13 Ghost Stores in 13 Days

A Very Kaboom Halloween

11 min readOct 29, 2020

It was a dark and stormy Mischief Night — the night before Halloween that they celebrate in Pennsylvania but not in some other places — and Stan “Thunder Man” Parker struggled to get into the holiday spirit.

He’d lost too many friends to the weather to celebrate anyone dressed as a ghost. He could feel their spirits on every breeze and see their souls in every sunset. Plus, he wore a mask every day, to hide the scars that come with being a world famous meteorologist.

He arrived at the Channel 10 studio dressed in the same costume he always wore: That of a ruggedly handsome weatherman with stubble that never fully grew into a beard, and a leather jacket.

His beautiful, but nerdy, research assistant, Beverly Banks, was dressed in a toga.

“I like your John Belushi costume,” Thunder Man said.

Beverly rubbed her forehead.

“I’m Zeus,” she said. “Greek god of thunder, lightning, clouds, and rain? I figured if anyone could see that it would be you.”

“There’s no god controlling the weather,” Thunder Man said. “If there were, a priest could do this job, instead of rugged, godless men like me.”

Beverly blinked at him. He knew she’d learned over the years to ignore him when he was in a mood that reflected the stormy weather.

“Now I’m worried no one’s going to get my costume,” she said. “Should I go home and change?”

“No time,” Thunder Man said. “I go on in 10 minutes. Do you have the final report?”

Beverly pulled a packet of papers from her leather briefcase.

“Blue skies. Crisp air. Peak foliage,” she said, looking over the report. “The perfect Halloween.”

“The kids in this town are going to be happy,” Thunder Man said.

He watched as the two weekend anchors, both dressed as Minions, talked about lagging sales at the local candy stores, fueled by nervous parents worrying the storm would continue for another day and wash out Halloween.

“Sounds like the candy men in this town are also going to be very happy with the forecast,” Beverly said.

Thunder Man nodded, the weight of the responsibility he held never ceasing to blow him away.

He was still contemplating his power when a crack of thunder rang through the newsroom. Every light in the studio went out. Beverly walked right into Thunder Man.

“Kaboom,” Thunder Man said, because he never missed an opportunity to use his catchphrase.

“Could you please not do that now?” Beverly asked.

“Impossible,” Thunder Man said. “Would you ask Dr. Seuss to stop the rain?”

He could feel Beverly’s glare even in the darkness.

“I’m Zeus,” she said. “I’m pretty sure you know who Dr. Seuss is. You have a PhD for god’s sake.”

“I went to climatology school,” Thunder Man said. “Not medical school.”

Beverly ignored him and went to find the emergency lights. She flicked on the breaker.

Thunder Man covered his eyes, always his first reaction to any harsh, artificial light.

Beverly screamed and buried her head into Thunder Man’s broad meteorological shoulders.

“I don’t like artificial light either,” he said.

Beverly pulled away and shook her head. She pointed to the anchor desk. Blood covered their minion costumes. Both throats had been slit. On the wall behind the dead anchors, someone, or something, had scrawled in blood:

Today’s Forecast: Cloudy, with a Chance of More Death.

Thunder Man turned to Beverly.

“Did that report say anything about this?”

A little while later, they gathered in the dimly lit studio with the only other living beings they could find: Jonathan, the station’s intern, and Tulsa Phil, a mysterious groundhog with no past who had arrived earlier in the week.

“Seeing as you’re a mysterious groundhog with no past that arrived earlier this week,” Thunder Man began, pulling out his gun. “I’m going to assume you did this.”

The intern stepped between the meteorologist and the groundhog, likely unaware of the ancient battle he was getting in the middle of.

“He was outside with me trying to fix the satellite dish,” Jonathan said. “That’s why his fur is so wet.”

Thunder Man looked down. The story checked out. The groundhog’s fur was soaked.

“We could put him in the microwave to dry him off,” Thunder Man suggested.

“Stan!” Beverly said. “He’ll explode.”

“Right,” he said, turning to Tulsa Phil. “Sorry. History has taught me not to trust your kind. My sworn enemy is a groundhog. I’m taking a class to try to overcome my biases.”

Tulsa Phil nodded knowingly.

“Your rivalry is well known throughout the land,” he said, in a gravelly voice. “And trust me, I’m no fan of Punxsutawney Phil. I’m just a drifter, passing through, and a student of the game, hoping to see a master at work.”

“Good enough for me,” Thunder Man said. He went into his pocket and retrieved a king sized Snickers bar. He handed it to the groundhog. “A peace offering.”

The groundhog drifter with no past eagerly gobbled up the candy bar. It was clear he hadn’t eaten in a while. Life on the road was tough, Thunder Man thought.

