Task 1 - revised version

As the weary traveller crossed the rickety bridge, he paused. Beneath him, the bridge creaked and whistled in the wind. "Come out," he called into the foggy night, as he leant against the wooden railing. "Do not be afraid," he said in a quieter voice. "Even ghosts need to talk, Jerome. Far more than people think."

Gone was the sound of the wind as the bridge seemed to sigh and groan of its own accord. Having expected this, the traveller did nothing.

"I don't suppose you have a light?" Jerome's voice sounded in the darkness and the traveller turned around to see his ethereal form coalesce into a man as old as himself. "Keeps the old ectoplasm going, eh Magnus?" Looking upon the ghost with fondness, Magnus chuckled.

"My dear fellow, you look well." Noting the general shabbiness of the living man's attire, Jerome raised a single, bushy eyebrow.

"Of course I look well - I died in finery. Perhaps you ought to follow suit."

"Quite - except I have neither the longing to die nor the money for fine clothes." Recognising the signs of affront, Jerome backed off.

"Sorry old chap - I forget myself in my death. Tell me, do you see Isabelle anymore?" Magnus answered after a pause, understanding the dead man's tactful subject change as a peace offering.

"Very little, I'm afraid - she is still bound to the cemetery. When she is free, she has yet to disclose."

"Xavier might know," Jerome mused. "You know where he is?"

"Zanzibar - but I must dash, Jerome," Magnus finished, and he disappeared into the night as Jerome's form faded once more.

Task 1

As the weary traveller crossed the rickety bridge, he paused. Beneath him, the bridge creaked and whistled in the wind. "Come out," he called into the foggy night as he leant against the wooden railing. "Do not be afraid," he said in a quieter voice. "Even ghosts need to talk, Jerome. Far more than people think."

Gone was the wind as the bridge seemed to sigh and groan of its own accord. Having expected this, the traveller did nothing.

"I don't suppose you have a light?" Jerome's voice sounded in the darkness, and the traveller turned around to see his ethereal form coalesce into a man as old as himself. "Keeps the old ectoplasm going, eh Magnus?" Looking upon the ghost with fondness, Magnus chuckled.

"My dear fellow, you look well." Noting the general shabbiness of the living man's attire, Jerome raised a single, bushy eyebrow.

"Of course I look well - I died in finery. Perhaps you ought to follow suit."

"Quite - except I have neither the longing to die nor the money for fine clothes." Recognising the signs of affront, Jerome backed off.

"Sorry old chap - I forget myself in my death. Tell me, do you see Isabelle anymore?" Understanding the dead man's tactful subject change as a peace offering, Magnus answered.

"Very little, I'm afraid - she is still bound to the cemetery. When she is free, she has yet to disclose."

"Xavier might know," Jerome mused. "You know where he is?"

"Zanzibar - but I must dash, Jerome," and Magnus disappeared into the night as Jerome's form faded once more.