About the Author.
De-ann Black is a bestselling author, traditionally published for over 15 years, with over 40 books published, scriptwriter and former newspaper journalist.
She splits her time between Scotland, Dublin and London.
Text copyright © 2010 by De-ann Black
Illustrations © 2010 by De-ann Black
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written consent of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Toffee Apple Publishing 2012
Smashwords Edition
Secondhand Spooks — December 32nd
ISBN-13: 978-1-908072-76-4
Toffee Apple Publishing
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CONTENTS
Whatever Happened to Lucky Eddie?
1 - Strange One
2 - The Secondhand Spook Shop
3 - Trespassers Will Be Haunted
4 - Rules for Ghouls
5 - Spider’s Web
6 - Haunted Hallowe’en
7 - Ghosts, Ghouls and Werewolves
8 - Nightshade Wynd
9 - The Darkle–lands
10 - Happy Haunting Birthday
11 - Mystery and Mayhem
12 - Night of the Dead
13 - December 32nd
More books by De-ann Black (sample chapters)
Whatever Happened to Lucky Eddie?
Lucky Eddie ran frantically down Nightshade Wynd. His hair was sticking up like a startled ferret and his eyes were filled with terror. He’d been warned never to go near Nightshade Wynd, to take the long way back to the shop, especially late at night when only the creepiest and most horrible creatures were lurking in the shadows. Creatures like the Darkles, the two shadowy figures chasing after him right now. He could hear their long cloaks flapping in the cold night air as they soared above him, searching...searching...
Keep running. Keep going, not much further now.
His battered leather shoes skidded on the frosty cobblestones, but he quickly regained his balance and ran on.
Then they saw him, sprinting like a maniac, caught for a flicker of a second in the neon lights of the Pitchstone cinema. Nightshade Wynd was beside the Pitchstone and even on the brightest day it was always steeped in shadows. Tonight a thunderstorm was raging in the distance and the shadows seemed darker than usual.
Whoosh! The Darkles changed direction, gathered pace and homed in on the teenager, hissing and howling in menacing voices as they swooped after him.
Lucky Eddie darted into a doorway and pressed himself into the shadows. The freezing air burned his lungs as he gasped for breath. He waited a moment and then peered out. He could see the far end of the wynd, lit by the glow of a streetlamp. Not far now. He could do it.
Then he saw a big, dark green delivery van shrouded in mist at the end of the wynd. Hurray! His friends were looking for him. Spurred on, he ran full pelt towards the van.
‘Hey, help, help! Mr Boo!’ he shouted.
But they didn’t hear him.
The van slowly started to pull away.
He chased after it in desperation.
‘Help! Mr Boooooo.’
He almost reached the van, but from nowhere, a third Darkle appeared and grabbed hold of him. This Darkle was taller and more powerful than the others. Its eyes shone bright red and its hiss was horrifying.
Lucky Eddie let out a torturous cry which was quickly stifled by a gnarled hand.
The other Darkles swooped in — and then everything became silent.
Moments later, the three ghouls flew off with Lucky Eddie into the night, carrying him like a rag doll. Their long grey cloaks merged with the stormy sky and only their eyes, like red lights in the darkness, could be seen.
At the far end of the wynd the van drove off, unaware of Lucky Eddie’s horrible fate.
And in the icy mist a man was watching, watching and waiting for something, and then he disappeared into the shadows.
1
Strange One
‘I used to be afraid of the dark.
I imagined there were all sorts of ghosts and
ghouls lurking in the shadows at night.
If only I’d known then, what I know now...’
Murphy.
Twilight Street was asleep as the thunderstorm gathered pace over the heart of the town. Eerie, swirling clouds soared above the shops and houses far below, casting dark shadows across the starless sky. A sense of foreboding filled the air, and the howling wind whipped and snarled across the rooftops as if it had a grudge against something, or someone.
It was 2.30am, and the only light in any window came from the attic bedroom of an old gothic–looking house. This was Murphy’s room.
The storm had woken him up in the dead of night — or was it something else that had disturbed his sleep? He looked warily around the room and used his bedside lamp as a searchlight to peer into every darkened corner. There was nothing out of sorts that he could see. Everything was still in a bit of a muddle. Half unpacked cardboard boxes and cases were scattered on the floor. He’d promised his mother he’d tidy his things away tomorrow. They’d only just moved in. Moving to a different town, miles from where they used to live, was a daunting thought, but exciting too. Maybe that’s why his imagination was working overtime. It was silly to think there was someone in his room...
Creeeeeeeak!
Murphy clutched at the duvet and pulled it up until only his startled grey eyes and dark, messy hair that stuck up in wild peaks were visible. ‘Who’s there?’ he said.
Silence — then, creeeeeeak!
He held his breath and listened. Silence again. Perhaps the house with its uneven floorboards was creaking with age. Old houses did that, didn’t they?
Crack! A flash of lightning ripped across the sky and lit up the room. The force of it caused an electrical short. The lamp flickered then pinged into darkness.
Murphy fumbled under his pillow in a frantic search for the torch he always kept handy. He found it, flicked it on and shone the beam around the room. Apart from the storm raging outside, everything seemed fine. Then the floorboards creaked again and he shone the light in the direction of the sound. ‘Who is it?’
But there was no one to be seen.
It crossed his mind to call his mother from downstairs, but he reconsidered. He didn’t want to seem weak. He always tried to be strong these days ever since his father went missing.
Then he heard noises outside — howling, wailing and other ghoulish sounds. He’d never heard anything quite like it before. He had to see where the noises were coming from.
He crept over to the window and peered outside. The street was dead. There was no traffic and the shops were closed for the night. So where were the noises coming from? Then he saw a big, dark green delivery van turning slowly into Twilight Street. The sides of the van were expanding and contracting wildly, as if something really weird was trying to get out. Judging by the eerie howling and undulating metal, whatever was inside was not your average delivery.
Part of him wanted to run and hide, but instead he was compelled to watch what happened next.
The van stopped outside one of the shops. A sign on the door was barely visible. It read:
CLOSED UNTIL MIDNIGHT ON TUESDAYS.
Murphy frowned. What type of shop opened at midnight?
The driver, a small tubby man wearing spectacles, got out of the van. He walked over to the shop, unlocked the front door and switched on a green lantern that was hanging outside. It lit up the name above the shop: SECONDHAND SPOOKS.
