Short Story: Here We Go Again

“You haven’t slept in however many days it is; of course you’re going to be snapping at people.” Kay was as succinct and to the point as ever. Even worse, she was right. On the bright side, she wasn’t actually throwing anything, and I don’t think I’d irretrievably insulted anyone.

The day was young however, even if it felt as old as the Pyramids. I suppressed a self-pitying snarl that would have done nothing to make anything better. It wasn’t my fault that George’s old caches of occult knick-knacks had proved irresistible to treasure hunters once word of his current unavailability had leaked out.

In an ideal world I’d have been blissfully unaware, but since the unfortunate business with the amateur hour necromancers I had an absolute horror of a time any time anyone even sniffed at his stuff. I swear it’s his revenge, even now.

Right on cue, George’s spectral visage appeared, closely followed by the rest of him as he walked through the wall. I may have actually growled this time, judging by the flinch on his features. I took a small measure of satisfaction from having spooked a ghost.

About Tim Maidment

Writer, House Husband, Raconteur and Bon Vivant
This entry was posted in Fiction, short story and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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