I Kissed A Ghoul And I Liked It - A ghost story for Halloweeen

[r_scribbles]

Hey hey! I've done an Original Short Story! It was for pulped_fictions Halloween Challenge Fest, but I'm posting it here too, because I'm rather proud of it. It's about 3K words.

Title: I Kissed A Ghoul And I Liked It
Challenge: Pulped Fictions - Trick Or Treat
Genre: Comedy, Ghost Story
Rating/Warnings: Rated 15 for swears & heavy sexual references - no explicit scenes, though
Summary: Socially awkward & recently heartbroken; when Brian makes a connection with a girl at his sister's Halloween party he's sure there has to be a catch. He's right.
Author's/Artist's Note: Prompts were 'ghost story, comedy, ghoul, pumpkin'. Hope you enjoy it.


Magda opened the door, and froze in horror.

‘Jesus, Brian, what the fuck?’

Brian tugged a little at the oversized silver lamé collar that was already chafing his neck. ‘What? You don’t like my costume?’

‘You’re dressed as Gary Glitter.’

‘The invitation did say to come as a monster.’

‘Yes,’ hissed Magda. ‘Like Dracula or the Gruffalo. Not a sodding paedophile!’

Brian shuffled into the house – not an easy task in three-inch platforms. ‘Not my fault your instructions were open to interpretation.’

‘All it takes,’ retorted Magda, slamming the door shut and following him through the hallway, ‘is the tiniest shred of social skill and knowhow. Clearly, you still don’t have any.’ She rubbed her face in exasperation. ‘This is like the Christmas when you exhumed the cat.’

‘I was seven,’ protested Brian.

‘And you still haven’t changed,’ Magda replied. She signalled for him to go through into the living room, giving his glittering outfit another despairing once-over as he did so. ‘I knew you’d do something like this.’

Brian looked around Magda’s living room – festooned with black bunting, crammed with snacks, devoid of people. He was, apparently, the first guest to arrive. Perfect. Just perfect.

‘Why did you invite me, then?’ Brian sighed.

‘You know why,’ Magda snapped. ‘Let’s not feel the need to spell it out.’

‘You just invited me because you feel sorry for me,’ Brain replied, ‘didn’t you?’

‘Looks like you did feel the need to spell it out.’ Magda shook her head. ‘I need to mix the punch. Try not to ruin the buffet.’

If Brian had felt self-conscious on the way to the party dressed as a be-flared, shimmering rapist, then he felt even more so now, standing on his own amongst the crudités. He dunked a Dorito into what he assumed was some sort of tasty cheese dip and delicately spat it back into the palm of his hand when he discovered it was puree of pumpkin. The doorbell chimed and Brian heard Magda dashing from the kitchen to the front door. He hurriedly disposed of the half-chewed mush in his hand and was still looking for a napkin to wipe his palm clean when Magda swept into the room with a sweet-faced, Menopausal Bride of Frankenstein and an obese skeleton.

‘Make yourselves at home, please,’ twinkled Magda as the Frankenstein Bride’s expression turned acid at the sight of Brian’s costume.

‘This is my office manager, Shirley,’ continued Magda hurriedly, and her husband Jeff. Jeff, Shirley, this is my brother, Brian.’

‘Oh,’ sighed Shirley in sudden understanding. ‘So this is Brian.’

‘Evening, Brian.’ Jeff grabbed Brian’s hand and pumped it, cheerfully. ‘What have you come as then, eh? Some sort of Space Clown…? Oh.’ Jeff pulled his hand away from Brian’s, and inspected the orange mush now congealing in his palm with disgust.

Brian smiled, joylessly. It was going to be a long night.

-x-

‘Why are you such a twat?’

An hour in to Magda’s party, all the guests had arrived, giving Brian around two-dozen new opportunities to be socially awkward. The outfit certainly didn’t help matters, but it was also painfully obvious to all of Magda’s friends that her lonely brother was only there as a pity invite. Whenever he did manage to talk with anyone, they’d either say ‘oh, you’re Brian’ in that same “well-that-explains-a-lot” tone as Shirley had, or express vague sympathy for his splitting up with his girlfriend - which was perturbing, since these were complete strangers who shouldn’t by rights know that Lorraine had recently left him, keeping custody of the ferret, the Fiat and all the friends. Brian was starting to realise that his sister discussed his personal life with her friends an awful lot.

‘Why are you,’ he demanded of his reflection in the bathroom mirror for a second time, ‘such a twat?’

Again, his reflection had no response to his accusations of twattery. He sighed and ground his forehead against the mirror for a moment.

‘Because you just are,’ he explained to himself. ‘Twat, twat, shitting TWAT!’

All twatted out, he rubbed his face and centred himself with a final, loud ‘what’s wrong with me?’ - before opening the bathroom door and practically colliding with a Chinese Morticia Addams and a Devil in a minidress.