Murphy gulped. Secondhand what?
The man approached the rear of the delivery van and called cheerfully to whoever or whatever was inside.
‘We’re here!’
Boisterous noises and wild activity came from inside the van.
‘Yipeee! Hooray!’ Or something like that. Murphy was too mesmerised to decipher it exactly.
The man unlocked the van doors.
‘I know we’re a bit late, but remember, there’s no need to —’
The moment the doors opened, the man was swept aside in a loud, multi–coloured stream of energetic light that whizzed from the van straight into the shop.
Murphy could hardly believe what he was seeing. He didn’t dare blink so he wouldn’t miss a moment of it.
The shop was jumping with activity, like someone setting off fireworks in a box — loud, lively and bright.
The tubby little man adjusted his spectacles and headed towards the shop, finishing what he’d been saying. ‘No need to rush. Plenty of shelf room for everyone.’
He switched off the green lantern, and just before he stepped inside the shop, he looked up in the direction of Murphy’s room.
Panic! Murphy dropped the torch, stumbled and tripped over himself trying to dive back out of sight, then to make matters worse, a gust of wind whooshed open his windows causing him to flap like a maniac.
The man smiled knowingly to himself, then went inside the shop and closed the door behind him. The premises suddenly became calm, dark and quiet, almost as if nothing strange had happened.
Murphy slammed the windows shut, jumped into bed and tugged the duvet up to his nose. Only his eyes, wide with fear and disbelief, peered over. He had no clues and no logical means to investigate what he’d seen. Who would ever believe him?
2
The Secondhand Spook Shop
The bizarre events of the previous night were still forged in Murphy’s thoughts as he walked to his new school on the first day of December. It was a brisk, bright winter morning and he shivered more from tiredness than the cold. He’d hardly had a wink of sleep, which was just typical when he wanted to be alert this morning. No doubt he’d be the focus of attention at Crandleyhill School. First days were like that. And his blazer didn’t help. Bright purple didn’t exactly blend into the background. It wasn’t his mother’s fault. She hadn’t been able to get him a new red blazer on time.
Crossing the street he walked past the Secondhand Spook shop. By the looks of it the premises was closed. If he didn’t know better he’d have said it hadn’t seen any life in years. It seemed old and dusty, and had a pathetic looking skeleton dangling in the front window. The skeleton was wearing a woollen scarf and gloves. Was it a Hallowe’en shop? Secretly he hoped not. It was far more exciting to believe it had ghosts and ghouls lurking inside it.
The sound of children’s voices led him to Crandleyhill School which was a stone’s throw from Twilight Street. It had two large wrought iron gates that were now rusted into place and seemed to tower above him. Children were running around on a playground of red ash, and the school itself was an old sandstone building. It had probably been a lovely red colour when first built but years of neglect, rain and fungus had left it a rather sour green.
Crandleyhill was supposed to be one of the popular schools in town, but Murphy had his doubts. It looked like a musty old ruin. Still, it was near his house, so he could snuggle under his duvet for longer and then run there in minutes if he had to.
The Headmaster, Mr S. Hadow, was standing at the entrance ringing an antique bell. He was wearing a drab suit with a matching expression on his gaunt face, and long, black Headmaster’s robes. Above him, a date was carved into the sandstone — 1892. Murphy reckoned things had hardly changed here since that time. No one rang school bells by hand anymore.
The Headmaster’s keen eyes watched Murphy approach and made him feel self–conscious about his purple blazer. Everyone else was wearing red, and rather than blend into the crowd, he clashed with everyone else in sight. He might as well have worn a neon sign announcing: I AM THE NEW BOY. It had to be his blazer because there was nothing else outstanding about him this morning. He was twelve–years–old, of average height, sort of gangly but with potential to be taller and stronger like his father, and he’d made an effort to run a comb through his hair, mainly to please his mother who was more nervous than he was this morning about him starting a new school.
The morning was a blur of getting to know the curriculum. His class teacher, Mrs Fyre, a sharp featured woman with rigid red hair, was incredibly boring, either that or his thoughts were on more fascinating things — such as the Secondhand Spook shop. And who could blame him. Her red spectacles were the only thing interesting about Mrs Fyre. They made her look like a demented woodpecker with glowing red eyes, or a werewolf, depending on which way your imagination was running riot.
Sometimes between lessons he caught a glimpse of the Headmaster’s slinky silhouette disappearing at the far ends of the corridors. His nickname was the Shadow. ‘A meddling, background menace,’ was how one classmate described him. ‘Never around but always there,’ said another. Murphy was fine with this. He preferred it to a headmaster who was always in your face.
By lunchtime he’d made friends with a twelve–year–old girl in his class. Her name was Evie Snow and she was an absolute whiz at computers. Evie was a small, pretty blonde with green eyes, not of course that he’d noticed. Well all right, he had, but he didn’t want her to know, that would be just too embarrassing.
‘I wouldn’t eat the spaghetti if I were you,’ Evie said.
Murphy was queuing at the school cafeteria trying to decide what to have for lunch.
‘But the waffles are good,’ she said, smiling.
He had the waffles. And beans and green stuff.
He sat down at a table near the window and pretended he didn’t see three boys staring at him from the opposite side of the cafeteria. They’d made it plain that they didn’t like him. No particular reason, just the usual pick on the new boy syndrome. Grant, Kyle and Zander were going to be trouble. Evie sat down beside Murphy and assured him they were just mindless bullies, a fact that didn’t reassure him in the slightest.
‘How do you like Crandleyhill?’ Evie said brightly. ‘Good, isn’t it?’ She barely paused to catch her breath. ‘Did you move here with your parents?’
‘With my mother. She’s got a job at the local newspaper. She’s a photo–journalist.’
‘Wow! How exciting. She’ll find out all the gossip and scandal.’ Deep breath. ‘What about your father?’
Murphy’s expression darkened. ‘He went missing three years ago.’
Evie blinked. ‘Missing? What happened to him?’
Murphy shrugged his shoulders. He still missed his dad but he’d learned to adapt to the situation, as had his mother. ‘We moved here for a fresh start, though we’re never giving up hope of finding him one day.’
‘Did he just...vanish?’
‘Sort of...’ How could he possibly explain that his dad disappeared at the funfair? While Murphy had been enjoying a toffee apple, his dad had taken a ride on the Ghost Train — and they hadn’t seen him since.
