Christmas Stalkings by Todd Pettigrew & Scott Sharplin & Ken Chisholm & Jenn Tubrett

Author:Todd Pettigrew & Scott Sharplin & Ken Chisholm & Jenn Tubrett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: short stories, Christmas, ghost, humour, humor, literary, famous authors
Publisher: Sherry D. Ramsey
Published: 2016-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

The man was within reaching distance, and, to be perfectly honest, a grown man hanging out in the attic of a boarding school hiding under a sheet was a whole different kind of scary. So on instinct, I shoved him away.

My hands pushed into nothing but cold. The sheet only pressed inward, hollow underneath. Suddenly, my hands were so cold that they hurt. I brought them to my mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to claw out of my throat.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” a man with a prim voice said, from under the sheet. It shook and the sheet fell to the floor. “I told young master Buckingham that this was in poor taste.”

Standing before us was a transparent man in a transparent tweed suit wearing little, transparent, round-rimmed glasses.

He was real. There was a ghost in the attic of our boarding school. A little cliché, yeah, but holy cool. This was amazing! He was looking at us and talking to us. Bucky was right twice in one day—a whole other sort of phenomenon.

Bucky laughed. “No, it was awesome! Haha, you two are such losers. Rob, I thought you were going to pass out when he came up from behind the crates.”

“Bucky?” I asked, quietly because I couldn’t find enough breath for full voice. “You set this up?”

“Yeah!” he boomed. “Ya burnt!”

I held my palms out in disbelief. Not that he set this up, or that he had been having actual conversations with a ghost—because he had told us that. We thought he was full of crap at the time, but he still told us. But I had to ask the question that anyone in this situation would want to know. “Why the hell would you ask a ghost to dress up like a ghost?”

“To scare you guys!”

“But the ghost is scary enough!”

“Precisely what I said.” The ghost shook his head. “But I’m afraid the young man insisted on the scratching and the rising and the ‘boo,’ whatever that’s supposed to bloody mean.”

“And it worked,” Bucky said. “Nicely played, Jeeves.”

“Young master, for the last time, my name is Carleton Nigel Winchester the Third.” The ghost said, prissily plucking at the cufflinks on his shirt sleeves.

“Nah,” Bucky said. “Your name is Jeeves.”

“I think he would know his own name,” I whispered, still not recovered enough to find my full voice.

“Thank you, young master...” He trailed off, looking at me for the first time. “You, you’re not a boy.”

“I...um...I’m...” I stammered, holy crap, the ghost was talking to me. “No. No, I’m not a boy.”

He took a small sharp breath that brought his shoulders up. “Young Buckingham,” he said, and I detected a teacher in his sharp, checking tone. “Did you not promise to bring other students?”

“Claire is a student here.”

“They let girls attend now?” He rolled his ghost eyes. “I’m just going to say it. I am glad that I died a hundred years ago. Between,” he gestured to Bucky, “this young man’s appalling manners, young ladies in slacks, and,” he looked at Rob.

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