Story 53: A Proper Ghost Story, Part 2

            “Now children,” The Storyteller said to the eager crowd gathered before her.  “Where did I leave off?”

            “A bang!”

            “A crash!”

            “A door opening!”

            “No, no, the lady looking around the door!”

            “Oh yes, how could I have forgotten?”

            She gripped the bat harder, sloooooowly looked around the door, and saw –

            a young boy dribbling a basketball in the living room.

            <Huh?>

            <Hush.>

            “Hey kid!”  She yelled at him.  “Go home before I call the cops!”

            But the boy just threw the ball at the wall, which made another

            BANG!

            “I’m warning you!”  She raised the bat, not sure what she or the boy would do next.  Suddenly, a man entered the living room from the kitchen.

            “Kevin, I told you, not in the house!”

            “But Dad – ”

            “But outside!”

            She watched as Kevin slumped his shoulders and walked through the front door.  As in, through the front door.  Without opening it.

            “These kids,” Dad said to himself.

            “Uh… sir?”  The young lady’s voice cracked.

            Dad went back into the kitchen.  She followed him, and when she entered that room no one was there.  She then opened the front door, and only the sight of a wandering wolf greeted her.  She closed the door and sat with the bat on the couch for the rest of the night, but no one came.

<The End?>

            <Of course not, children, now it’s a mystery!>

            Life went on for the young homeowner, only now with less sleep.  She continued with her interior decorating, but every night she was awoken by the noises of the family in the living room.  Along with Kevin and Dad, there were Mom and Julie and a goldfish, all of whom were unaware of her presence.  She waited for the appearance of blood on the wall or demonic writings, but nothing like that happened.  Even when she installed a stereo system, the family seemed to be literally unfazed by her projects.

            <This isn’t scary anymore.>

            <Just hold on.>

            Without wanting to draw too much attention to herself, she began discreetly asking her neighbors whether the house’s previous owners had been horribly murdered.  No one really could say what had happened, until one day, a cousin of her next-door neighbor came over and told her the most frightening news she had never expected:

           

The family… was still alive!

            “To be continued!”

            “I’m confused.”

            “That was the intention.”

Story 53: A Proper Ghost Story, Part 1

            “… and the blood poured over them, forever and ever until the end of time.  The End.”  The school-age audience gaped back at The Storyteller until one girl raised her hand.  “Yes?”

            “Sorry, thank you for the story, but it wasn’t really… scary, it was just gross.”  A few “Yeah”s agreed.

            “Oh.  I thought ‘gross’ was what all the kids wanted nowadays,” The Storyteller said.

            “Actually,” the little girl said, “we’ll take just scary, `cause right now I feel a little like I want to barf.”  The idea spread like wildfire and all the kiddies’ faces turned green. 

            “Ooh,” The Storyteller winced and held her hands out to hold off any of that.  “All right, no barfing, please.  So, you all want scary?”  Their heads nodded.  “Creepy?”  Nodded.  “Spine-chillingly terrifying?”  Nodded – one clapped his hands.  “Ooey, gooey, and hairy?”  They shook their heads and a few gagged.  “Very well, then.  I think I can whip up something to your liking.  I call this one:"

A Proper Ghost Story

            There once was a young lady who recently came into a small fortune and decided that it was high time that she struck off on her own in the world.  So, saying “Fare thee well” to her mummy and her daddy, she traveled from city to city and town to town, searching for a place she could now slap on the label of Home.  She found a lovely little suburb in the Midwest of the U.S. and soon found a lovely little house that she bought surprisingly dirt cheap.  Grave-dirt cheap, in fact, because it turns out that the lovely little house was, in fact, HAUNTED. 

            <Gasps and hands flying to faces>

            Of course, our young lady was not informed that she was purchasing a haunted house at the time of the sale because her real estate agent was unethical.  <What’s “unethical”?>  <Means you’re mean.>  So she moved in her few possessions – she had been travelling very lightly up until now – and settled in with all her plans for the great interior decorating projects she had in store for her new abode.

