Ghosts Don’t Trick or Treat:
A FREE Paranormal Properties Story
By Tracy Lane, author of Paranormal Properties
Ghosts Don’t Trick or Treat
Tracy Lane
Copyright 2012 by Tracy Lane
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Cover credit: © gemenacom - Fotolia.com
Ghosts Don’t Trick or Treat
“Don’t you think we’re a little too old for this?”
Jake Weir stood in front of the mirror in his homemade Ghostbusters costume and straightened the dollar store goggles on his head.
Tank shoved him out of the way to straighten the feathers in her giant Big Bird costume. “Trick or treating? Jake, didn’t your ghost hunting parents ever teach you anything? You’re never too old to trick or treat.”
Tank looked around the apartment. Ever since she’d come to live with them in Dusk, North Carolina after her father passed away, she’d gotten accustomed to Molly and Dennis Weir hanging out in the living room, straightening cables, doing mike checks, recording lint in the breeze to make sure their cameras were up to snuff.
Suddenly, on the ghostliest night of the year, they were nowhere to be seen.
“Are you kidding?” Jake asked as they grabbed their plastic trick or treat bags -- free with every five-dollar purchase down at Ginghams’ Drug Store -- hanging from the door handle and stumbled downstairs to unlock their bikes. “Halloween is like… like… Christmas for ghost hunters. They’re over at the old Meyers place trying to pick up signals for next week’s show.”
Tank nodded, a big orange plastic beak strapped to her nose, as they sped off down the street.
Halloween had come to Dusk, and with it a full moon and leaf covered streets filled with houses featuring flickering jack o’ lanterns on every stoop. Some had spooky faces, some had candy corn fangs, some had goofy, fun faces but all glowed from the stoops like spirits begging for release.
Jake watched carefully, surprised his old friend -- and actual ghost -- Frank Barrone hadn’t shown his face all day. Ever since Frank showed up and introduced himself to Jake a few months earlier, Jake had realized his secret gift: he could see, even talk to, ghosts.
Only thing was, on the one night of the year it was actually appropriate to talk to ghosts, the only ghost he knew was nowhere to be seen -- or heard!
“Trick or treat!” Tank yelled, big as a house, standing a full foot over the older woman who’d just opened her front door. The woman leapt and offered out an orange bowl full of candy treats with trembling hands.
“Oh my,” she said, before closing the door, “I didn’t know Big Bird costumes came quite that big.”
Tank shoved a Gooey Bar into her mouth and harrumphed, “Shows how much YOU know, lady! This is only size XXL!”
Tank was a big girl, no doubt about it, but ever since she’d helped Jake solve the mystery of Frank Barrone’s murder, they’d been joined at the hip.
