I split last night’s story with every intention of finishing tonight. But it’s late… So in lieu of finishing with part 2, I’ve giving you part 1½ – this is what happened once Allison left for brunch.

Jameson stared at the closed front door.

“She left. She really just left!” he said.

Behind him the black mist of Carl opened its mouth and made the grinding noise. But to Jameson, his words were clear: “She told us she was taking the day off.”

Jameson looked over his shoulder at Carl incredulously. “She’s a medium! She literally has a gift to speak to the dead. She doesn’t get to take a day off!”

Carl tilted its black misty head to the side in confusion. “Okay… but she’s left. Whether she gets to or not, she just did.”

Jameson turned on his heel and stalked past Carl. “Fine, then.”

Carl watched him go and asked, “Where are you going?”

“If she’s taking a day off,” he said as he walked, “then so am I!”

Carl turned and floated after him. “What are you taking a day off from? You’re a ghost.”

Jameson moved up the stairs and towards Allison’s bedroom.

“Jameson? Where are you going?”

Jameson didn’t respond. He stalked into Allison’s bedroom and lay down on the bed on his back, crossed his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

Carl floated into the room after him and stared at Jameson lying on the bed. “I don’t understand,” it said.

“Ghosts are the active dead. I’m taking a day off, so I’m just going to be passively dead.”

Carl sighed heavily, the black mist of its being scattering with the movement. It started to float out of the room.

“I’m so relaxed already!” Jameson called after Carl. “Oh yes, so relaxed! So glad I’m taking the day off.” Carl kept floating down the hallway.

You would have to go back to the first year of 31 Ghosts to get this far into October without me splitting up a story! And, to be fair, I could probably hammer this one out, but I have laundry to fold and a bed calling my name. I’m not taking a day off like Allison here is, but maybe what passes for a day off in October! But let’s get this started…

The black mist flittered under the door into Allison’s bedroom. As she slept, the mist coalesced into an enormous dark form that began to move forward towards Allison’s sleeping figure. As it moved glowing red eyes developed and the form seemed to solidify into a hulking black form that leaned down towards her. The figure stooped, its eyes just inches from her face.

With a gasp, Allison opened her eyes, face to face with the being.

“Goddamnit, Carl!” she bellowed and shoved the figure away with both hands. “What did we talk about?” she demanded, sitting up in bed as Carl staggered back. “One, that’s just creepy – you can’t be getting in people’s faces like that!”

Carl opened its mouth, but Allison cut it off.

“Ah! No! No Exceptions.” Carl’s dark misty shoulders slumped. “And, Two,” she enumerated, “I told you and the rest of the spirits I’m taking the day off!”

This time Carl opened its mouth and produced a sound like rusty gears grinding.

“You thought I was kidding?” Allison drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why,” she started carefully and deliberately, “would I kid about that?”

Carl said something in that metal grinding voice.

“It’s precisely because it is October that I’m taking a day off! With the veil getting thinner before Halloween you guys are driving me crazy! You’re inviting all your half-formed friends over to talk to your medium friend while they can!”

Carl grated out something.

“Yes, I know I said that was okay, and it usually is. But I reached a breaking point last night when that mummy crossed over and started getting dust everywhere–”

Carl cut her off with the grinding metal sound.

“Yes, ‘mummified person’ is the correct term for actual remains. Was your dust spewing friend actual remains?”

Carl squeaked.

“No. So, Mummy.” Allison looked at the clock. “It’s three in the morning! I need to get more sleep. You go tell the rest of the entities here that I’m taking a vacation day and not to be disturbed!”

Carl squeaked something.

“No, there’s no emergency. You’re all dead or summoned by who knows what. One day isn’t going to kill, err, re-kill any of you. Now go!” She pointed to the door. Carl turned and skulked begrudgingly towards the door. “Tell the others! Do not bother me for the rest of the day!”

At the foot of the bed, the glowing black cat that was curled up stretched and meowed loudly.

“No, accept you, Annie. You’re fine.” The cat let out a self-satisfied mew and curled back down. Carl squeaked something and then dissolved back into smoke and drifted back under the door. Allison let out a huff as she settled back down into her pillow, hoping she would be able to get back to sleep.

