Jacob Farnsworth was one the best football player this campus has ever known. From a once-unknown university on the edges of the Pacific Northwest, his presence elevated it to new heights. He won the championships on a four-year streak. May have said that it was impossible. Their first win was made due to luck. But he bested their comments by winning in a series. His trophies are still in the hallway, and he always reminds himself to tell the janitor to clean them. It was his peak. It’s his contribution to the world. If only, he went upward from there.
Things went downhill right after college. Focusing on sports gave him less time to finish his studies properly. Even with additional credits due to his achievement in football, he barely passed his academics. He didn’t partake in any part-time jobs so his resume was empty. His only job was either as a cashier at his father’s store or returning to the campus as a coach. Becoming a cashier after winning four state championships is laughable. He can’t descend that low. He can’t—
And so, Jacob decided to accept the school’s offer in becoming one of its coaches. They promised him that they would get in contact with national football teams and hoped that they would get interested in Jacob’s capabilities. 20 years later and that promise was quickly forgotten by each succeeding administration of the campus. When he pressed for answers to the silence, they said that his accomplishments weren’t that exceptional. Sure, he won four state championships, but others have done the same. And they looked at his profile. His family has no wealth or power to their name. His only backer was the campus. And quite frankly, the campus is equally worthless. Right after Jacob’s absence, the campus faded into obscurity once more.
And so, 20 years later… Jacob has transitioned into a bitter old coach whose only joy in life is to scream at teenagers. God… what are they feeding these twerps these days. A large number of his students can barely run a lap without collapsing into a breathing mess. Although, he could say the same for himself. Without the strict exercise regimen during his college days, his abs became large mounds of fat. Especially so now that he lost himself to alcohol. He’s become a drunken mess so he could silence this nerve-breaking headache that is always ruining his day. His doctors call it chronic traumatic encephalopathy, and most veterans of football are reported to have the disease. Repeated concussions in the head are likely the cause.
Where did he go wrong?
Things don’t seem to improve. He’s stuck in a dead-end job, wasting away until his eventual death. His glory days are long gone. All were forgotten except for him. Sometimes, he’d find himself wandering the football field, reminiscing about the good old days. But upon one of his usual walks, he bumped into this weird old lady. She’s wrapped in these dirty old rags, and it smelled like the ground before the rain. With swift decaying fingers, she wrapped her hands on his wrist. Her dirt-caked claws dug into his skin. Thick red blood poured out. They came in drops then soon changed to red ribbons of blood. He tried to pull his arm but the lady has this supernatural strength that is quite evident in her grip. Despite the limited angle of movement by his arm due to fat, he tried to fight back by punching her square in the face. But as he did, the lady turned to dust. Her dirty clothes drifted in the air and disappeared into the night. His wounds were gone too. All that was left is the most painful headache Jacob has felt in his entire life. He tried to scream but no sound came out. But as soon as it came, it disappeared.
Then there is this idea, that soon became a thought, which Jacob quickly accepted as reality. This idea speaks of the new power that allows him to turn into a ghost. One thought was enough, and Jacob is flying through the air. He should be afraid but he’s not. This is the most freedom he has felt ever since winning those trophies. But his powers did not end there. He could also swoop inside someone’s body, and take control from within.
Who did he possess?
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