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Challenge #01072-B340: Pursued Knowledge

Someone that can see, or at least somehow perceive, Lewis/the deadbeats and is determined to study them -- Gallifreya

A shot of the old haunted house. Then a mirror, in which someone was wearing a headcam.

"They've left the house," said the person. "This is my chance to investigate the phenomenon. I've been living in the neighbourhood and I've seen a few weird things. I know something else is in there. They never lock their doors so I'm going in."

The mirror vanished, and the view quickly went inside the house.

"Now. I'm being very careful not to do anything illegal while I'm here. I just want to observe and measure. And maybe make sure I'm not... well. You read my blog. You know what they say about me."

The camera picked up a fuzzy pinkish... thing down a hall. It looked like a giant finger puppet.

"There's one," whispered the investigator. "I'm going to try talking to it."

The fuzzy finger puppet appeared to solidify as they crept closer.

"Hello? Can I talk to you?"

It had a simple, cartoon of a face. Currently in a bemused expression. It sang, "Omomomo?"

"I'm just here to investigate, I promise. Why are you here?"

"Omomomomomo..."

"I'm sorry. I don't understand you." Desperate scribbling on a piece of paper. It had YES on one side and NO on the other. They faced it towards the figure. "Can you understand me?"

A voice said, "The Deadbeats are puppets," it was a voice that didn't use breath to speak. "If you want to talk to a ghost, look behind you."

The camera whirled to face a formal suit's chest. Panned up to face a floating skull with firey hair.

"'Sup?" said the ghost.

The camera view scrambled wildly through the house. Out the door. Over the fence. Down the street. Crashed into a stand of bushes.

"O god, o god, o god, o god... that was... that was... that was incredible. That was real? Omigod... I got that on camera. Tell me I got that on camera..."

And anyone who followed their blog, who saw that footage, would know that they would be coming back.

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