Containment File #047 – “The Widowmaker”
Containment File #047 – “The Widowmaker”
Also Known As: Lady in Mourning, The Black Bride, She Who Waits
Class: V Full-Torso Apparition
Origin: Greco-Roman adaptation of the Empusa myth, filtered through Victorian urban legends.
Description:
The Widowmaker is a Class V full-torso apparition rooted in ancient Empusa mythology, twisted into a maritime predator that haunts single women marked by heartbreak or betrayal. Draped in a perpetually waterlogged Victorian mourning gown and veil, she drifts as if suspended in deep water, leaving damp footprints and mirrors “crying” saltwater in her wake. Her whispers—spoken in a haunting blend of Ancient Greek and Latin—erode her victims’ trust, sanity, and will to resist. Captured in 1997 after a prolonged standoff in a Boston boarding house, she now resides in the Ecto Containment Unit’s Drowned Quarter, a flooded ghost-town sector of the pocket dimension shaped by her own psychic influence. Manipulative, patient, and drawn to the vulnerable, the Widowmaker remains a high-interaction, moderate-risk entity with a power ratio of 7.2, demanding constant vigilance to ensure she stays behind the mirror.
Physical Description:
A full-torso spectral apparition of a tall, emaciated Victorian woman, her entire form drifting as though suspended underwater. She wears a heavy black mourning gown from the late 19th century, the fabric perpetually soaked, clinging to her skeletal frame in some places while ballooning and rippling outward in slow, ghostly waves in others. The gown’s hem frays into tattered streamers that float and curl in unseen currents, each drop of water falling from it vanishing before touching the ground. A long, black lace veil is pulled over her face, plastered to her features by the constant sheen of saltwater. The veil is embroidered with faint silver mourning motifs—urns, broken columns, lilies—that shimmer faintly but distort into screaming faces when glimpsed from certain angles.
Her hair is long, thick, and black, tangled with strands of dark seaweed, and perpetually wet, clinging to her cheeks and shoulders before drifting free in languid motion. Her skin is pallid and corpse-pale, with a faint bluish tint, stretched thin over sharp cheekbones. Beneath the veil, her lips are parted slightly, and a slow trickle of briny water drips from the corners of her mouth. Occasionally, small black eels slither from her lips or between her teeth before vanishing into the folds of her gown.
Her eyes glow faintly gold beneath the veil—soft at first, like candlelight glimpsed in fog, but burning brighter when she focuses on a target. The glow reflects dimly off the veil’s damp threads, giving her face a shifting, distorted outline. Her hands are bony and elongated, the skin wrinkled and waterlogged like that of a drowned corpse. Droplets of saltwater fall constantly from her fingertips, leaving faint ripples where they touch reflective surfaces.
She moves without touching the ground, her steps leaving behind perfectly dry floors marred only by damp, human-shaped footprints that appear a heartbeat after she has passed. A faint halo of mist and drifting saltwater vapor surrounds her at all times, carrying the smell of brine and decaying kelp. The air temperature around her drops sharply, and light sources nearby flicker, casting her shifting silhouette across walls and mirrors. Behind her, any reflective surface—be it glass, water, or polished metal—briefly shows her looming closer than she physically is, as if her reflection is trying to escape before she can.
The overall atmosphere is cold, oppressive, and hypnotic, a blend of predatory patience and unending grief, as though she has been walking the ocean floor for centuries and has finally found her way back to the surface to hunt.
Containment File #063 – “The Flush Phantom”
Containment File #063 – “The Flush Phantom”
Also Known As: The Porcelain Poltergeist, Lavatory Lurker, Sir Swirls-a-Lot
Class: III–IV Free-Roaming Vapor (escalates to Class V during possession events)
Power Ratio: 4.8
Description:
The Flush Phantom is a mischievous yet deeply unsettling spirit that manifests exclusively in bathrooms, striking when its victims are at their most vulnerable—specifically while seated on the toilet. Its presence is often preceded by subtle environmental cues: a sudden shift in air pressure, the faint smell of stagnant water, and the quiet drip-drip-drip of liquid echoing from nowhere in particular. Appearing as a damp, half-translucent figure, it has an unnatural, waterlogged pallor to its stretched skin, with elongated limbs that bend at slightly wrong angles, giving its movements a loping, amphibious quality.
Its eyes are deep, sunken hollows glowing faintly with a sickly green-blue light, the kind seen in deep ocean bioluminescence, and its mouth hangs partially open in a constant drip, releasing thick, brackish water onto the floor. From this mouth come distorted, echoing giggles or guttural gargles, the sound traveling unnaturally through pipes and drains to reach its target. Victims often report the sense that the laughter is not only mocking but aware—timed perfectly to interrupt their concentration.
