Writing for Fun
December 2020
I Don’t Believe in Ghosts - Jan Norman
With dinner in the castles great hall over, King Aga and Queen Give it ‘ere hurried back to the comparative warmth of their private rooms and settled down in front of a roaring fire. The king with a book and the queen with her embroidery.
A minute later Aga raised his head and sniffed. ‘What is that terrible smell?’
Breathing deeply and coughing, Give it ‘ere said she thought it was the new Yak hair carpet.
Kicking off his slippers Aga rubbed his feet over the offending surface and frowned. ‘It not only smells it’s very rough to the touch. Perhaps not one of our best purchases, dearest.’
‘No dear but we have more pressing matters to attend to. ‘Halloween is only a week away and we need to think up some scary fun things to do to entertain our guests.’
‘Mm, mm, yes of course, you are right, we must plan . . . what is that unholy racket; that terrible moaning and shrieking noise?’
Without looking up from her embroidery Give it ‘ere murmured, ‘It must be the ghost that everyone is complaining about. Lots of the servants in the castle have said recently that they have seen a ghostly apparition and heard strange noises. Some have even said they have been slimed by a ghostly entity. Isn't that silly.’
Aga snorted. ‘Ghosts, ghosts? You know I don’t believe in ghosts. Lots of fanciful thinking to my mind because of Halloween. I reckon the noise must be Sir Goes Berserk a Lot. He is giving bagpipe lessons to Sir Gets it Wrong a Lot and Sir Prays a Lot. Although I’m surprised that anyone can hear them from the dungeon. I make them practise there precisely so no one could hear them.’
Before his Queen could reply there was a low moaning sound that grew louder and louder until it became a stomach churning wail and it was coming from just outside their door.
There was a scream and crash followed by sobbing.
‘That’s enough! This japing has to end.’ So saying King Aga grabbed his sword, flew to the door and, wrenching it open, charged into the corridor. He stopped dead in his tracks. There, sitting crumpled up against the wall and shaking like a leaf was Gervais, his man servant. He was covered in thick smelly slime, shards of broken glass and crockery and red wine that he had been bringing to his master.
‘Help me Sire I’ve been slimed by a monster: br . . . bright green it was with fearsome fangs and . . .’ But the king was not paying any attention because an evil laugh had made him spin around. There towering over him was a terrible spectre, luminous green with a cavernous fang-filled maw and blood dripping claws.
Bleh. Bleh. Great gouts of green snot hit him between the eyes. Dropping his sword and screaming that he had just been slimed King Aga turned tail and bolted back into his room, desperately clawing at his eyes, trying to clear them of the foul goo.
Hearing him yell Queen Give it ‘ere made a dash for the door in order to help her beloved. Just inside Aga tripped over the rough edge of the Yak carpet and lunged forward, off balance. He threw his arms forward in an effort to save himself and made contact with his wife, knocking her off her feet. Her voluminous skirts flew up over her head and Aga, seeking blindly, grabbed her round the legs. Momentum carried them both backwards, skidding over the carpet until they came to a stop. Aga with Give it ‘ere’s skirts settled over his head.
The Queen lay moaning and gasping. Completely winded.
‘Help, help I’ve gone blind,’ shrieked Aga in complete panic.
Sucking in a deep breath of air Give it ‘ere screamed ‘Don’t be such a nincompoop, man. It’s dark because you've got your head up my skirt!’
Gervaise, hearing their majesties’ distress, picked up the king’s sword and bravely flung himself into the room. He stopped dead in disbelief. Unable to believe his eyes he skidded to a halt, the sword falling from his nerveless grip. Shocked he stammered, ‘Begging you pardon, your Majesties, I had no idea that . . . I’d better leave,’ and turned to flee.
The king, poking his head out from under Give it ere’s skirts shouted, ‘If that’s you Gervais, don’t just stand there, summons the Knights of the Nearly Round Table. We have a war on our hands.’
The Queen interrupted. ‘Forget fetching the knights, fetch me the royal physician I have carpet burns.’
Stupefied, Gervais, a broken man, turned without another word and slowly walked away to do their Majesties bidding.
Much later that evening the royal pair held a council of war. All the Knights of King Aga’s Nearly Round Table, Granny Fruitloops, local witch and Sir Goes Berserk a Lot’s wife together with their adopted son Walter crammed into the royal chambers. Once everyone was seated, a drink in their hand, King Aga briefed them all on the evening’s events.
Silence reigned as everyone pondered on the knotty problem of how to capture the ghost until, breaking the silence Sir Eat a Lot sniffed and said, ‘What is that smell?’