            That is, until, THAT NIGHT.

            That night, she went to sleep on her air mattress – very handy in her previous lifestyle – in what was now her bedroom.  The walls were bare, the floors were bare, and even the windows were bare because she needed to buy curtains, which will take forever because you have to decide on your color scheme, and what to have for summer and what to have for winter, and – she lay there for a while, realizing all the responsibilities and never-ending to-do lists being a homeowner entails.  She lay there, in the dark, slowly moving from thoughts of interior design to noticing how the wind moaned through the nearly empty house.

            Whooooooosh, whoooo, whooo, whoooo-OOOOOHHHH-ooooohhhh!

            The full moon shone through her room’s window <I thought she was in the dark?> … until clouds blocked it from sight and left her in darkness once more.  She also thought she saw some bats fluttering by outside, unless they were just some very confused birds.

            And then, she heard IT.

            Drip, drip, drip.

            She tried to ignore it but the bare house was an echo chamber.

            Drip, drip, drip.

            She put a pillow over her head.

            Drip.

            Knowing that would be all night, she got up and walked to the main bathroom.  The faucet was leaking, and tightening everything did not help.  Another to-do item for the next day: pick up some putty.

            BANG!

<Everyone jumped>

            The crash came from the living room.  Quickly, she ran back to her bedroom, picked up the baseball bat that was propped against the wall next to her mattress, and tip-toed to the living room.  She creaked slowly down the hallway, CREAK, CREAK, CREAK.  She came to the living room door and sloooowly pushed it open, CREEEEEAK.  She gripped the bat harder, sloooooowly looked around the door, and saw –

             "It’s 4:00, story time’s over, see you all next week!”

            “Noooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!”

Story 52: The Successful Telemarketer

            “And here’s Margaret, who has a success rate of 99% in her 30+ years with our company.”

            “Wow.  That’s… unbelievable.”

            “I know.  And yet it’s true.”

            “Can I listen in?”

            “Sure – Margaret, you mind if we observe you in action?”

            “Not at all – I love training new people.”  She placed a call.

            <Hello?>
            “Hello, this is ---- Charities, how are you this morning, ma’am?”

            <Oh, I don’t give to – >

            “I’m great, thanks, and I was wondering how much of a donation would you be able to give this year?”

            <But I haven’t given – >

            “Twenty-five dollars is very generous of you, ma’am – thank you so much!”

            <But – >

            “And for your kind donation today, we’re going to send you a free tote bag.”

            <…Oh, I see.>

            “I just need your credit card number so we can send that free bag right on over to you.”

            “She’s good.”

            “You have no idea.  Mind if we hear another one, Margaret?”

            “I certainly don’t mind.  You caught me at a good time.”  She placed a call.

            <Yeah?>

            “Hi, I’m calling from ---- Charities to renew your membership with us.”

            <You again; stop callin’ me!  I’m on the don’t call list – does the list mean nothing?!>

            “It does.  If you contribute $50 today, I promise I’ll never call you again.”

            <That’s extortion!  Sigh, fine, only if you’ll never call me again.>

            After disconnecting: “And now I’m forwarding this file to Rob over there to call him at this time next year.”

            “Very smooth.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Would you like to see the break room next?”

            “Ooh, is it all right if I listen to one more call?  Rule of three, you know, plus I feel that I’m in the presence of a master.”

            “Well, Margaret, if that’s OK with you?”

            “Sure!  I love an audience.”  She placed a call.

            <Mm-yell-o?>

            “Hello, this is ---- Charities, calling – ”

            <Listen, you beep-ing beep-ers call me all the beep-ing beep beep time, and I’m beep-ing sick and beep-ing tired of this beep, and you all should beep and go to beep beep beep beep BEEP!>

            “You will die alone.”  She disconnected.  “Sorry you had to hear all that, but it won’t be the last time – you just can’t win them all.”

            “Can I have your autograph?”