You sit on a haybale, idly playing with a single stalk of hay. You twirl it between your fingers, the ghostly green ectoplasm that coats your skeleton behaving identically to flesh. With an effort it behaves however you want it to, fingers extending and thickening, branching into more or merging together into different shapes. Though the skeleton that forms your core remains static, your new ethereal flesh is remarkably pliant. Suddenly the door to the barn creaks open