Evie nodded but didn’t pry any further. He obviously didn’t like to talk about it. ‘Are you going to be a photo–journalist when you leave school?’
‘Hopefully. I’d like to work with the newspapers.’
‘I’m going to be a cyber sleuth,’ she announced.
‘A what–er–sleuth?’
Evie laughed. ‘A cyber sleuth — someone who finds hidden and secret data from computers.’
‘A detective?’
‘Yes. Do you have a computer?’
He nodded. It wasn’t a lie. He did have a computer. It wasn’t very good but it was fine for schoolwork, and his mother had promised him a better one soon.
‘There’s a fantastic computer cafe in town,’ she said. ‘The Spider’s Web. They’ve got these really cool computers. Almost everyone goes there. It’s not far from here, in Twilight Street.
‘We’ve just moved into Twilight Street.’
‘Really? Well the cafe’s near the middle, opposite the...’
‘Opposite what?’ Murphy prompted.
‘Opposite...another shop...it’s um...well, there are lots of strange shops in Twilight Street.’ She sounded awkward. ‘But you’d like the cafe. It’s brilliant. The owner’s a bit weird, but nice. He’s called Spider Web. He builds the computers. People say he’s scary, but personally I think his younger brother, Jack, is the real creep.’
‘Sounds...interesting.’
‘Oh it is, and Grant, Kyle and Zander don’t go there. They’re rubbish at computing. They avoid the Spider’s Web so they don’t look stupid.’ She smiled and giggled.
He liked Evie, and she was full of strange stories about the town. He was tempted to tell her about the Secondhand Spook shop and what he’d seen last night, but he held back, at least for now. If it was a Hallowe’en shop he’d look like a complete dimwit thinking it sold ghosts.
When school was finished for the day, Murphy walked back to Twilight Street intent on exploring the area and investigating the Secondhand Spook shop. The shops and houses were a strange assortment of old and new, yet somehow fitted together perfectly along the tree–lined street. At the far end of the street was the Pitchstone cinema whose mysterious projectionist, according to Evie, was two hundred years old. Considering what he’d seen the previous night, he was prepared to keep an open mind about everything.
It was a crisp December afternoon with barely a breeze and a hint of pale sunlight. No snow or frost, just a wintry sky. Scents and sounds filtered through the air with extra clarity. Across the street he saw Grant, Kyle and Zander, and caught wind of what they were saying. Not every word, just snippets — and they mentioned him!
‘Murphy’s an idiot,’ Grant said, sneering. He had blonde, spiky hair and shifty eyes.
‘Dare him to do it. We’ll time him,’ said Kyle, full of vile enthusiasm. ‘Bet he doesn’t last two minutes.’ His hair was brown with a choppy cut fringe, and all three boys wore their school ties loosely knotted to give themselves an edge of cool.
Zander was laughing at their cunning plan. His light auburn hair glinted in the sunlight and reminded Murphy of shiny copper.
They were so busy sneering at whatever cruel intentions they had planned, that they didn’t notice Murphy. He hurried on until he came to the Spider’s Web cafe.
He really liked the look of it, all black and silver with a silvery spider’s web spun across the window, complete with a glistening black spider. Inside he could see children and teenagers sitting at computers that were lit with bright neon lights, and he thought he caught a glimpse of Evie. He peered through the silver strands of the web for a closer look, but at that moment, a teenager glared out at him. He was around eighteen years old, tall, slim, rather pale with intense green eyes, and had white–blonde hair swept back from an almost flawless, unsmiling face.
Murphy looked away. The teenager made him feel uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why.
As he turned around, he saw the Secondhand Spook shop across the street. It was one of those shops that some towns have — a dark, creepy old shop that never seems to have any customers, is often closed, yet somehow survives over the years. He went over to investigate.
The life–size skeleton with its woolly scarf was dangling in the window. Its eyes came to life and secretly watched him as he read a worn and faded notice that was taped to the window. The paper had yellowed with age, and the blue ink had faded. The notice read:
PART–TIME SPOOK SHOP ASSISTANT WANTED. APPLY WITHIN.
Murphy stood outside the spook shop. Should he go inside? It was tempting, but scary too. What did a shop like this sell? Spooks? Nah! Fancy dress party gear more like.
Whoosh! A fierce gust of wind blew around him, causing his purple blazer to flap like the wings of a bat. Then the door creaked open. Dare he take a look, just step in for a moment? Come on, what harm would it do? It was broad daylight and there were plenty of people about.
Cautiously, he stepped inside and looked around.
The atmosphere was warm but creepy — and silent. There were tottering piles of books, and on one shelf, stacked beside some candle–lit lanterns that gave the shop an amber glow, was a large book with old–fashioned gold lettering printed on the dark green cover. Murphy took a deep breath and blew the layer of dust away to reveal the title — the Secondhand Spook Book.Everything you ever wanted to know about spooks but were afraid to ask, it said in small lettering. Oh how tempting it was to take a peek, but he thought better of it. Someone could be watching him. And he certainly didn’t want to risk meddling with anything in this shop.
Apart from the skeleton dangling in the window, there were lots of spiders’ webs on display. Unlike the fancy silver web on the window of the cafe, these looked particularly real. Maybe they were.
Then he noticed a very odd looking image of a scrawny young man hanging on the wall above the counter. He had a sort of ghostly appearance of a bygone era and looked slightly rusty. A copper plate at the bottom of the picture gave his name: Sneaky Creaky. Whenever Murphy’s back was turned, Sneaky Creaky shimmered strangely, like the flickering shadows from an old black and white movie reel, then became still again when he looked round.
Murphy sensed he was being watched and yet no one seemed to be in. Then he heard noises coming from the back of the shop. It was dimly lit, and he peered into the shadows. ‘Hello?’ he said in a rather wobbly voice.
There was no reply.
The skeleton and Sneaky Creaky secretly exchanged a knowing glance.
‘Boo!’ a voice piped up from behind him.
Murphy jumped and spun around to find himself face to face with the tubby little man he’d seen the night before. The jacket of his suit was rather tight and the shiny yellow buttons were under a bit of a strain. None the less, he was neat and clean, with an attitude as bright as the buttons.
‘I’m Mr Boo. Can I help you?’
Murphy’s heart was pounding at a thundering rate. ‘I eh, I’m Murphy Moss…I saw…I was just wondering, eh…what type of shop is this?’