‘Never mind the smell why are our dear queens elbows bandaged?’ interrupted Sir Pray a Lot.
Aga waved away the comments impatiently. ‘Trivia. Smell?: Yak hair carpet, bad buy. Give it ‘eres elbows?: carpet burns. Same carpet. Bad buy. Now let’s get down to the real problem. How are we going to get rid of our pesky ghost? Granny Fruitloops you are our resident expert on all things magical and supernatural, any ideas?’
‘Well, Sire, I believe we need to contain the ghost long enough to be able to reason with it. Ask him nicely to haunt somewhere else, that sort of thing. I know how to make a magical binding paint strong enough to pin him down. I can also make a potion to enable a temporary link to be forged between our two worlds so that we can talk to him. The only problem is how to deliver the paint?’
Silence fell again as everyone thought hard. A wheezing, shrieking noise made them all start. ‘Sorry, folks, my bagpipes just slid off my lap,’ apologised Sir Goes Berserk a Lot, picking them up.
‘That's it!’ shouted Walter excitedly jumping to his feet. ‘I know exactly how to catch the ghost. We’ll use the bagpipes.’ Granny, catching his drift, leapt to her feet as well. ‘I’ll go and make up the binding paint and voice spray. Anyone got any idea what I can use for a spray bottle?
‘Yes. Wait a moment.’ Give it ‘ere also leapt to her feet and sprinted into her bedchamber, returning minutes later with a little glass perfume atomiser with a rubber bulb pump – the sort posh ladies have on their dressing table. ‘Will this do?’ At a nod from Granny the Queen unscrewed the stopper and tipped the expensive perfume it contained onto the Yak hair carpet before handing it to the witch. King Aga winced knowing he would have to replace the perfume with some that would be even more expensive.
Smiling weakly he quipped, ’At least the carpet smells better,’ and tittered.
Soon the three brave knights: Sir Goes Berserk a Lot, Sir Prays a Lot and Sir Gets it Wrong a Lot each had a full paint loaded bagpipe tucked under their arm. The bagpipes’ three top pipes, the drones, were sealed, as were the finger holes of the blowpipe and chanter. Will had a spare bucket of paint and a funnel and Granny Fruitloops had the communication spray.
Will prompted. ‘Do we all know what we have to do? All knights not wielding bagpipes are to track down the ghost and send word to us. Now go.’
‘Ghostbreakers, prime your bagpipes.’ Each knight blew down their blowpipe and inflated the bag putting the paint under pressure. Blowpipes were made airtight with corks. ‘When you have the ghost in range point the chanter at the ghost, blow down the blowpipe and squeeze the bag under your arm. The paint will come out in a stream.’
‘Yes, yes.’ said Sir Gets it Wrong a Lot.’ We suck on the Chanter and point the blowpipe at the ghost, right? Before Will could stop him he demonstrated and choked on a mouthful of paint. Everyone groaned.
Soon the call went up. The ghost was in the stables. Sir Rust a Lot’s horse, Bony Knock Knees, was bravely trying to bite the ghost, who was sitting in the manger but every time the horse’s teeth kept snapping shut on thin air, as the ghost roared with laughter. So busy teasing Knock Knees he did not see the ghostbreakers as they stole quietly through the door and arranged themselves three abreast in front of him
’Now!’ shouted Sir Goes Berserk a Lot. All three knights blew for all they were worth whilst pressing the bags with their elbows. Sir Pray a Lot squeezed so hard his bagpipe burst and the noise caused the ghost to freeze allowing the others to pin and paint him in the manger. Granny rushed forwards and sprayed the translator juice in it’s face.
The ghost struggled against his bonds in vain looking defiant, then, seeing it was futile started to look scared. King Aga strode into the stable and, pulling up a stool, calmly sat down and stared hard at his foe. ‘Well my friend it seems to me that we need to negotiate a truce.’
An hour later King Aga strolled out of the stables with an unfettered, docile ghost hovering by his side. Holding up his hands to silence the gathering crowd he smiled benignly and announced that he, their royal highness and Horace, pointing to the ghost, were in accord. ‘Horace has promised his king that, in return for a home for eternity in Cam a Lot castle, Horace will raise revenue for the King by haunting but only in a gentle way, you know, just a few ghostly moans and floating through walls when tourists and visitors are around.’ Everyone clapped.
Some wag in the crowd yelled that Horace should be put in charge of entertainment on the eve of Halloween.
Everyone shouted ‘What about it Horace?’