‘I don’t know, dear,’ snorted the Devil Girl as Morticia giggled silently to herself, ‘maybe you’re not eating enough roughage?’

The two women collapsed into laughter as they pushed past him into the bathroom together.

Shit. He’d thought he was making OK progress with Minidress Devil Girl, too. Sitting on the stairs was a girl in a Flower Power kaftan and love beads. He hadn’t even spoken to her yet, and she was already laughing at him. He stepped over her as gracefully as he could in his ridiculous platform shoes.

‘Sorry,’ giggled the girl as he passed. ‘That was funny.’

‘Yeah,’ grumbled Brian. ‘Har-dee-har-har.’

‘You’re funny,’ added the Hippie Girl. ‘Come on, sit and talk with me. I don’t really know anyone here either.’

Brian paused on the stairs and looked back at her.

‘Unless you’ve got some groovy chick waiting downstairs in anticipation for you,’ added the Hippie with a grin.

‘You’re dressed all wrong,’ was all that Brian could think to reply. ‘Hippies aren’t monsters.’

The girl glanced down at her attire. ‘Try telling that to Richard Nixon,’

Brian sucked through his teeth, ‘I so nearly came as Nixon tonight. Of course, nobody would know who I was supposed to be, but at least I wouldn’t be trying to socialise dressed as a tinfoil kiddie fiddler.’

‘Can I ask you something?’

Brian opened his mouth to reply, but the Hippie steamrollered on – evidently, her question had been rhetorical.

‘If you think your costume is so embarrassing, why did you come in it in the first place?’

Brian sat down on the stairs next to her. ‘Because I thought it was funny.’

‘But you don’t any more?’

‘Not now I’m in public, no.’ He paused. ‘I’m not always that great at gauging what other people are going to think…’

‘Sometimes you feel like everyone else has an invisible set of instructions on how to behave, and you don’t have one?’ Ventured the Hippie.

‘Yeah,’ sighed Brian.

‘I used to feel like that sometimes too,’ the Hippie added. ‘But then I decided – who wants to live life by the book? Other people can do their thing, I’ll do mine. Who cares what they all think?’

‘Oh, I tell myself that sometimes too,’ Brian replied. ‘But when you’ve just been dumped by your girlfriend of three years because she just can’t stand the embarrassing situations any more, you do find it a little harder than usual to ignore it when you stick out like a sore thumb.’

‘A sharp kick to the ego.’ The Hippie smiled to herself with an arched eyebrow. ‘That’ll explain why you were swearing to yourself in the bathroom.’

Brian winced. ‘So, you heard that, too…’

‘You should mellow out, Brian. Sounds like it’s monogamy that’s made you miserable rather your outlook. That’s why I don’t bother with it any more. Not for a long time.’

Brian gazed at her. She was fairly pretty, even without the slightest lick of make-up, although the permanent grin splitting her face gave him the creeps a little. She seemed terribly pleased with herself, whoever she was… after all; he didn’t even know her name. He blinked, remembering something she’d just said.

‘You called me Brian.’

‘Would you rather I called you something else?’

‘I never told you my name.’

‘I know,’ she smiled.

Morticia and Devil Girl came out of the bathroom and went down the stairs together, giving Brian and the Hippie girl very odd looks as they stepped over them.

‘Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private,’ suggested the Hippie, getting to her feet.

‘Um,’ replied Brian, not entirely sure where, if anywhere, this was leading, ‘OK.’

He led the way into a small spare bedroom that was being used as a temporary cloakroom for the night. He sat on the coat-covered bed while she leaned against the wall, watching him with that same unsettling, knowing grin.

‘So, how do you know my name?’

‘I’ve been watching you. And listening to your sister talk about you.’

‘That’s a little… creepy.’

‘Well, creepy’s sort-of in my job description.’

Brian scoffed. ‘What are you then; a spy?’

‘No,’ replied the Hippie, matter-of-factly. ‘I’m dead.’

Brian regarded her for a moment, slack-jawed, before blinking out of it. ‘Oh, I get it – a spooky back-story making up for your non-Halloweeny costume.’

‘This isn’t a costume,’ the girl smiled, plainly, ‘these are the clothes I died in.’ She extended a cheerful hand. ‘Betty Teacakes. 1944 to 1968.’

Brian shook her hand, warily. ‘You reckon you’ve been dead for more than forty years.’

‘Yeah,’ grinned Betty. ‘Missed the Summer of Love by a matter of months. Talk about a bummer.’ She paused. ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

Brian shook his head.

‘Oh well,’ shrugged Betty, ‘I suppose that’s your business.’

‘So, what would you be, then, if you were dead?’ Brian asked. ‘A ghost?’

‘Something like that,’ replied Betty. ‘I don’t really like to think in terms of labels, though. They get me down.’