Mr Boo smiled. ‘A secondhand spook shop.’
Murphy stared at him. ‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘I sell ghosts, basically.’
Murphy’s voice almost failed him. ‘Sell ghosts?’
‘Sell them, hire them out for a haunting,’ the man explained brightly.
The situation felt almost unreal. Here he was discussing ghosts with Mr Boo, but somehow he found the nerve to ask, ‘Why do you call them secondhand?’
‘Because they’ve all been booted out of the houses they were haunting. You know how it is...a spook’s been haunting a place for a few hundred years…then along come a family who get the heebie–jeebies and want them out. I give them a second chance, a reason for not existing.’
It was probably Mr Boo’s manner that put Murphy at ease, not completely, but enough to stop him running screaming from the shop.
‘Weird. I’ve never heard of a shop like this.’
‘It’s the only one in the world,’ the man said proudly. ‘Aren’t you scared? Most people would’ve run out screaming by now.’
Murphy considered his reply. ‘I’m…curious.’
For some reason this seemed to amuse Mr Boo. ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’
At that moment a loud, shrill meow sounded from a corner of the shop and a crazy looking cat approached them. Its fur was shades of grey and stood on end, as did the fur on its tail.
Murphy took a step back. ‘He looks vicious.’
Mr Boo nodded in agreement. ‘You’d look vicious if you’d been killed seven times. Un–Dead Fred’s only got two lives left, so everyone makes allowances.’
‘Dead as in…?’
‘Dead! He’s been squish–squashed, flattened, poisoned, shot, stabbed, drowned and strangled. Despite his past, he’s strangely popular.’
The cat’s whiskers twitched and its wild yellow eyes narrowed as it prowled towards Murphy.
‘Ah, he likes you,’ said Mr Boo.
Murphy was dubious. ‘What type of cat is he?’
‘Un–Dead Fred is the purrrfect example of a twilight cat. Not quite gone, but not all there.’
Murphy was wondering if anyone, including him, in this crazy shop was all there.
Mr Boo changed the subject. ‘So, are you interested in the job? I could do with someone to help me out in the shop part–time. What do you say? The pay is good.’
‘I didn’t come to ask about the advert in the window, but…now that you mention it, I could do with a job some nights and weekends. I used to work in a newsagents shop a few hours a week before I moved here, sorting and delivering newspapers and stacking shelves with sweets.’
‘Tell you what, if you’re interested in the job, come back tonight at six o’clock and help with the stocktaking.’
Murphy considered the offer, but he must have blinked or got distracted by the skeleton, which he was sure had shrugged its bony shoulders, because when he came to reply, Mr Boo had vanished.
With a hundred thoughts buzzing through his mind, Murphy left the shop. He was in such a rush that he almost didn’t see the man who was coming in. The man’s stylish black jacket brushed against him. It was Spider Web. He was very tall and lean, aged late twenties, and was carrying a slim grey case. He had silver hair, light grey eyes, and his face had very fine silvery scars across the cheekbones. It looked as if he’d got the scars years ago from walking through a razor sharp spider’s web. Murphy glanced at him and walked on.
From the window of the Spider’s Web, Evie saw Murphy and came hurrying out of the cafe.
‘I can’t believe you went inside that crazy shop,’ she said. ‘Do you realise they sell ghosts?’
‘I do now,’ he said.
Her eyes were wide with curiosity. ‘Did you see any spooks?’
‘No, only Mr Boo, but I’m going back tonight.’
Evie was astounded. ‘When it’s dark?’
‘I’m helping Mr Boo with the stocktaking. He’s offered me a job, but you can come with me if you want.’
Evie hesitated when she saw Grant, Kyle and Zander approaching. She whispered to Murphy, ‘They were going to dare you to go into the shop, but none of them would ever go inside. Grant says he went in once but he was lying. I went in once —’
Grant cut in. ‘You only lasted two minutes, Evie.’
‘Two minutes and fifty seconds,’ she said.
Zander sneered. ‘And you said no one was even there.’
‘Evie’s going back to the shop with me tonight,’ Murphy said in her defence.
‘Yeah, right,’ Grant said.
Evie spoke up defiantly. She’d had no intention of actually accepting Murphy’s invitation until Grant and his friends forced the issue. ‘It’s true,’ she said boldly, planning to panic later.
‘Fine,’ Grant snapped. ‘See you tomorrow at school — if you survive.’
The boys marched away.
‘So you’ll go with me tonight?’ Murphy said hopefully.
Evie sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to now, but don’t go scaring me,’ she warned him.
‘It’s a spook shop. I won’t need to scare you,’ he joked, partly to ease his own nervousness. He could just hear his mother’s reaction. During his first day, he’d managed to get himself one friend, three enemies, and a job in the creepiest shop in town.
Mr Boo and Spider Web were watching Murphy and Evie through the window of the spook shop.
‘Murphy’s a strange one,’ said Mr Boo. ‘Can you check him out on the web? Full name — Murphy Moss.’
‘Certainly.’ Spider opened up the grey case which was a weird laptop. The computer lit up with a selection of options. ‘Alive, dead, or other?’
‘Alive.’
Like lightning, Spider’s fingers tapped at the keys as he accessed the information. ‘Here we are, Murphy Moss, age twelve. Blah, blah, the usual boring stuff. Ah, seems he saw a ghost when he was nine and has a strange fascination for anything spooky.’
‘He’ll fit right into this town,’ Mr Boo said. ‘Ideal for the job.’
Spider continued to read. ‘His mother is a photo–journalist and got the offer to work for one of the newspapers in town, that’s why they relocated here. Someone apparently recommended her for the job but even she doesn’t know who it was.’ He scrolled down the pages. ‘Murphy has a deep longing to solve mysteries, such as the mystery surrounding his father. Seems there’s a hidden file on his father, Madok Moss. Definitely a shadowy character. He went missing three years ago, completely disappeared.’
‘Any details on what happened?’
Spider’s fingers rattled across the keys and the computer screen lit up with a neon blue glow. ‘The information is well hidden. All it says is that Madok was a deeply secretive man who had taken Murphy and his mother, Sylvia, to the fairground one September evening three years ago. While they were busy buying toffee apples and sticky candyfloss, Madok took a ride on the Ghost Train — and never came off it. Just disappeared into the night. Murphy’s never been able to enjoy a toffee apple since.’
