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Description
Luna thought she had simply bought a cool new guitar. Or rather, a cool used guitar from a rather shady shop. That should have been the first warning sign, but the rocker girl was already alone in her house practicing a few chords on the instrument. It was perfectly tuned, the sounds that came out of the steel wires simply enchanting. Metaphorically and literally. She noticed too late that she was slowly losing her head over the guitar's sound, compelled by some force to play it more. And the more she played, the more she felt malice and aggression swell up in her heart. It was quick, painless and mesmerizing, but the instrument was changing her. She lost herself in the music and couldn't even care about her skin turning a rotten, pale shade of lime before completely giving way to greenish ectoplasm, her hair standing on her neck as it metamorphosed into a blazing blue flame.
They used to say that rock sells your soul to the devil, but in this case it couldn't have been any more true. Her soul was quite literally corrupted by the essence of the instrument, using it as raw material to reshape into the dead ghost of its owner.
A certain undead rocker gal with an attention seeking complex was now standing among Luna's old amps and rock magazines, flashing a wicked smile. Her old family would soon start coming back home from whatever dumb suburban hijinks they had gotten themselves into that day, and find their third eldest replaced by a spirit they didn't even know the name of. Of course, she'd have to make them remember it forever.

Description
Luna thought she had simply bought a cool new guitar. Or rather, a cool used guitar from a rather shady shop. That should have been the first warning sign, but the rocker girl was already alone in her house practicing a few chords on the instrument. It was perfectly tuned, the sounds that came out of the steel wires simply enchanting. Metaphorically and literally. She noticed too late that she was slowly losing her head over the guitar's sound, compelled by some force to play it more. And the more she played, the more she felt malice and aggression swell up in her heart. It was quick, painless and mesmerizing, but the instrument was changing her. She lost herself in the music and couldn't even care about her skin turning a rotten, pale shade of lime before completely giving way to greenish ectoplasm, her hair standing on her neck as it metamorphosed into a blazing blue flame.
They used to say that rock sells your soul to the devil, but in this case it couldn't have been any more true. Her soul was quite literally corrupted by the essence of the instrument, using it as raw material to reshape into the dead ghost of its owner.
A certain undead rocker gal with an attention seeking complex was now standing among Luna's old amps and rock magazines, flashing a wicked smile. Her old family would soon start coming back home from whatever dumb suburban hijinks they had gotten themselves into that day, and find their third eldest replaced by a spirit they didn't even know the name of. Of course, she'd have to make them remember it forever.