Our theme at the the Third Coast Writers’ blog this month was Halloween/ghost stories. I can’t write scary to save my life, so here’s my offering instead:

Frederick Crimweather Larkin was not scary.

And that was okay. Many people aren’t scary and they get through life just fine.

But that was the problem.

Frederick wasn’t a people.

Frederick was a ghost.

And Frederick was failing his Intro to Causing Nightmares class. And Creep Tactics 101. And Jump Scares for Beginners. In fact, the only class he currently excelled at was Apparitions: How to Be Heard and Not Seen.

But any ghost worth his smoke could pass that class.

This was his fifth trip to the academic advisor this year and, if all went as planned, his third time changing his major.

The advisor – a great beastly bogeyman with red slits for eyes – sighed and clasped his transparent hands. “Frederick, I don’t think majoring in House Haunting is the right course for you.”

“Why not? I think it makes much more sense than Possession. I don’t know what I was thinking with that one – that’s far beyond my skillset. But House Haunting? That’s where the money’s at.”

The advisor pursed what would be called lips on any other persons but could only vaguely be described as an opening on him. “Based on your current strengths, you may want to consider…Graveyard Haunting.”

“Graveyard Haunting?!” Frederick scoffed. “Everyone knows that’s a waste of a major. There’s hardly any job openings and absolutely no place for advancement. I might as well take up scaring kids in an amusement park’s haunted mansion!”

“Calm down, many a respectable ghost has earned a living haunting graveyards and amusement parks. There’s no need to be elitist.”

Frederick stubbornly scooted his paperwork for changing majors across the desk. “Sure, fine, but I’m going into House Haunting.”

“Very well,” the advisor sighed.

Frederick failed that semester.

He went into Graveyard Haunting and graduated with a 2.25 GPA from Ethereal Being Institute after three years.

Ω

Years passed and Frederick’s graduating class, for the most part, went on to successful careers and gradually forgot about each other except for the updates that they posted on SpookBook. Many a house got terrorized, a respectable number of hand-painted dolls properly gained magical powers, and several poorly lit streets saw an increase in car accidents.

In other words, Ethereal Being Institute gained much renown for the quality of its alumni.

But there were murmurs that a new sort of terror plagued the landscape. Reports of whole towns full of jittery people awake past two in the morning, draining coffee like their lives depended on it, began to reach the institute. There seemed to be no particular cause for it, but rumor reached the school that one of their own was responsible.

EBI called a special convention for all the local House Haunters to discuss the issue. The foremost matter of importance was to determine whether they were the ones responsible for the uptick in scare profitability, and, secondly, if the tactics they were using could be shared in order to be taught to incoming students.

“No,” grumped Egregious Farmby, who was known for his groundbreaking work in disembodiment. “And believe you me, if I were responsible, I wouldn’t be skulking around hiding my face while I entered houses that were already haunted by licensed ghosts like this fellow has been doing. I mean, surely there are regulations in place for that sort of thing.”

“Quite the opposite actually,” said Ghouldore III, the provost and presider over the meeting. “Multiple apparitions are encouraged in house hauntings so long as proper breaks between disturbances take place.”

“But this isn’t a haunting!” Egregious spluttered. “It’s a….well, I don’t even know what it is! Whenever it happens at a place I’m lurking in, the disturbance never seems to last for more than a few minutes and, when I get to the human, they’re already awake in a cold sweat. It spoils the whole element of surprise and nothing tried after is effective – the people are far too distracted to notice if their plates are levitating mysteriously!”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“It’s a breach of the specter code!”

“It is a distortion of our work!”

“It’s unethical!”

“It’s a creative use of psychological disturbance that as yet has not been exploited.”

Everyone fell silent at the new voice chiming in. As one, they all turned – or floated, or reappeared or whatever they could do to manage to look behind them – and saw a trim, little ghost hovering in the background of the room. He was one of those snazzy ghosts who could look almost like a real live person if he wanted – a skill envied by many a specter.

He grinned and tipped his incorporeal fedora at them. “Couldn’t help but join in the debate, since I seem to be the topic at hand.”

“Who are you?” Egregious sneered, trying not to let his envy of the nice three-piece suit that the new ghost had conjured to get to him.

“Frederick?” gasped Ghouldore.

“Indeed. And I am the one responsible for the progress that has been made in developing our scare tactics.”

“You?” taunted Egregious. “You could hardly scare a black cat back in the day, how do you expect us to believe you are capable of terrifying whole towns?”

“You’re welcome to accompany on my ventures tonight. I’ll even let you decide whether I can continue in the area or not. If you have an objection to my methods, I can certainly take myself down to Mexico. They’re always welcoming spirits of all kinds there.”