3
Trespassers Will Be Haunted
It was twilight in Twilight Street. As night swallowed up the last of the day, the lights from the shops and houses lit up the street in warm, vibrant colours. Murphy was waiting for Evie underneath the fossilised lightning oak tree at the corner of the street near the Secondhand Spook shop. He looked at his watch. Two minutes to six. He was hoping she’d meet him as promised but there was no sign of her among the people going past. Surely she hadn’t had second thoughts. He’d come prepared with a small backpack stuffed with things he thought he might need, including a torch, crisps and a packet of assorted sweets. Not that the ghosts would want any. Spooks didn’t eat food — did they?
Evie came hurrying down the street, her blonde ponytail swinging wildly and her pale blue jacket flapping in the wind.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Had to explain a hundred things to my parents about why I was coming here. They’re lawyers you know,’ she added as if this explained everything.
‘My mother’s working late at the newspaper so I’ve left her a note,’ said Murphy.
‘Do you think she’ll approve of you working at a spook shop? Won’t she think it’s odd?’
‘Yes, but as a journalist she’s seen and heard lots of oddball stories.’
‘What we’re doing tonight certainly falls into that category. If we can deal with ghosts, I’m sure we can do anything,’ Evie said.
The town hall clock chimed six. It sounded like the death knell of doom, but Murphy wasn’t about to make a remark like that under the circumstances.
He took a deep breath. ‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’
Evie threw the question back at him. ‘Are you sure you are?’
He thought about it for a moment. He wasn’t sure at all, but curiosity was getting the better of him. If he got in trouble, he had the comforting thought that his house was safely across the street, and he’d worn his best scrambling–over–garden–walls clothes and training shoes just in case he had to make a run for it.
‘Ever seen a ghost?’ she said eagerly.
‘Once, when I was nine. What about you?’
Evie shook her head nervously. ‘Never.’
While they were talking, the door of the shop opened creakily on its rusty hinges as if inviting them in.
Murphy swallowed. His heart was thumping and he could tell from Evie’s wide eyed expression that she was probably more anxious than him.
She looked up at the lamp that was hanging outside the shop. It was casting a strange green glow.
‘Ready to go in?’ he asked her.
She nodded and forced a wary grin.
They stepped inside. The shop was lit with lanterns and luminous paraphernalia.
Evie’s eyes scanned the shop. There were no ghosts or anyone else that she could see.
Murphy walked over to the shop counter. ‘Hello, hello, Mr Boo?’ His voice faded into silence.
Then the shop door slammed shut behind them.
Evie looked worried. ‘I don’t think anyone’s here, let’s go.’
Murphy pointed over her shoulder.
Mr Boo was standing right behind her. He was holding two old–fashioned lamps. The lamps were lit and the flames were flickering.
She gasped and jumped over beside Murphy.
Mr Boo smiled and his eyes focussed on her from behind his spectacles. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘I brought Evie with me. Hope that’s okay,’ Murphy said.
‘Oh absolutely,’ Mr Boo said. ‘You’ll need these,’ he added hurriedly, handing them the lamps. ‘The stock room is through the back. My apologies, but I’ll have to leave you to it.Something urgent has happened. I fear one of my spooks, Lucky Eddie, is missing.’
Evie looked around her. ‘Missing?’ she said nervously, half expecting him to jump out from the shadows.
Mr Boo’s tone became serious. ‘We suspect he’s been…darkled.’ Without giving them a chance to ask what darkled was, he handed them a list and a purple ink pen. ‘Here’s a list of names — double check for Lucky Eddie. They should all be in their boxes.’
Murphy tried to sound confident even though he wasn’t. ‘We’ll do our best.’
‘If you get stuck, there’s a book on the shelf called the Secondhand Spook Book.’ He motioned towards the dark green book that looked like it hadn’t been read in years. ‘It’ll tell you everything you need to know about spooks.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’ll be back by eight. I’m going to the Creepy Castle to see if anyone knows what happened to Lucky Eddie. Do your best with the stock check, it’s the last one before the party on December 32nd.’
Evie frowned. ‘December 32nd? There are only thirty–one days in December.’
Mr Boo pointed to a strange calendar pinned on the wall. ‘Not according to our calendar.’
Murphy and Evie studied the calendar. December 32nd was clearly ringed in red and marked with the words: NIGHT OF THE DEAD.
Murphy read aloud the small print. ‘December 32nd — Night of the Dead, when all the dead meet in the dead of night.’ He paused. ‘Do you get that?’
Evie nodded. ‘Yes, that’s one party I want to miss.’
Their lamps started to flicker, as if the flames were dying. Murphy tapped the glass with his fingers. ‘Mr Boo, I think these lamps are —’
But Mr Boo had gone.
Murphy looked worriedly at Evie. ‘Did you hear the door open or close?’
‘No.’
‘Me neither.’
He took a steadying breath. ‘Stock–take?’
Evie nodded in uneasy agreement and Murphy led the way into the gloomy stock room. It smelled of dust and candle wax. Cardboard boxes were stacked neatly on the shelves. Each box had a name and number on the side.
‘How will we do this?’ Murphy said.
Evie took the list and pen. ‘You look, I’ll tick.’
Murphy thought he was getting the hardest task, but Evie didn’t seem like she was going to negotiate.
‘All right, here goes.’ Murphy lifted up a box. ‘It’s very light, it seems empty.’
‘How much do you suppose a ghost weighs? You need to look inside,’ she said, taking a large step back.
Murphy checked the name on the box. ‘Freaky Phantom.’
‘Maybe we should start with someone friendlier.’
Murphy read out the other names. ‘Mr Macabre the Horrible Highlander.’
‘Nope.’
‘He’s out on hire anyway,’ said Murphy, reading the note that was taped to the box. ‘How about Rattlebones the Skeleton…Sneaky Creaky…Raggety Wraith…Giggle Ghost the Happy Haunter…’
‘He’ll do,’ Evie said. ‘Open the box.’
Murphy took a deep breath, braced himself and tentatively lifted the lid. At that moment, a gust of wind blew their lamps out. Evie screamed.
‘Don’t panic, I’ve got a torch in my backpack,’ he said.
Murphy rummaged around in the dark.
‘Hurry up and find it,’ she shrieked.
The stock room was pitch black, not a peep of light from anywhere.
There was a lot of rustling around.
‘Evie, let go of me,’ Murphy shouted.