‘A ghost. At a party.’

‘At a Halloween party,’ Betty clarified, as though that made it sound perfectly normal, ‘although I do like to show up to housewarmings and barbeques too – I like parties.’

‘And what does a dead girl do at a party?’

‘Same thing a living girl does at a party,’ Betty told him. ‘Have a good time. Dance, chat, flirt, suck cock…’

Brian blinked. ‘What?’

‘OK,’ Betty shrugged, ‘so maybe that last one’s a little bit Out There, but that happens to be my gauge of a good party.’

Brian stared at her for a moment, then got up off the bed, shaking his head. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘What?’

‘Taking the piss out of me.’

‘I’m not!’ Betty protested.

‘Look,’ continued Brian, ‘whatever the big joke is, you might as well just come out and say it, because I’ve had enough of playing.’

‘I’m not playing,’ Betty told him, ‘I’m telling the truth.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Brian pushed the door handle to leave.

‘I really like you,’ Betty added, suddenly. ‘You’re all awkward and sad…’

‘Is that the joke?’ Brian asked. ‘Very funny. You should do stand-up. ‘Scuse me…’

‘But that’s why I like you,’ Betty added. ‘And that’s why you’re not really going to leave now.’

Brian frowned at her, his hand still frozen on the door handle.

‘Because you’re intrigued,’ smiled Betty, ‘you’re a little bit desperate and, as we established already, you’re quite inappropriate, so I really don’t think you’d turn down the offer of a good, old fashioned cock-sucking, even if it was from a dead stranger in your sister’s spare bedroom.’

Brian’s hand fell from the handle. ‘But, you’re not dead.’

Betty shrugged. ‘Whatever turns you on, Brian. Come and sit down on the bed again.’

Still frowning, he did as she had instructed. She placed a friendly hand on his knee. There was a coldness to her touch that froze right through his lamé flares. He sucked through his teeth a little at the feel of her icy hands.

‘Yeah,’ Betty explained, running her cold fingers up his thigh, ‘this is going to feel a bit different.’

‘Because you’re “dead”.’

‘Naturally. I’ve been told it’s sort-of tingly – like being fellated by someone with a mouth full of Listerine.’

‘That just sounds painful…’

‘Trust me. It’s meant to be very enjoyable. And I was pretty damned good at giving head back when I was alive to start with.’

‘I…’ worried Brian as she worked her way up to his crotch, ‘I’m not really sure how you get in to this jumpsuit… couldn’t find the fly in the toilet earlier, had to take the whole thing off…’

‘I’ll work it out,’ smiled Betty. ‘Just relax.’

-x-

‘I enjoyed that.’ Betty lay back on the bed next to him, that same, eerie grin still fixed on her face.

Brian exhaled deeply, savouring the moments that had just passed. ‘It was good – really good. And, you were right – it was like you’d just rinsed with Listerine.’

‘Told you.’

He turned to her, propping himself up on his elbow. ‘What would you like me to do for you?’

‘You mean, Down There?’ Betty laughed, lightly. ‘That’s sweet of you, Brian, but my orgasming days are long gone. Death’s funny like that.’

Brian sighed tersely, and started pulling his jumpsuit back on. ‘When are you going to tell me who you really are…?’

The door to the spare room was suddenly flung wide open. Brian looked up, startled, fumbling to pull the costume back over his shoulders.

There was a figure in the doorway, a silhouette in the hall light to eyes accustomed to the gloom of the darkened spare room.

‘Brian?’ barked the figure.

‘Magda,’ panicked Brian. ‘Look, this isn’t…’

‘What the Hell are you doing in there?’

‘It’s not what it looks like,’ Brian continued to blither. ‘We got talking, we fancied a bit of privacy and…’

‘Who’s “we”?’ Magda indicated around the room. ‘There’s no one else here.’

Brian turned his head to the spot next to him on the bed where Betty had just been. Magda was right – it was empty. There wasn’t even a dint in the duvet where she had laid. He got to his feet, scanning the room, going so far as to open up the small wardrobe. Betty wasn’t there. Had she snuck out when Magda had opened the door? How would she have done that without either of them noticing…?

‘But,’ he stammered, ‘but…’

Magda clucked and ushered him out of the room. ‘Come out of there. And stop talking to yourself – you’re starting to worry people.’

‘Talking to myself…?’ echoed Brian, following his sister down the stairs.

‘Yes, Brian,’ replied Magda, wearily, ‘like you just were in there. And lots of guests said they saw you doing the same thing on the stairs before that.’

‘No I wasn’t! There was a girl… but she’s disappeared…’

‘How convenient.’

‘There was,’ protested Brian. ‘The girl who came dressed as a Hippie.’

‘Nice try, Brian, but this isn’t a Retro themed party. There aren’t any Hippies here – just monsters.’