The murmuring in the room grew to a clamor until Ghouldore had to puff himself up and use his eerie voice to call, “SILENCE!”

The less substantial ghosts completely disappeared for a moment while the others quieted down. It took a few moments for some to rematerialize and Ghouldore patiently waited for them before he announced, “There’s no reason we cannot at least see what he is doing before we make a decision.”

“You expect an entire consortium of ghosts to – what? Stroll down the streets and peer into all the houses this oaf wants to haunt?” Egregious couldn’t keep his protests to himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not! Stop interrupting me Farmby or I’ll have you dismissed,” Ghouldore huffed. “Now, we’ll select a couple members from the current party to accompany Mr. Larkin on his ventures tonight. Frederick, if you would, please give us time to deliberate.”

“Of course,” and he disappeared from the room.

Ω

Several hours and many Egregiously-inspired protestations later, Ghouldore, Egregious, and another ghost by the name of Weatherby, followed Frederick at a discrete distance as he entered one of those typical American urban neighborhoods. It was well past midnight and the whole street was dark and quiet.

Frederick indicated his first house by pausing in front of it, looking back at them, and then shimmering through the door.

“Smug little –“ Egregious started.

“Sssh!” the other two hissed.

They followed after Frederick, materializing in the house, and saw that he was floating over to a picture frame. He carefully took it down, sliding it behind one of the couches a few feet away, then headed for the staircase.

“What in the –“ another Egregious comment.

“Ssh!” From the other two.

They followed Frederick upstairs. He was in the bedroom of the owner of the house – a prominent lawyer in the county. He leaned over her, whispered something in her ear, and waited.

She didn’t stir.

He whispered again.

She mumbled in her sleep.

He glanced up at them and gestured for them to hide. They faded into the walls.

He whispered one more time.

She woke up gasping.

They watched in astonishment as she fumbled for the light switch. Light flooded the room and she grabbed her alarm, groaning at the late hour.

“It’s okay, just a bad dream,” she gasped, rubbing a hand across her forehead and sagging back against the pillows. She took a few deep breaths, but only seemed to get more worked up. Giving up, she shoved the covers off and got out of bed. “This is ridiculous….but I got to make sure.”

They followed her back downstairs, watching as she flicked on the lights and headed straight for where the picture frame had been hanging. Her whole expression grew panicked and she ran for the blank space, smoothing her hands over it. “No, no, no, where is it?!”

She checked the ground underneath the space, getting on her hands and knees and patting it just in case. Then she was up and at the desk drawers, tearing them open frantically and scrambling through the papers there.

“Come on, come on! Where is it?!”

As enjoyable as her terror was, the other ghosts were pulled away from her frenzy by Frederick, who was leading them to the next house.

Much the same thing happened. Frederick would move a picture frame, maybe a medal, maybe an award, go to the owner, whisper in their ear, and then chaos would rain down on the household. There was the occasional deep sleeper who could not be disturbed no matter how many whispers occurred, but for the most part, there was soon a whole street of distraught people combing through their belongings.

They all reached the end of the street and watched the lights going on in all of the houses.

“I don’t get it,” Ghouldore murmured in disbelief. “How are you doing it?”

“It’s really rather simple,” Frederick beamed.

“Oh really?” sneered Egregious.

“Why yes, I think it’s a tactic that’ll even work on you.”

“Try me.”

“You never got your license to haunt,” Frederick said.

Egregious scoffed. “Is that it? That’s all you have? Meaningless taunts? I’ll have you know I’ve been a licensed haunter for the past fifteen years. Look, I’ll show you.”

He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to a well-worn pocket – the kind that had the clear plastic sleeve on top so that anyone could read the card underneath.

But there was nothing there.

“What the -?! It was right there this morning! I never take it out.” Egregious tugged at the pocket, then started pulling out the other cards in the wallet, even going so far as to sit down on the street and rifle through them all.

Frederick stepped back a couple spaces, Ghouldore and Weatherby following him.

“Ok, how did you do that?” Ghouldore asked.

“Well, as you know, I excelled in my Apparitions class – which makes it easy for me to pickpocket pretty much anyone. I got his id back at EBI. I’ll give it back once he’s on the edge of a disintegration attack.”

“Frederick,” Weatherby admonished. But whatever lecture he wanted to give was put on hold as another question occurred to him, “I still don’t get it though…what are you telling them that has the people so terrified?”

Frederick shrugged, “Oh, things like ‘You never graduated from college,’ ‘You failed your presentation,’ or ‘Someone else won the championship’.”

Ghouldore stared at him. “And you hide what gives them credibility.”

“I do.”

“You’re terrifying.”

“I know.”