them who you are, Carolyn. Make them feel, Percy encouraged.

“I … I don’t know…”

Your words have no meaning to those listening unless you read them with powerful emotion, Carolyn.

I took a deep breath and walked through the door and took my seat. Professor Wentworth welcomed us back and then set about with the poetry readings. Unable to contain my building nervousness, I fidgeted in my seat. As I watched my classmates read their poems in turn, my ears heard nothing. I was reciting my own writing in my head. 


Hearing my name snapped me back to attention. Shockingly, I felt my nipples spring to life. No, Percy, not here! The intimate space between my legs ached to where I tightly crossed my legs.

“Carolyn, it’s your turn,” Professor Wentworth repeated. 

Read with the passion I have awakened! Make them understand!

I unfolded my legs and approached the front of the classroom. Uncomfortable with the eyes upon me, I kept my eyes focused on my paper. With a soft voice, I began to read. 

Upon reaching an especially intimate wording, my clit ignited, causing my voice to stutter. Percy, stop! He increased the pressure as I failed miserably in maintaining my composure. I gasped in between a few stanzas. As my arousal reached new heights, my reading pace quickened, as luck would have it appropriately with the writing. 

At one point, I peered down to witness my blushing breasts and hoped my cheeks didn’t match. When my reading was finished, I glanced over at Professor Wentworth. His opinion was the only one I truly cared about. 

His eyes studied me for a few moments. Then, he clapped his hands – slowly, yet with heart. 

“Bravo, Miss Carolyn. Bravo.”

No doubt, my rosy cheeks flushed a deeper red from his compliment. I walked back to my desk, keenly aware of my fellow classmates’ eyes upon me.

Once seated, the boy behind me leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “That was bloody brilliant.”

I whispered, “Thank you,” without turning around. Still aching in my most private spaces, my thoughts turned to the clock and I begged its hands to turn faster. I was most desperate for release. 

Soon, my love. Soon. You performed quite well.

After class, I felt a hand upon my shoulder in the hallway. “Carolyn…”

I turned around to see Edward standing behind me. “Yes?” I tentatively asked. No other classmate had chosen to speak to me before.

“I meant what I said. Your poetry was most impressive – it moved me.”

“Thank you.” I felt my cheeks warm. Edward was very handsome. I had noticed him before but didn’t dare speak to him.

“I was wondering … would you maybe like to get a bite to eat sometime after class?”

“Umm, yes, that would be nice.” I tried to smile naturally but feared my shyness made it awkward.

“How about next week?” His voice was steady with confidence, but he bit his lower lip. Maybe he was a little shy too. 

“Sure.” I nodded my head, then turned and briskly walked away with my head swooning. 

I drove back to my flat in silence, trying to absorb what just happened, and also wondering what Percy was thinking about the whole thing.

He sexually excited you, was the first statement he made once we were inside my flat.

“He did not.” I grew instantly defensive. 

I felt your arousal when he touched you. Do you want to make love with him?

“No, I do not.”

Why not?

“Do you want me to?” I wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was leading. 

If you wish it, yes. 

“I’m not going to have sex with some guy I just met. I’ve waited this long and may as well just wait until I have a husband.”

No! You should explore your feelings, make love. I have not yet taken your virginity. Only a physical form can break through that barrier. 

A tiny voice in my head was relieved I was still technically a virgin. Closing my eyes, I visualized his face. His words didn’t sound like the Percy I thought I knew. “I thought you loved me. But, you want me to be with another man? How can that be?”

My feelings were hurt. If you loved someone, how could you stand to see that person making love to another? Would he love another besides me?

Love is not confined to one person. We can love many in our lifetime and should explore those loves to their fullest.

“But, I don’t want to sex it up with a bunch of different guys. I want it to be special. I’ve always wanted to save myself for one love.

Surely, you do not think of marrying one man?

I do. That has always been my dream.” It was before I met Percy, anyway. Since then, the waters had become muddied in that regard. 

I forbid it!

“You forbid what?” 

I forbid the ridiculous institution of marriage for you!

“Percy, you were married not once, but twice!”

And both were monumental errors in thinking!

Once again, waves of nausea hit me. This time I collapsed back on the couch, head between my knees, stomach stabbed with pain. 

“Percy, it hurts…” I whimpered.

Do not argue with me, Carolyn. You are making me do this.

Do what? I panicked, doubled over in agony. Was he making me ill? Before I could think more about it, the discomfort eased and I felt well again. Alarm bells rang in my head, but I pushed them to the far corners of my mind, not wanting to think the first man I had ever loved could be purposefully hurting me. My heart rejected that possibility. Percy loved me!

We kept to ourselves as much as we could that night and some sense of normalcy returned the rest of the week – if you can call a Spirit possessing your body normal. Unfortunately, it would prove to be a short-lived reprieve from our fighting. It had become disturbingly clear Percy could not only ignite my body with pleasure but twist it with pain as well.

To be continued…

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Updated: August 23, 2021 — 3:47 pm
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