The drink would not satisfy. Food turned to ash in our mouths. And all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust. We are cursed men, Miss Turner. Compelled by greed we were, but now we are consumed by it.

Look! The moonlight shows us for what we really are. We are not among the living, and so we cannot die, but neither are we dead. For too long I've been parched with thirst and unable to quench it. Too long I've been starving to death and haven't died. I feel nothing... not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman's flesh. You best start believing in ghost stories Miss Turner. You're in one!