She needn’t have worried, as the next thing she knew, sunlight streamed in through the window. Allison stretched and looked at her clock, “Crap!”

The ghost cat mewed its displeasure at being awoken.

“Sorry, Annie, but I forgot to set my alarm and I have to meet Mary for brunch. We’re doing a spa day.”

A head poked in through the closed door. “Did someone say ‘spa day’?”

“Jameson, Carl was supposed to tell you all that I’m taking a day off!”

“Oh, he did. I just assumed that doesn’t apply to me!” he said in a haughty tone.

Allison sighed. “Jameson, is your head sticking through a solid door right now?”

“Well, yes…”

“And are you in fact a ghost?”

“Yes…”

“Then leave me alone today!” she yelled and he just barely pulled his head back through the door before the pillow Allison threw at him collided with the closed door.

“Sheesh!” She could hear him curse in the hallway.

“Oh, Annie, is it possible for me to take a day off without ghosts?”

The cat mewed loudly.

To be continued…

It has been brought to my attention (*cough*Akilah*cough) that I might be skewing towards more scary-style ghost stories so far this year and less quirky or funny ghost stories. I had every intention of adding a quirky or funny ghost story tonight… but I also really want to get to bed before midnight tonight. So, you’re getting a short and scary story tonight. Sorry/not sorry.

As the credits rolled for the second episode of season two of “Loki” Davis was feeling pretty proud of himself. After all, this was the first time his parents had left him alone for any period of time at night without a babysitter. To be fair, it was last-minute circumstances – Davis’s mom had to work late, and his dad had his weekly poker game with his friends. Sure, there was some hemming and hawing, but Davis felt confident that his sole point of evidence that “I’m twelve! That’s practically an adult” had won the argument for him.

There were a lot of “no’s” he had to abide by (no sugary snacks, no scary movies, no friends over, no, no, no) but overall it wasn’t bad. He made himself Easy Mac and then played Fortnite until he got bored and turned on “Loki.” Overall, it was a completely uneventful Friday night. He didn’t know what his parents were concerned about.

He was about to start Percy Jackson and the Olympians for the thirtieth time, when he heard his dad’s car pull into the driveway and pull to the back detached garage. A few moments later he heard a knock at the front door.

“That’s weird,” he thought, going to the front door.

“Do not open the front door for anyone” was the commandment that echoed through his head as he leaned in to look through the peep hole. It was his dad. He stared straight at the door, raised his hand and knocked again.

What the…?

“Dad, why did you come to the front door?” he called through the closed door.

No answer. Another series of knocks.

“Seriously, Dad, just let yourself in.”

Another series of knocks.

Davis looked through the peep hole again. His dad still stood there staring straight at the door, no emotion on his face. Davis thought it looked like his eyes were all black, but he wasn’t sure if that was just a trick of the porch light or the peep hole lens.

The knocking came again.

“That’s not funny, Dad!” Davis called through the door.

No answer.

The knocks came again.

Now Davis was concerned. Maybe his dad was hurt or something – the knocks were getting pretty insistent. Maybe he should open the door.

“Do not open the front door for anyone,” his mom had said. He focused on the “anyone” part and wondered if his dad was testing him.

The knocks came again, harder now.

“You can stop now, Dad!” he called.

More knocks.

“Dad, stop!”

More knocking.

“Dad!” Davis yelled.

“Davis?! What’s up?” his dad’s voice came from behind him.

Davis spun at the sound and his terror evaporated as he saw his dad as he knew him.

“Dad! You were out on the porch knocking and you had these dead eyes and I wouldn’t let you in and you kept knocking and I remember mom said not to open the door and I didn’t but you kept knocking and–”

“Whoa, slow down Davis. Who’s outside?”

“You are! Well, not you-you. But something that looked like you!”

Davis’s dad’s face went pale, “Oh no,” he said and fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Dad? What’s going on? Dad?”

Davis’s dad dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. “Honey?” he said into the phone. “Yeah, I’m home. Davis is fine, but… they’re back.”