‘You must have seen her,’ continued Brian, peering around the kitchen for Betty’s bright kaftan in vain. ‘Blondish hair, quite skinny… called herself Betty Teacakes, although I can’t imagine for a second that was her real name…’

‘Betty Teacakes?’ Magda turned sharply to face her brother. ‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘What? Why?’

Magda’s husband Phil sidled into the conversation. ‘That’s the name of our gu-gu-gu-ghost. The guys we bought the house off told us all about her. Some girl who died here in the 60s – got so high on drugs that she thought she could fly down the stairs. She’s supposed to make appearances at parties – all a load of rubbish, of course.’

‘Oh,’ muttered Brian. So the girl had been making fun of him. ‘I suppose everybody knows about this “ghost”, right?’

‘Well, now they do,’ Magda grumbled. ‘We were supposed to be keeping the story secret 'til midnight – for effect. Phil and me were going to do a funny little skit about it, but of course you’ve ruined that now. Who told you about it?’

‘Um…’ Brian faltered. He could feel his palms becoming moist with sweat.

‘They say when they did the post-mortem on her,’ continued Phil, gleefully, ‘they found semen from twelve different men in her stomach…’

‘Honestly, Phil,’ warned Magda. ‘I mean, how would they even be able to work something like that out?’

‘I dunno,’ Phil shrugged. ‘Maybe with DNA testing and…’

‘What,’ interrupted Magda, ‘in the 60s?’

Brian suddenly felt very hot, and more than a little nauseous. What if the girl hadn’t been playing a game with him… what if she’d simply been telling the truth? Oh God, and he’d sort-of had sex with her, too. For Christ’s sake – his penis still felt all minty-fresh from their odd little tryst. What sort of pervert did that make him? Was he going to have to go on some sort of register?

He made a few wobbly backwards steps towards the back door. ‘I need some air.’

‘Now what are you doing?’ Magda asked. ‘Haven’t you caused enough of a scene?’

Something within Brian snapped. ‘I just need air! That’s all! It’s not a slight on your party, Magda, and it’s not a social failing on my part. You don’t need to criticise me for it and I don’t need to apologise for it. I just. Need. Air.’

He hurried out through the back door and into the garden, slamming it behind him before he could be subjected to his sister’s apoplectic response. He took a few deep, calming breaths of chilly, late October night air. They did him very little good, however, since as he inhaled slowly for the fourth time, he saw something that made his heart leap to his throat.

Betty Teacakes, wide, eerie grin and all, was sitting cross-legged next to the hardy perennials.

‘Hello, Brian,’ she smiled.

‘Betty,’ he breathed. ‘Betty, you’re… are you a…?’

‘You can’t say you weren’t fairly warned,’ Betty replied. ‘It’s not my fault you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘So it’s all true?’

‘Well, I fell down the stairs – I never thought I could actually fly,’ Betty told him, ‘but mainly, yes. Except for that stuff about the different semen – I don’t know where that came from. I mean, how would they even be able to tell?’

‘No one else can see or hear you, can they?’

‘Not tonight,’ said Betty. ‘Tonight I just wanted to be there for you.’

‘And what we did…’ Brian dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Is that allowed?’

‘Probably not, technically,’ she answered, ‘but then I’ve never really been one for rules – have you?’ She paused. ‘You still want to know why I did it, don’t you? But I already told you before – it was just because I like you. Not in a Boyfriend Girlfriend way – that wouldn’t be possible even if I did go in for that sort of thing.’

‘So… will I ever see you again?’

‘Who can say?’ Betty shrugged, happily. ‘Who can say that you’ll want to? You know, that chick in the devil dress thinks you’re pretty cute.’

‘She thinks I’m an idiot.’

‘Maybe she thinks idiots are cute.’

‘I’d rather stay out here with you.’

Betty got up, gave him a fond smile and kissed him lightly on the mouth, leaving that same cold, tingling feeling on his lips.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Brian.’ She nodded at the kitchen window and the party carrying on within. ‘Go back to the land of the living.’

He stared at the window. People talking, getting to know each other, having fun… yes. Yes, he’d go back in. He turned to thank the girl, but she was gone.

-x-

Invisible to all the living once again, she watched him as he approached the girl in the devil dress. She was glad that she had chosen him. She hated seeing nice guys so stripped of confidence. She’d liked his style from the start; maybe now he’d had a little boost, he’d have enough poise to carry it off.

The devil dress girl laughed at one of his jokes, and Betty was filled with an ice-cold, effervescent joy. She began to drift away. She hoped it would work out between Brian and this girl, really she did. But, if it didn’t… well, she’d already heard Magda talking about inviting him over for Christmas. She’d be waiting to see if he needed her again. She’d be waiting, like always, at the top of the stairs.