When fully manifesting, the Flush Phantom emerges from plumbing fixtures in a churning combination of scalding steam and icy mist, its form constantly shifting as though caught between liquid and vapor. It can partially rise from toilets, sinks, and bathtubs, the rest of its body still anchored somewhere deep within the building’s pipe system. The apparition’s damp, skeletal fingers—overlong and ending in cracked, blackened nails—scratch lazily along stall dividers or tap against porcelain, sending jolts of discomfort through its victims.
Despite its comedic potential in less terrifying circumstances, the Flush Phantom’s sudden materializations, invasive proximity, and mastery over enclosed, inescapable spaces make it one of the more psychologically disturbing bathroom-haunting entities in the Ghostbusters’ catalog.
Physical Description:
The Flush Phantom is a damp, half-translucent spectral entity with a warped humanoid frame, its skin a mottled mix of pale gray, bluish undertones, and sickly green, all textured like waterlogged flesh that’s been submerged for days. Its limbs are abnormally long and thin, joints bending with a faint, unnatural flex—slightly too far, as though the bones inside are softened or rubbery from prolonged immersion. The hands are skeletal and bony, fingers extended to unnatural lengths with cracked, blackened nails that curve like rusted hooks. Beads of brackish water constantly drip from the fingertips, hitting the tile below with an audible plink.
Its torso is gaunt, ribs visible beneath its tight, semi-transparent skin, with patches of darker translucency showing faint outlines of pipe-like tendrils running beneath the surface—echoes of its deep connection to plumbing. The neck is overly long, bending slightly as if straining forward to sniff or leer at its victim.
The face is disturbingly stretched, with deep, hollow eye sockets glowing faintly with a cold, bluish-green bioluminescence reminiscent of deep-sea creatures. When the mouth opens, it gapes far too wide, revealing jagged, uneven teeth coated in black sludge, with thick, murky water constantly dribbling down its chin. The mouth is the source of its signature sounds—distorted giggles, bubbling gargles, and sudden, loud splashes—that seem to echo unnaturally inside small rooms.
Its entire body glistens as if freshly pulled from a sewer, the surface wet and slimy, reflecting light in glossy highlights that slide along its contours. Steam or mist curls around it unpredictably—sometimes hot and foggy, sometimes cold and rolling low across the floor—carrying with it the overpowering stench of stagnant water, mildew, and metal.
When manifesting fully, the Flush Phantom often appears half-emerged from a plumbing fixture—its legs still tapering away into an amorphous tail of swirling water and shadow, as though the rest of its form is still somewhere deep in the pipes. Its presence transforms the bathroom’s atmosphere: stall doors vibrate faintly, mirrors fog over from inside the glass, and water in toilets or sinks ripples in rhythm with its movements, even when it’s perfectly still.
Containment File #527 – “The Siren of Blackwell Cove”
Containment File #527 – “The Siren of Blackwell Cove”
Also Known As: The Voice in the Waves, The Harrowed Songstress, Blackwell’s Bride
Class: VI Full-Torso Apparition
Power Ratio: 8.4
Description:
The Siren of Blackwell Cove manifests as a striking, ghostly woman from the waist up, her lower body fading into a coiling mass of mist, seawater, and spectral feathers. She radiates an almost hypnotic beauty, but her features shift subtly — one moment alluring, the next revealing a gaunt, predatory visage. Her skin glistens as if perpetually wet, hair drifting as if underwater, and eyes shimmering with bioluminescent blue light. When agitated, her hands elongate into talons tipped with corroded, salt-crusted claws.
Physical Description:
The Siren’s form is an unsettling fusion of ethereal beauty and predatory menace, her appearance constantly shifting in subtle, disarming ways that make it hard to tell where allure ends and danger begins.
Face & Expression:
Her face is heart-shaped, with high cheekbones and smooth, porcelain-pale skin that glistens faintly as if dampened by sea spray. A faint shimmer, like the sheen of wet shells, catches the light along her jawline and temples. Her lips are full and coral-tinted, but often curl into an ambiguous smile — one that can turn to a predatory sneer in an instant. When she shifts into her hunting visage, her mouth widens slightly beyond human proportions, revealing sharp, pearl-white teeth that glint faintly with brine.
Her eyes are the most hypnotic feature — large and almond-shaped, glowing with a bioluminescent blue that pulses softly, like the steady glow of deep-sea lifeforms. In dim light, the pupils appear to swirl faintly, creating a mesmerizing effect that draws the viewer in before they realize it’s impossible to look away.
Hair:
Her hair is impossibly long, a waterfall of dark strands with subtle iridescent undertones — hints of midnight blue, sea green, and even violet visible when caught by light. It constantly moves as though suspended underwater, drifting and curling around her shoulders and face, regardless of wind conditions. Strands often cling to her neck and collarbone, dripping seawater in slow, deliberate drops.
