Short Stories

Writing: Character Sheet: Cruxh

Here is another character sheet from my upcoming book. The working title is BON for now.

This is a raw version, so any mistakes and contradictions hopefully will be ironed out.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I more than happy to answer them.

So without further due, here is Cruxh:

Role in Story:

Important, main character. He also sheds light on the workings of the city and its history. Rest censored…


A Town Hall council member, love interest to… (yes, this is an occupation. At least many married couples might say so.) Rest censored.

Physical Description:

Cruxh is a ghoul. He is a lot smaller than ghouls are. Also not that athletic compared to them but still can take any man in combat.

Cruxh likes to dress stylishly. If you ask humans, he is too posh for his kind. He reminds them of their own failings and uncivility. However, he doesn’t dress well to put down anyone. He thinks a proper gentleman should always look his best, sharp, and tailored, and not to mention be polite, and agreeable. Though, Cruxh’s long-sleeved shirt, tailored waistcoat, trousers, and tailcoat fits ill to his disfigured form. His bend upper back and its disproportionate size compared to his lower body make his clothes hang on him. Despite it, he carries himself with dignity. He pushes his ghoulish humpback, making him almost stand straight.


Polite, optimistic, extroverted, intuitive, thinking, perceiving. Intelligent, a huge heart, kind. Affable, charming, confident, cultured, dependable, discreet, fair, helpful, humble, imaginative, trusting, natty, odd, easily procrastinate, private, formal. Profound, principled, and idealistic.


Polite, so much it irritates others. He tries hard not to touch his suit to correct it or anything else as that would mean defeat. One of these days he has to find a tailor who can not only alter clothes but make them from scratch to fit a ghoul.

Cruxh is stiff with his movements that might be because he is trying to morph his body to be something it isn’t. He seems like he would crumble into pieces if he did something out of his character (puts too much value to be in control.)

He laughs a high pitch laugh, making him sound like a jackal. There is nothing like smile and laugh to bond and bring people together, but when your smile/laugh has predatory elements in it, it defeats the purpose. It took Cruxh too long to understand why people fled whenever he tried to be agreeable and laugh. Finally, when he noticed the reason, he practiced his smile and laugh in front of a mirror, (causing him great pain as he hates his own image.) He changed his smile from the terror level to there-is-something-wrong-with-your-smile level, which he found to be a great improvement. But the laugh part he never got right.


Cruxh is a son of Gwerrusxh (leader of ghouls) and her partner. He was early on fascinated by humans and their culture, especially the things they call books. He went against his mother’s wishes and stole whatever he could find from the humans: clothes, books, toys, anything. The more he familiarized with humans, the more he was sure he wanted to be part of the city (Necropolis) above. Cruxh plead his mother to let him apply for a job, and after ten years of arguing in favor of his working up there, she gave in.

Very next day he went up with the other ghouls who worked as street sweepers, cleaners, and another sort of manual laborer where high intelligent wasn’t expected and actually was frowned upon. He tried cleaning first but got fired as soon as he introduced improvements. Then he moved on to street sweeping. There he scared people when he insisted on speaking to passers-by, helping them get across the street, or thinking of having a philosophical conversation could be a way to start friendships. It wasn’t, he can testify to that.

Cruxh hated going to work. It killed the dreamer inside him. This wasn’t how things supposed to be. Where was the noble concept he read and dreamt of? Sweeping streets couldn’t be his destiny? He continued working for twenty years as he couldn’t show his mother she was right. One day when he continued harassing people with his philosophies, a man stopped to listen to him. They continued the conversation further, and the man offered an assistant’s position at the Union of the Undead to him. Cruxh got excited. He had never thought he could end up working for the people to better the city, but the opportunity had risen, and he took it. The man, who had stopped to talk to him, took Cruxh under his wings and together they campaigned ghouls to be thought as undead and thus getting a right to be part of the city and its politics.

Little did Cruxh know the only reason for the man to include him was to gain more power and backers at the party. And if Cruxh had known, his idealistic self might have objected, but the reasonable side wouldn’t have cared. All he wanted was to be part of the city and what better way to do that than through politics. He made himself the best assistant there was, listening to and learning everything said around him. He paid attention to how the man, William Cockerham, dressed, spoke, held himself, introduced himself to others, and the rest. What Cruxh was now, the polite gentleman, came from William. And they became friends even when the man was using him as a tool. When Cruxh learned his true purpose, he first felt angry, but by then he had gotten the door open for a few more ghouls, and he didn’t care anymore. He had his own plans outside the inner party’s power struggle between Bertha Chaplain and William Cockerham.

Internal Conflicts:

Being a ghoul and not being appreciated. Being ashamed of himself and his race. Wanting more for them and himself. Being in love with, rest censored

External Conflicts:

Finding those who had attacked censored. How ghouls and himself are being pushed aside and how humans treat them. Still taking humans… rest censored.


Cruxh made the broom work. He moved it from one side to another. There was something relaxing to see his efforts leave a mark. Where his broom swept, the street looked almost new. Cruxh created a path for him and tried to avoid people rushing past him. Whenever he made a wrong move, a move which stepped on someone’s path, he got loud sighs and sometimes angry curses yelled at him. That always made him feel nauseated. It baffled Cruxh how he hadn’t gotten used to that by now, after working nineteen years, eleven months, and fourteen days as a sweeper. Every time he heard the deep sigh of disgust, disappointment, and annoyance he felt pointless.

On those occasions, he wanted to melt away. Not be there and not be anywhere. This day had been one of those bad days. His senses were playing tricks on him, and he didn’t seem to sense people coming and going. He stepped into their way, and one time he had hit a running man with his broom. The only way he could cope that day through was to talk about what life ought to be and what it was. What it was to be here and why such a question should be answered. He ranted on, trying to soothe his aching soul. Okay, not a soul as ghouls didn’t have souls, they were technically demons.

“Are you all right, sir?” a man asked.

Cruxh paid no attention to the question. He thought it was for someone else. The man repeated his question and stepped closer to Cruxh.

Cruxh looked up startled by the intruder. “Me?” he asked.

“Yes, you sir,” the man said. He was an older gentleman, with silver hair. He held himself high and looked like he owned the world or at least was in control the space around him and any inner thoughts that might pass by.

“I… I’m fine,” Cruxh said.

“You were talking,” the man said.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to,” Cruxh said, turning his attention back to his broom, thinking the conversation was over.

“There is nothing to be sorry about. I found your words about the condition of our existence interesting. Would it be a terrible hassle if you repeated your point one more time?” the man asked.

“You really want to hear?” Cruxh asked.

The man smiled. Cruxh wasn’t sure if it was a friendly smile or not, but he took it as one. The silver haired man encouraged him, he said, “What you said a moment ago was the first intelligent words I have heard today. It would be a travesty not to hear your conclusion. You would do me a favor if you let me hear the beginning and the ending of your argument.”

Cruxh did just that. At some point, while he had talked, the broom had moved from Cruxh to the man, and he did the sweeping instead of him. Cruxh was elated to speak, and he didn’t even notice what had happened. They talked through his whole shift, moving only a little and going in great distances at the same time. At the end of the night, Cruxh had resigned, and he was going back to his mother with the great news: he had made it.

Thank you for reading.

© K.A. Ashcomb

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