HALLOWEEN HUMOR FICTION

The Failure’s Last Attempt

A ghost with determination to scare

This was it!

“It’s now or never.”

“Ha-Ha! What could possibly go wrong?”

“This will show them”

All these thoughts ran through young Jeremiah’s head as he excitedly scouted the house from afar. The job today was different, more personal.

Jeremiah was finally 119 years of age. He had anxiously waited for the whole year to go by, and there he was again, looking at the big October 31 on his calendar, excitedly gobbling down his creamy eyeball sandwich.

A few hours later, there he was!

This was Jeremiah’s last chance to prove himself to his ghost friends, ghost family, and ghost girlfriend, who was dead set on leaving him. Jeremiah was the wimpy clown of the ghost town. Not only had he failed to scare even a single human in the last nineteen years, he had publicly embarrassed himself when a baby sparrow had flown past him, and he had yelled like a little a young child.

Not only that, but he needed to be able to scare people if he wished to become a member of the S.P.O.O.C; Secret Platoon Order of Other-worldly Creatures.

He might have been a ghost, but ghosts have odd politics and military forces too. It was his dream job, and they did not accept applicants over the age of 119.

But things were finally looking good for Jeremiah. He had found the perfect house and the ideal people who would guarantee him a spot on the force. It was Redwood’s famous haunted mansion. Fun fact: The estate was not haunted. Jeremiah’s Uncle Jasper III had gotten drunk at Cousin Georgie’s wedding and bumped into many random things in the attic. The owners heard a tumult and moved out, claiming it was a haunted place.

Jeremiah smiled a little, remembering how he had often brought his girlfriend there before the elderly couple moved in. His pale white cheeks went red as he thought about the time his girlfriend had leaned in to kiss him, and he ran away, not knowing what to do.

Things were about to end as the wimpy ghost was going to confess: and make someone’s grandparents scream. That was the day Jeremiah learned that life does not go as planned, even when you are not technically alive.

Mr. and Mrs. Henwick lived alone in the big mansion on Crawford Lane. Mrs. Henwick had recently celebrated her 70th birthday with Mr. Henwick. Many of their friends from the senior citizen center had shown up, and it was a treat to have their kids and grandkids over. The house was usually empty, so it was a nice change of pace.

Despite not getting many trick-or-treaters, the elderly couple always paid someone to decorate the house and bought a big bucket of candy from the nearby store. After all, Halloween was special. They had met at a party precisely forty-five years ago on Halloween. Mr. Henwick even mentioned in his vows how ‘Henrietta was the most beautiful witch he could have hoped to have in his bed.’

His vow speech was met with laughter and horrified gasps from the guests, but they enjoyed it, and that was what mattered.

Even now, the couple would curl up by the fireplace and read in their well-decorated mansion, waiting for sweet kids dressed up begging for candy.

However, Halloween had different plans for the old lovebirds. Specifically, Halloween had Jeremiah!

It was just over eight o’clock when Jeremiah saw his chance and floated over to the mansion. The couple had just grabbed some books from the shelves and had gotten comfortable in their chairs.

He started simple with the classic ‘things crashing loudly in an empty house’ tactic. He casually walked past the couple and into the kitchen, where he grabbed pans and started banging them together as he sipped on some prune juice cider that was on the counter.

After about five minutes of doing so, he gave up. The most he had gotten was, “Max dear, do you hear something?” from Mrs. Henwick.

“No problem. I was just getting started,” Jeremiah said to himself.

Next came the ‘Doorbell Spook.’ Jeremiah transformed himself to look like an ugly monster with blood dripping out of his eye-sockets. He then rang the bell and tried his best to let out a menacing growl when Henrietta opened the door, holding the still-full bucket of candy.

What came out was a high-pitched squeak. Mrs. Henwick chuckled and said, “My, aren’t you a scary monster? That costume looks very nice, dearie.”

She stretched out her arm to pat Jeremiah on the head, but the frail ghost let out a squeal and ran away.

Things were starting to look bad. Jeremiah tried everything he had planned, and the couple did not notice or get scared. He moved things in the rooms, he put out the fire, and he even turned off some of the gas lanterns in the house, but the old couple kept on smiling and fixing the metaphysical sabotages as if it were nothing. They were more interested in putting Ben Gay on each other.

“My, isn’t this an unusual night we’re having?” said Mr. Henwick, and the couple proceeded to laugh for a couple of minutes.

Tearfully and with a heavy heart, Jeremiah started to float back to the ghost town, admitting defeat. Perhaps he was just a wimpy failure after all. As he was leaving, he saw a tiny mouse and shrieked loudly, terrified of mice. The little creature fled, hearing the noise, but Jeremiah stood there, petrified. He had forgotten to change into his immaterial form from his last spook attempt.

It just so happened that Mr. Henwick returned from the bathroom when he heard the loud shriek. “Who’s in here?” he asked cautiously.

“Great! Now he decides to hear me,” Jeremiah thought.

As he was approaching, the ghost panicked and transformed to look like Mrs. Henwick. With Max’s bad sight and hearing, he would probably leave without even reaching him.

To his dismay, Max kept coming closer and closer, squinting to see better. It was until he was right up in Jeremiah’s face that he exclaimed,

“Holy hell, Henrietta! When did you get so ugly?”

Before Jeremiah could figure out his next move, he heard a loud gasp from behind him. It was Mrs. Henwick!

She had come up to check what was taking so long and had heard what Mr. Henwick said.

“Oh, you dog!” she said as she slapped poor Max Henwick as hard as her feeble little hands allowed.

It took a moment for the old couple to put two and two together; both slowly turned to look at Jeremiah, who still looked like Henrietta, and yelled at the top of their lungs.

“Wait! Did I actually do it?!” Jeremiah thought.

His eyes widened with realization and excitement as he went invisible again. He yelled, “Whoopie!” the whole way back to the town. Life does find a way to help.

Poor Mrs. Henwick had fainted from shock, but Jeremiah was too happy to care.

At last, failure’s final attempt had succeeded.