‘It’s not me!’ she squealed.
The rustling became more frantic. Murphy finally found the torch, switched it on and shone the light around the room. He looked about him. Everything was as it had been, except for Evie who was two shades paler. ‘Are you all right?’ he said, lighting one of the old lanterns on the shelf.
‘No, but let’s do this and then get out of here.’ She eyed the box. ‘What do you suppose Giggle Ghost looks like?’
‘I saw Mr Boo delivering spooks to the shop in his van late at night. They looked like fast moving, dazzling coloured lights.’
‘It doesn’t sound too bad,’ said Evie.
Murphy shone the torch on the box. ‘Right, here goes nothing.’ He lifted the lid and stepped back, expecting something to whiz out, but it didn’t.
Inside the box was Giggle Ghost, crumpled and motionless.
For a long moment neither of them said anything, both awestruck — seeing a ghost, a real one.
Murphy had seen a ghost before but nothing like this. In the beam of light from the torch Giggle Ghost seemed so harmless lying in his box, like a deflated yellow balloon with a quirky grin.
‘Is this like the ghost you saw when you were nine?’ Evie whispered, as if raising her voice would disturb Giggle Ghost.
‘No, the one I saw was —’ he couldn’t begin to explain what that ghost was like. It was too horrible to even think about. To this day it gave him the shudders.
‘I never thought a ghost would look so…happy... and stupid,’ said Evie.
Murphy nodded in agreement.
Without either of them noticing, Giggle Ghost pulled a face and looked quite insulted and then he became motionless again.
‘One down and a lot to go,’ Evie said, wishing they could hurry up and get out of there.
Murphy left the box open and moved on. The next box he read was labelled, Raggety Wraith. Murphy lifted the lid. Raggety Wraith was also crumpled and motionless. Somehow feeling daring, he reached in and lifted the ghost from the box. It hung there like a rag doll. ‘This one’s a bit worn and ragged.’
As he put it back in the box, Raggety Wraith exchanged a glance with Giggle Ghost, unseen by Murphy or Evie.
The next box belonged to Lucky Eddie. Murphy opened it.
‘Empty. He’s not here.’
Suddenly a freezing gust of air swirled from the box, throwing him and Evie backwards. The other boxes flew open and a whirl of ghosts screamed around them. The lamps Mr Boo had given them relit as if by magic.
In sheer panic, Murphy and Evie made a run for the door, but their escape was halted by Rattlebones the Skeleton who held his woolly gloved hands up and tried to block their exit. They turned to flee from the skeleton, but were surrounded by the four other spooks.
A tall, green spook, shouted angrily, ‘What do you mean, Lucky Eddie’s not here?’
Evie froze in terror. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move.
Murphy’s heart was thundering, and yet…there was something about these spooks that was extraordinarily amusing. Giggle Ghost had a fit of the giggles, Raggety Wraith was a dishevelled looking dimwit, one of them looked rusty and almost as frightened as he was, and the skeleton’s woolly gloves and scarf took the edge of his scariness. As for the tall, green ghost…well…he was different — he looked mean and was clearly upset about Lucky Eddie being missing. Murphy rightly surmised this was the Freaky Phantom because he was the same colour as the label on the box he’d been in.
The green phantom bent down and looked Murphy straight in the eyes. ‘Don’t make me repeat myself.’
Evie was shaking, but if there was one thing she hated more than anything — it was a big bully. ‘Stop shouting at him!’ she yelled defiantly.
The other spooks gasped in horror at someone so small shouting at the Freaky Phantom.
The Phantom turned and focussed his attention on her, but as he opened his green mouth to speak, Murphy shouted, ‘Leave her alone!’
There was another gasp from the spooks.
For a nerve racking moment it seemed like Murphy and Evie were in danger of being cornered by the spooks. However, the Freaky Phantom calmed his anger, and through admiration of their bravery he spoke in a reasonable voice. ‘You’re free to go, but Lucky Eddie is a friend of ours. Do you know what’s happened to him?’
Evie shook her head and looked at the various spooks surrounding them. Five in all — the Freaky Phantom, Rattlebones the Skeleton, Raggety Wraith, Sneaky Creaky and Giggle Ghost the Happy Haunter.
The Freaky Phantom had a wicked smile, and for a spook he was almost handsome. Although he was one hundred years dead, he had a modern attitude. He was very tall, very green, and more than a little bit freaky, with a smooth voice and a sharp wit.
‘We’re worried about Lucky Eddie,’ giggled Giggle Ghost, a round, bright yellow fellow, light as air and full of utter nonsense.
‘He giggles all the time,’ the skeleton explained. ‘Even when he’s serious.’
Murphy summoned up all the strength he could find, but his voice was rather wobbly. ‘Mr Boo’s gone to search for him.’
Raggety Wraith, a former acrobat who did one flip too many, stepped forward.His clothes were ragged, baggy and the scruffiest Murphy had ever seen. ‘Where has he gone? Perhaps we can help.’
Murphy racked his brain for the name of the castle. ‘Some weird castle —’
‘The Creepy Castle,’ Evie said.
‘Sebastian Knight,’ Sneaky Creaky muttered in a rather timid voice. ‘A fat lot of good he’ll be.’ Sneaky was sort of creaky and a bit worse the wear for a fairly young man, if his features were anything to go by. He was, however, over two hundred years old — and the colour of rust and ruin.
‘Mr Boo thinks he may have been darkled,’ Murphy said.
The spooks were shocked.
Rattlebones collapsed into a heap of bones. He’d a tendency to do this whenever he was rattled. ‘Oh how dreadful,’ he said, pulling himself back together.For a skeleton, he really did have class.
‘What’s darkled?’ Murphy said.
‘Darkle,’ the Freaky Phantom said, ‘is the time between twilight and darkness.The Darkles are three treacherous ghosts who dwell in the Darkle–lands. They’re very powerful and very evil. If they ever get their claws into you and drag you off to the Darkle–lands you’ll never be seen again.’
‘So darkled isn’t good,’ Evie said.
The Freaky Phantom shook his head. ‘No, it’s not good at all.’
Everyone looked at each other. It was as if in that moment, Murphy and Evie had pushed their fear aside to answer reasonably, and the spooks were talking to them as if the situation was as usual as cornflakes on toast (a favourite breakfast for the spooks).
‘You’re free to go,’ the Freaky Phantom told them.
