Page 6 of Squad Ghouls

“Um…excuse me?” a lilting voice said, sounding far softer and decidedly more Welsh without the megaphone.

I blinked back to my senses and away from the gravitational field around that arse tempting me to fall headfirst into it.

It wouldn’t have been my own fault.

It was the law of physics.

And then another realisation slammed into me.

This person was decidedly warm. And breathing. And wiggling in his bright orange shorts…

I mentally slapped myself.

Alive.

This guy was alive.

Thank fuck! my dick cheered.

two

Happily haunted

Owain

“You’re not a ghost.”

I closed my eyes in resignation. Darn it.

Our plan had been so well put together and executed.

Well, maybe my delivery could have used some work…but the rest of the squad had done brilliantly. This guy should have run out the front door screaming.

I guessed none of us here really knew how to be scary after all.

I sighed, then realised as my chest ached when it tried to expand on an inhale that I was still on the floor. I needed to get the English weight off my back. I opened my eyes and everything blurred in front of me. And I needed to regain my vision.

“We can talk down here, but I can’t see without my glasses.” I wiggled a little more. The guy behind me made a pained noise like I had physically hurt him. I frowned and glanced back blindly over my shoulder at his smudged shape. “Hello?”

“Why are you wearing shorts in this weather?” It sounded accusatory and it threw me off. I’d thought he’d be angry about the whole flour-throwing, paint-can-swinging, pendulum-chopping thing. Not my clothes.

“I don’t own trousers.”

“You don’t own trousers! Why the hell don’t you own trousers?!” His voice rose in tone to an almost-squeak, his indignation only growing.

“I don’t like them. They’re constricting.”

“It’s three degrees outside! Put on some bloody trousers!”

“Why are you so obsessed with trousers? Are you part of the Covered Legs Association? Do you have stock in trousers?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Oh, I’m ridiculous?”

“YOU’RE WEARING SHORTS IN WINTER!”

He was clearly having an episode of some kind. Maybe that paint can had clipped him. I couldn’t tell without my glasses.