Torso & Upper Body:
From the waist up, she is lithe and statuesque, her shoulders straight and posture regal, reminiscent of a figurehead carved into a ship’s bow. Her skin has the faint, shifting texture of wet satin, glistening with moisture, and along her forearms and ribcage, faint lines of shimmering scales appear when the light hits at the right angle — almost invisible unless actively sought.
Her hands are long and elegant, with tapered fingers and smooth nails that can elongate into talon-like claws when she strikes. In her more dangerous state, these claws appear tipped with barnacle-like calcification and sea corrosion.
Lower Body & Appendages:
When grounded, her form fades into a swirling, semi-corporeal mass of mist, dark seawater, and spectral feathers. In full manifestation, she reveals a pair of massive, black-feathered wings, each feather damp and glossy as though freshly pulled from a storm. The wings are powerful and ragged at the tips, water droplets flying from them in arcs when they beat.
In her most ancient form, she can replace her lower body with a serpentine mass of spectral water and feathers, coiling and lashing out to ensnare prey. This transition is often accompanied by a sudden drop in temperature and the scent of salt and decay.
Clothing & Adornments:
She wears remnants of a 1700s shipboard wedding dress — the bodice tightly fitted, with delicate, waterlogged lace sleeves that cling to her arms. The once-white fabric has yellowed and darkened, mottled with seawater stains, and flows seamlessly into the mist and feathers of her lower half. Here and there, strands of kelp and small seashells are tangled in the folds of her gown, clinging to her as if carried by the current.
Voice & Aura:
Her voice is as much a part of her physical presence as her body. When she sings, her throat vibrates with a deep, resonant hum that can be felt in the chest, layered with harmonics that seem to come from all around the listener. The air around her is cool and damp, and faint motes of glowing plankton-like light drift in her wake. Her scent is a blend of ocean brine, storm wind, and faint blooming night jasmine — a lure in its own right.
Containment File #247 – “The Boogieman”
Containment File #247 – “The Boogieman”
Also Known As: The Bogeyman, Fear Incarnate, The Closet Stalker
Class: VII Repeating Corporeal Entity (Not a ghost — solid, fear-fed creature)
Date of Capture: November 2, 1991
Power Ratio: 9.0 (extremely high due to fear absorption and reality alteration)
Description:
The Boogieman is a grotesque, anthropomorphic entity whose form fuses the worst aspects of human and animal anatomy into a living embodiment of childhood terror. Standing well over two meters tall, his lanky, disproportionate frame moves with an unnatural, loping gait that seems part marionette, part predatory stalk. His pallid skin is mottled in places with thin patches of wiry, off-white fur that catches light like cobwebs, giving him an aged and unkempt appearance. The fur thickens along his forearms, shoulders, and down the backs of his legs, adding to his unsettling, half-feral silhouette.
Physical Description:
His head is unnaturally large for his frame, giving the impression of being top-heavy yet never impeding his movements. Two elongated, sharply pointed goat-like ears jut outward at odd angles, twitching and angling toward even the faintest sounds, as though constantly seeking a child’s whimper in the dark. His eyes are oversized and almond-shaped, glowing a sickly yellow that seems to pierce through shadows. They are set beneath a chaotic mane of spiky, electric-blue hair that bristles and shifts as though moved by an unseen current.
The mouth is perhaps his most disturbing feature — a wide, twisted grin stretched far beyond normal human proportions, lined with jagged, uneven teeth the color of aged bone. When he smiles, the corners of his mouth pull back into an expression that is equal parts mockery and hunger, revealing a faint dark-red gleam from within his throat, as though lit from some malevolent fire inside.
From the waist down, his anatomy transitions into that of a cloven-hoofed ungulate. His legs bend backward at the knee like a goat’s, ending in broad, cracked hooves that strike the ground with a dull, resonant thock with each step. Despite their size, these hooves allow him to move with surprising silence when stalking his prey — though he often chooses to exaggerate the sound when he wants to intimidate.
He dresses in a manner that is almost theatrical in its absurdity, as if mocking the idea of civility. A dark, weathered tailcoat clings to his upper body, its lapels frayed and uneven, and a garish purple bowtie sits crookedly at his throat. The effect is unsettling: a formal evening guest who stepped straight out of a nightmare. His clothing is never wet, torn, or stained in a way that suggests recent violence; instead, it is as if the garments themselves are part of him, an immutable costume worn for every encounter.
When the Boogieman moves, his entire body language radiates predatory playfulness. He sways from side to side like a pendulum before closing in, crouches low before lunging, and often tilts his head at unnatural angles to study his target. His voice is a rasping baritone capable of sudden shifts into childlike mimicry, a talent he uses to draw his victims closer before revealing his true form in the blink of an eye.
