As night hung over the town the fire that had been the gallows burned on, churning up black smoke. The strange figure throwing blazers into the flames didn't help, it merely fed to their fury. But every master needs to feed its pet and Fabi the fire wraith was no acception. Eventually a mass of socks followed the blazers, igniting almost instantly, joining the dance.
As the ghosts and wraiths wandered the town one individual was breaking into another's kitchen. Slowly creeping up the stairs and praying their stomach wouldn't give them away they pushed open the bedroom door.
"Oh my John I can't believe someone has stolen my socks! Like seriously! When I find them I will kill them dead! No one in the history of torture has been tortured with torture like they'll be tortured with! Why do I even live in a place where people have access to my socks and can steal them?? Like I swear my stuff exists to inevitable disappear! No matter what choices I make, whatever details I alter, I will always end up here! This is why I can't have noice things! Honestly though, out of all the days to steal all my socks, why the day when I had just bought Supernatural ones?? No but really! There is probably a special place in hell devoted to those who steal socks! And if there is not, I am willing to pressure someone into selling their soul to make this happen because stealing socks is a crime! You know who steals socks? Stealers! You know who steals super-duper Supernatural socks? Super-duper mean stealers"
The figure watched their next victim with slight amusement, however it was dimmed by the rumbling of their stomach. Luckily the ranting girl's voice drowned out the noise.
"I feel a bit bad now for all this yelling but honestly. So mad. So done with life. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing. Not looking forward to when I stop being mad though because then I'll be upset. But honestly, it is completely and utterly out of bloody order. I swear there should be a rule against stealing socks like there's rules about bringing people back to life and unsinking the Titanic. You might think that having your socks stolen is minor, but you know what? There is probably a whole graveyard of people out there who died from losing their lucy rabbit's foot and subsequently dying from lack of socks. In all honesty I bet Dean died from lack of socks on a Tuesday one time. Like you could get blisters and then they could get infected and you could need your foot amputated but then it could go wrong and you could easily die there.Or I don't know you could trip because your shoes were too big and fall over and get your foot caught and get run over or whatever. That could happen on a tuesday when you lost your luck rabbit's foot. And I mean if a person loses their socks do you think they have full control over their actions. I've lost my socks.. I'll have to start looking for them. I'll figure this out, it's not like they're at the bottom of the deepest ocean. Okay to be honest they're probably gone forever because whoever has the skillz to steal super-duper Supernatural socks has, like, skillz. They were bloody expensive as well! Like bloody hell! Who even-"
"Shhhhh." A knife was pressed against Star the twin's throat. "Don't call your twin, they can't help you anyway."
"No! I don't want to join Dean and Death! I can't interrupt their bromance! I mean I know that people die every day and interrupt the bromance which, you know, rude, but I don't want to interrupt them and it isn't my time yet and oh my John I think I'm having a panic attack I can't breathe help!!!"
The murderer frowned at the hyperventilating woman in their arms. Her face was starting to match the blue walls. Quickly they decided to put an end to the panic, and slit the poor girls throat, holding them until they went cold and numb.
"Right! Food!" They jogged down to the kitchen, turning the light on and smiling at the cool blue hues. Opening the fridge it was rather empty, but they could still stop what little there was from going to waste. After fixing themselves up a snack they slipped out into the night, returning home.
Back in their own beds everyone could have sworn that the dear departed ghost mother Snow came to their rooms, tucking them in as they slipped into unconsciousness and leaving a ghost cookie by their bedside tables.
The dead also had a visit from their loving mother, one in which they were hugged and gifted with a small rubber ducky.
The next morning a twin awoke to their sisters corpse and their cries could be hear throughout the town. In full navy blue mourning clothes they trudged to the centre of town.
Meanwhile one resident of the town slipped on her shoes, crying out as something sticky touched her foot. Reaching into her shoe she found within a sticky bit of fake dog poo. With a roll of her eyes she removed the fake poo and tugged the shoes back on then went to join the crowds.
It is day again! There are four people left and so majority vote is three people. Night time starts on Monday the 5th at 8pm GMT. Enjoy your talking guys! Good luck!