‘We haven’t finished the stocktaking,’ said Murphy. ‘I don’t want to mess up on my first day in a new job.’
Rattlebones the Skeleton picked up the purple pen from the floor and ticked the names on the list. ‘Everyone’s accounted for, except poor Lucky Eddie.’ He gave the list to Murphy. ‘The ticks are a bit scribbly, but I can’t write properly with these woolly gloves on.’
‘Take them off,’ Evie suggested.
Rattlebones shivered. ‘Get’s a bit chilly in December. Don’t want frostbite.’
‘December 32nd is marked on the calendar in the shop, but December only has thirty–one days. What’s the thirty–second?’ Murphy said.
‘Obviously there are a lot of things you don’t know,’ said Giggle Ghost.‘You should read the Secondhand Spook Book.’
‘You’ll need to learn about spooks if you’re going to work here,’ said Raggety Wraith. ‘You too,’ he said to Evie.
‘I’m just here because —’
Giggle Ghost giggled. ‘Because you’re nosey.’
Murphy and the others laughed.
‘I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that,’ she said sharply.
‘You were here before,’ said Sneaky Creaky. ‘You lasted two minutes fifty seconds.’
‘That’s right. How did you know?’ Evie said.
‘We were watching you,’ confessed Sneaky.
Evie’s nostrils flared. ‘And you didn’t say a word!’
‘If we had,’ Sneaky reasoned with her, ‘you wouldn’t have lasted five seconds.’
‘You’re not so scary you know,’ Evie snapped.
The Freaky Phantom whispered to Murphy, ‘Got a bit of temper on her, eh?’
Murphy nodded and smiled.
‘Well,’ Evie said, ‘if we’re going to hang out here, we’d better start reading the Secondhand Spook Book.’ She marched off into the shop to read it.
The Freaky Phantom whispered again to Murphy, ‘A bit bossy too.’
Mr Boo drove up to the Creepy Castle in his van. The castle was steeped in an eerie glow and the deep dark water of the surrounding moat glistened like liquid liquorice.A sign outside the gates read:
CREEPY CASTLE.KEEP OUT.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE HAUNTED.
Two huge stone wolfhounds stood on guard on either side of the gates. As Mr Boo drove past, the dogs sprang to life and prowled after the van.
He got out of the van and walked up the large stone steps to the front door of the castle.
He rang the bell on the fortress style door which had a gargoyle carved into the wood. The sound echoed loudly within the vast castle. He cast a wary glance at the hounds prowling nearby. While he watched the hounds, the gargoyle’s eyes blinked into life and someone stared out at him. Moments later, the door opened slowly. A ghostly old butler, in various shades of transparent grey, stood in the doorway.
Mr Boo smiled. ‘Good evening, Fossil, I need to speak to Sebastian Knight.’
‘Certainly, Mr Boo. Please do come in.’
Mr Boo stepped inside the grand hallway. It was quite spectacular. Shining swords and shields hung on the walls and were lit by burning torches.
‘Follow me, Sir,’ said Fossil as he glided away. ‘He’s busy slaying imaginary dragons in the main hall. Used to enjoy a little swordsmanship when I was younger — still do when my creaky old joints are up to it.’
Mr Boo followed Fossil to the main hall. The hall doors were open. Resident ghost, Sebastian Knight, was swinging a sword about wildly in front of a roaring log fire. He was a fairly handsome young man, wearing a suit of armour and an arrogant grin.
Fossil coughed politely to announce their arrival.
Sebastian was startled. The sword he was wielding flew out of his hand, went straight through Fossil and stuck in the wall.
Fossil didn’t even bat a whisker. ‘Mr Boo is here to see you, Sir.’
Sebastian Knight glared angrily at Mr Boo. Fossil glided away.
‘What do you want, Boo?’ he demanded.
‘Lucky Eddie’s gone missing. I’m worried the Darkles have got him. We can’t find him anywhere.’
Ever dutiful, though a sheer troublemaker, Sebastian agreed to help. ‘I’ll send the dogs out — and let you know if I hear anything.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mr Boo. ‘The Darkles are an evil lot. If they’ve got their claws into Eddie, I fear for the young lad’s safety. I shudder to think that he’s been…darkled.’
‘Was he taking a shortcut through Nightshade Wynd again?’ Sebastian said accusingly. ‘You know how dangerous it is this time of year.’
Mr Boo’s expression was grim. ‘I hope he wasn’t in that horrible wynd,’ he said. Strange things happened there. People went missing, and even ghosts were spooked by its dark monstrous shadows.
Sebastian picked up another sword and used the tip to ring a bell to summon his butler.
Fossil glided into the hall. ‘You rang, Sir?’
‘Mr Boo was just leaving. Show him to the door — and don’t let the dogs bite him this time.’
‘No need, Fossil,’ said Mr Boo. ‘I brought the cat with me.’
Sebastian sneered and looked down his nose at him. ‘A cat? One measly cat against two giant wolfhounds – pleeeease.’
Mr Boo corrected him. ‘Un–Dead Fred against two giant wolfhounds — I know who my money’s on.’
Sebastian gulped down any further comment. As they left, he whispered to his butler, ‘Warn the dogs, Fossil. That cat’s quite mad.’
4
Rules for Ghouls
The cold December night had a strange undercurrent of excitement and there was a haunting chill in the air. The spook shop shone a welcoming glow as Mr Boo and Un–Dead Fred arrived back. He was most impressed to see that Murphy and Evie had successfully handled an encounter with the Secondhand Spooks, and thanked them for helping with the stocktaking.
‘So, do you want the job, Murphy? Could you work an hour after school when the shop’s busy? I really need an assistant.’
Murphy looked at the spooks. They were nodding for him to agree. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Good. Come back tomorrow. Lots of deliveries to be sorted,’ Mr Boo said, smiling, but clearly there were other things on his mind.
‘Any news of Lucky Eddie?’ said Murphy.
Mr Boo shook his head sadly. ‘We’ll be going out later tonight to search for him.’
‘Can I help?’ Murphy offered.
‘We won’t be leaving until thirteen o’clock. A bit too late for youngsters.’
Murphy frowned. ‘Thirteen o’clock? I’ve never heard of a time like that.’
‘Spooks have a thirteenth hour on their clocks to give them extra time for haunting.’ Mr Boo reached up and lifted the Secondhand Spook Book off the shelf. ‘Take this with you. If you’re going to work here you’ll need to learn about spooks. But remember, don’t read the book late at night. It’s rather scary.’
