Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) by Christiana Miller

Author:Christiana Miller [Miller, Christiana]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Occult, Horror, Genre Fiction, Ghosts, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: HekaRose Publishing Group
Published: 2014-09-06T22:00:00+00:00

I was able to track him pretty easily. He was so totally immersed in whatever it was he was doing, he had no idea I was behind him.

When he cautiously entered the family cemetery, searching around the tombstones, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Did you lose something?” I asked.

J.J. screamed and fell backwards over a tombstone, landing on top of my Great-Uncle Bertram’s grave. Then he screamed again.

“Would you stop that? It’s just me.”

J.J. kept screaming, until he was able to locate me, standing next to the angel statue at Lisette’s grave.

“Snap out of it before I slap you. I’m not a ghost. If you don’t believe me, I’ll be happy to kick you in your goonies.”

His hands crossed over his crotch and he sniffled. “Dudette. It really is you. I thought I was hallucinating. I hate this place. Who the hell has their own cemetery?”

“Then what are you doing here?” I asked, as I walked over and gave him a hand up. “I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah… I thought I’d pay my respects to your Aunt Tillie before I go.” He said, brushing dirt off his pants and trying hard to look bashful and earnest.

“Did you think I buried her in the back yard?” I asked. “Is that why you were snooping there first? Or that I had chopped her into pieces and you needed a magnifying glass to find all of her?”

He looked at me blankly for a second, before he caught on. “Oh, right. Probably not so much.”

“So why don’t you knock it off and tell me what you’re looking for.”

“No disrespect, Dudette. But I would really rather not.” He shoved the magnifying glass into one of his pants pockets.

“Have you ever wondered why this place and I get along so well?” I asked. “It’s because we’re cut from the same cloth.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

“It means the cottage isn’t the only one who can turn you into a tree.”

J.J.’s eyes widened.

You had to love J.J. He was so gullible and sweet. I figured it was due to random brain cells being atomized by his on-going love affair with all things marijuana. If he wasn’t human, he’d be a stuffed toy—albeit a dirty, slobbered-on, stinky one that was more than ready for the washing machine.

“So, cough it up. What are you looking for?”

He sighed, made a face and stared down at his dirt-covered sneakers. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

I looked at my watch. “Great. Then you can tell me in the car.”

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