Book 1: A Ghostly Tale: Spellbound

Chapter 8: A Night to Remembah

Stinkie looked around, from the motorcycle he'd technically stolen, to the place where Lucy just disappeared, and then to the clear sky above him. He couldn't help but think of the ugly fate that awaited him back at the mansion...what would Stretch do to him if he'd seen him kiss a fleshie? Seen him kiss Lucy? And what about her? What would she think if she knew the truth? She wouldn't want anything to do with him, he was sure. But maybe she'd never have to find out the truth... a small rumble in his stomach interrupted his thinking. His head shook, and he watched as his limbs began to twitch spastically. Falling to the ground, he arched his back and felt his eyes roll to the back of his head. This pinhead was finally fighting back, he'd almost forgotten he was in someone else's body.

Stinkie felt for the widest exit and slithered through his victim's mouth like a snake. He slithered across the ground and stretched his arms with a loud groan. He quickly made himself invisible as the lazy lump laying on the ground regained consciousness. Stinkie raced to the nearest high tree branch and sat, watching the specimen lift himself up on his arms and shake his head violently.

"Woah," he looked around, bewildered. Once he got to his feet, he squinted and smoothed his large part back behind his ears. "That was dope." He cracked a grin.

Oh boy, what a brainiac this guy was.

"Wait, where the hell am I?"

Stinkie sighed, looking at his white, transparent hands. As empty-headed as this guy seemed, he had to admit he was more handsome. And more human.

Stinkie shook his head of that. His fairytale night was over and he needed to move on. He sighed and watched the so called, "Tom Browning" hop onto his motorcycle and drive away with ease.

"Pft," Stinkie smirked. "Can't even drive da damn thing right." He sulked on the weathering branch and crossed his arms sporting a pouty look.

After five or so minutes of non productive pouting, Stinkie rose from the branch and began his short trek back to Whipstaff. He felt the wind blow through his body and closed his eyes as he flew. What was this tingly, knot-like feeling in the pit of his tail? Fear? Anxiety? He had't felt anxious since the one time when Stretch disappeared for a week and came back with a drinking problem and a new tattoo on his right bicep.

Wait... Stinkie stopped mid-flight. Did I just...remember? He rubbed his head. He did...he remembered something from his past. Stretch... No—no. Vin—Vinnie? Vincent! Stinkie pondered this for a moment. And then he was slapped in the face with a cold, hard piece of reality. Stretch. Stretch was going to kick his ass when he got home. He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and glided through the northern sky, completely immune to the blisteringly cold air that nipped at his large nose.

Cutting through the park, he started eyeing people walking hand in hand along the garden paths he found himself lost in his own thoughts, eventually wandering back to the shape of Lucy's hips and how they swayed to the loud music at the ball. The way her hair bounced when she ran, how her lips were so small and perfectly sculpted and—

"No!" He yelled in exasperation. He held his head and shook it. Stop it, stop it, stop it! He thought. "Get a hold o' yaself!" He slapped his face and shook his head. "She's a human, you's an undead apparition."

"But maybe..." he began to slip into a daze, but caught himself. "No, no, no! Gah!" He grabbed his head and bent forward, trying to shake the thought of Lucy right out of his ears. "I gotta get outta 'ere."

Stinkie flew in silence and watched as the color from the sky seemed to drain to an opaque grayish tone. He approached the mansion and hovered in the air with a solum frown.

"Well," he sighed. "'Ere goes nothin'."

He flew through the doors and looked around slowly. No movement, no sounds. Shoulders slumping in relief, he began to ascend the staircase to his room, trying not to make a sound. When he entered through the wall he wasn't met with two sleeping ghosts, but four eyes glowing red with anger.