Murphy clutched the book eagerly. He could hardly wait to go home and read it.
‘Well,’ said Mr Boo, ‘we’d better try and find Lucky Eddie before we get a visit from the Spectre Inspector.’
The spooks trembled at the thought of him.
‘Who’s the Spectre Inspector?’ Evie said.
‘He ensures that the rules for ghouls are obeyed,’ said Mr Boo. ‘He’s mentioned in the book. Not a pleasant sort of man.’ He sighed wearily.
‘See you tomorrow,’ said Murphy, sensing it was time to leave.
After Murphy and Evie left, the skeleton’s bony hand peeled the job vacancy notice off the shop window and scrunched it into a papery ball.
The frosty night air had an extra bite to it, and the wind seemed to whisper a warning but everyone was too busy to listen. People were pouring into the Pitchstone cinema and the Spider’s Web cafe was buzzing with customers.
Murphy and Evie walked along Twilight Street trying to read the book full of ghostly secrets. The wind kept blowing the pages over but Murphy managed to read some of the chapter titles. ‘THE CREEPY CASTLE.SKELETONS IN THE CUPBOARD. SPOOKY SECRETS —’
‘Read some of them,’ said Evie.
‘There’s an entire chapter on secrets,’ he said, reading the contents list. He wished he had the ability to speed read, or have four pairs of eyes so that he could read everything at once and look at the pictures at the same time. Some of the pages were luminous green and glowing orange and purple, and a few of the margins were edged with a shadowy blue mist. He flicked through the pages and stopped at the chapter about the Creepy Castle. There were pictures of the castle dungeons, its black water moat and large stone wolfhounds prowling the grounds. There were also pictures of the grand hall, which looked magnificent, and a caption said this was where the December 32nd party was held.
He continued to flick through the book and saw a chapter called HAUNTED HALLOWE’EN that mentioned ghost trains and fairgrounds and sticky toffee apples. It reminded him of the last time he’d seen his father.
They were so engrossed in the book and its fantastic illustrations and swirling mist that they didn’t notice the lights in the sky above the Pitchstone cinema. Not at first.
‘Did you see that?’ Evie said, suddenly noticing the ghostly shadows and lights.
Murphy didn’t know if he was imagining it or not but he thought he saw a man in a long dark coat soaring over the roof of the cinema. And red lights like fireflies were darting above the building and then seemed to disappear.
‘This is a weird town,’ Murphy said.
‘A weird street,’ said Evie. ‘Twilight Street’s always been mysterious. Mystery Park is scary and Nightshade Wynd is supposed to be haunted, but other parts of the town are almost normal. I live in Copperwick Drive and it’s rather boring. It just seems to be this particular street that attracts mysteries like a magnet.’
Murphy looked at the Pitchstone at the far end of the street. He liked mysteries, always had. Bright neon signs lit up the front of the cinema, and the rooftop had a haunting blue glow. His eyes searched the night sky for the fireflies — and the man.
‘I’m sure I saw a man above the roof,’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound stupid.
‘Wearing a long dark coat?’
Murphy gulped.
‘Ravensffeer,’ said Evie, her voice a confiding whisper. ‘He’s the cinema projectionist I was telling you about. The one who’s supposed to be two hundred years old.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
Evie gave him one of those oh you think so looks. ‘We’ve just been talking to spooks.’
‘All right, I get your point,’ he said.
Evie continued to tell him about Ravensffeer. ‘He really only looks about thirty years old, despite having white hair. Apparently when he was young his hair was as black as a raven, but as he got older his hair turned grey, then silver and then white.’
‘Very strange,’ said Murphy.
‘The Pitchstone’s even stranger since they rebuilt part of it two months ago — something about finding old bones deep down in the gothic foundations. I’m going to write a story about it for the school newspaper.’ Then a better idea struck her. ‘I should write about the Secondhand Spooks.’
As she said this, the Secondhand Spook Book flew out of Murphy’s hands, did a triple somersault in the air and landed on her head, flattening her ponytail and causing her to see stars.
Murphy thought it was a sign that she shouldn’t write anything about the spooks, not ever.
‘Are you all right, Evie?’
She rubbed her head where the book had struck her. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said irritably.
‘I didn’t throw the book,’ he said, trying to explain what had happened. ‘It just flew out of my hands.’
Evie sighed heavily. ‘I’ve had enough excitement for one night. I’m going home. See you tomorrow at school.’ She walked away, her ponytail not quite as bouncy as it had been earlier.
Murphy ran across to his house. Unlike Evie, he wanted more excitement tonight. He’d a book full of ghostly secrets to read.
A light shone from one of the downstairs windows of his house. The house looked quite creepy he thought; gothic buildings had that sort of feeling, but his attic room seemed cosy. His mother had fallen asleep on the sofa so he decided he’d talk to her in the morning about working at the Secondhand Spook shop. Right now, he’d only one thought in mind — read the book!
The Secondhand Spooks were getting ready to search for Lucky Eddie. Each spook agreed to take a different route and then meet back at the shop.
An unusual clock on the wall of the shop began to chime and the clock face lit up as it struck thirteen.
‘Time to go,’ the Freaky Phantom said.
Giving each other the thumbs up, the spooks flew off at high speed across the rooftops, through the trees and beyond the shadow of the moon.
They looked like fireworks — green, blue, orange, yellow and white — whizzing out of the shop and into the night. The skeleton could be heard rattling as his bones picked up speed and his woolly scarf flapped like a flag in the wind.
Mr Boo watched anxiously as they soared off into the distance — and Un–Dead Fred went out on the prowl.
Murphy was reading the book late at night. He knew he wasn’t supposed to but he’d taken the precaution of reading the message inside the front cover, which read: A Word of Warning — Beware. If you are a nervous nitwit or a jittery jelly, close this book at once. It is full of spooky secrets and haunting shadows. If you have nightmares after reading it, it’s probably your own fault. Don’t say you haven’t been warned. PS — this book can cause strange things to happen. Lights may flicker and dim and a cold creepy wind could whoosh through your house. We’d recommend wearing a woolly jumper, especially at this time of year. Oh yes, the book updates itself, so if you’re reading this, it’s December, so make sure you wrap up warmly. Things could get very chilly.