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|Ghosts (standard:Ghost stories, 2363 words)|
|Author: Ian Hobson||Added: Jul 25 2004||Views/Reads: 2388/1360||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|'Behave myself?' exclaimed Bosworth, indignantly. 'I'm a ghost! I'm supposed to get up to mischief.'|
Ghosts ©2004 Ian Hobson Bella lay in the center of the four-poster bed, her eyes closed, her head cradled in her hands, daydreams of a past life going through her mind. Bosworth, her companion of many years, dislodged a little soot as he summersaulted out of the old cast-iron fireplace and sprang to his feet, having taken a favourite shortcut via the large stone fireplace in the dinning room. 'Wake up, Sleepyhead. Two new guests on the way up: Honeymooners!' 'How do you know they're honeymooners?' asked Bella. She opened her eyes and stretched, as though waking from a deep sleep; then floated off the end of the bed and stood and straightened her nightgown. 'Just checked in. I saw 'em. Two young 'uns. Down at the front desk.' Bosworth leaped to the top of one of the posts at the foot of the bed and, wrapping his arms and legs around it, he spiralled slowly downwards, grinning through the gaps in his teeth. 'I'll bet you he carries her over the threshold... drops her on the bed and...' 'And what?' 'You know, Bell... Gives her the old one-two.' Bosworth sat cross-legged on the corner of the bed and rubbed his hands together. 'You filthy wretch!' Bella grabbed Bosworth by his shirt collar and pulled him off the bed. 'You think you're going to watch! Get yourself through that wall before I give you the old one-two.' 'Aw, you're such a spoilsport,' sulked Bosworth, allowing Bella to propel him through the wall and into the next room, where a chambermaid was making the bed. As the maid leaned over and tucked in the sheets and blankets, Bosworth crept up behind her and was about to pinch her bottom, but his hand was soon snatched away. Bella propelled him through another wall and out into a corridor. 'I've told you before! Leave the maids alone.' 'I was only going to...' 'I know what you were only going to! Have you forgotten that on our wedding day, you promised to be faithful to me; not to go pinching other women's bottoms!' 'Until death us do part, I promised... I didn't realise that after death we'd still be... Ouch, don't kick, that hurts!' 'Well learn to behave yourself, then.' 'Behave myself?' exclaimed Bosworth, indignantly. 'I'm a ghost! I'm supposed to get up to mischief.' 'Mischief's one thing. Hanky-panky's another. We'll come back after dark, if you like. But not if they're... you know what.' 'Can we?' Bosworth rubbed his hands together. 'Good. Then we'll have some fun, eh?' 'Are you sure they're honeymooners, Bosworth?' 'Oh, yes... the lass has still got confetti in her hair, and the lad's got a twinkle in his eye. Room twenty-niners for sure... We'll give 'em a wedding night to remember, eh?' *** 'Here we are, sir, madam; Room twenty-n... err, the Honeymoon Suite.' Old Arthur, the porter, pushed the door open wide and lifted the two heavy suitcases into the room. 'Best room in the hotel, this. There was fire in here during the war; so most of the furniture, and the carpet and that, are still quite new. It was me what called the fire brigade out, you know. I was on ARP duty.' Click here to read the rest of this story (288 more lines)
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