“Careful,” Thunder Man said. “Those things will make you gain weight. It’s a candy bar that eats like a meal.”

“Life on the road is tough,” the groundhog said.

Thunder Man nodded and turned to the intern.

“They don’t pay you a living wage so you obviously have a motive,” he said. “Did you kill the anchors? You can tell us. We’ll cover for you.”

“No,” the intern said. “My parents pay my rent.”

“Only way to make it in this industry,” Thunder Man said.

Beverly Banks cleared her throat.

“Look, as much as I’d like to talk about the structural barriers of breaking into broadcast media,” she said. “I think we should focus on that bloody message on the wall. We might still be in danger.”

Jonathan the intern nodded.

“The girl dressed as a self-immolating monk is correct,” he said

“I’m not a…” Beverly started. “Actually, that’s a really cool costume idea.”

Thunder Man read the bloody threat again and nodded.

“It could just be a general statement,” he said. “Death comes for us all, eventually. It’s poetic.”

All four of them stopped to contemplate Thunder Man’s words. They knew he was right.

“Let’s get the signal back up so I can deliver the Halloween forecast,” Thunder Man said. “Death doesn’t stop the weather.”

He was answered by another thunder clap. Then the lights went out again.

When the lights came back, they found Jonathan the intern lying in a pool of his own blood. He’d been stabbed in the back.

“Ironic fate for him considering you’re the one dressed as Julius Caesar,” Tulsa Phil said to Beverly.

She turned to Thunder Man.

“Should I just go buy a different costume?” she asked.

Thunder Man shook his head. They were all in too deep to leave the station. He went down and felt Jonathan’s pulse.

“Deader than my first marriage,” he said. “Which is good, because he doesn’t have health insurance. The hospital bill would have delivered him a fate worse than this.”

Tulsa Phil and Beverly both nodded. Then they all moved the body. Beverly screamed again. Scrawled in blood beneath the dead intern was another message:

Your next forecast will be your last.

Thunder Man did not react.

“Every time a weatherman makes a forecast he knows it could be his last,” he said. “It’s what makes us so hard to love.”

“I think we should leave,” Beverly said.

“No,” Thunder Man said. “I have a public service to perform.”

Tulsa Phil nodded.

“I’m just a drifter with no past,” he said. “But I’ve learned enough to know the most important thing is for you to deliver that forecast.”

“More important than our lives?” Beverly asked.

“What’s life if we never know when the sun might shine?” Thunder Man asked.

Beverly breathed out.

“Dammit,” she said. “I hate when you’re right.” She turned to Tulsa Phil. “Start rolling the camera.”

But before he could pick it up, all the lights went out. Again.

When the lights returned, Tulsa Phil’s lifeless body was hanging from a ceiling tile.

Thunder Man looked up at the limp corpse that was once the groundhog drifter.

“I think I understand the true meaning of Halloween now,” he finally said.

“That’s your takeaway from this?” Beverly asked.

Thunder Man nodded solemnly. Then he turned to her. Her glasses were fogging up from being trapped inside for so long. But she was beautiful, he thought, in a nerdy sort of way.

“We can leave,” Thunder Man said. “I’ve seen enough evidence to know I’m making the correct forecast.”

They turned to leave, but found their exit blocked by a tiny figure in a black cloak and a ghost mask.

“Was that guy here before?” Thunder Man asked.

“No, that’s definitely the murderer,” Beverly said.

They tried to run, but soon realized they were trapped. Thunder Man reached for his gun. Missing.

The murderer advanced upon them. He pulled out a gun. Thunder Man recognized it as his own.

“This is the last kaboom either of you are ever going to hear,” the tiny murderer said.

“Nice line,” Thunder Man said, because even though his life was in danger, he always appreciated when someone could use someone’s own catchphrase in an ironic way against them.

The murderer moved closer. As he thought about his life ending, Thunder Man realized he would die with only regret.

“Bev,” he said. “Would this be the wrong time for me to tell you I respect your intellect and, despite your glasses, I’ve always been in love with you?”

“Yes,” Beverly said. “Definitely the wrong time. And what’s wrong with my glasses?”

Thunder Man bit his lip. No woman could resist his charms, except perhaps the only one he truly loved. He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. He heard a cracking above and looked up just in time to see Tulsa Phil’s body come crashing down from the ceiling and land right on top of the murderer.

Beverly and Thunder Man froze.

“The murderer must have miscalculated Tulsa Phil’s body weight,” Beverly said.

“Glad I gave him that Snickers bar,” Thunder Man said, moving toward the murderer’s limp body. “Let’s see what mask this guy wears beneath the ghost mask to hide who he really is.”

Thunder Man used an extension cord to tie up the killer, who had started to squirm. Beverly slowly removed the mask. Thunder Man smiled.

It was Punxsutawney Phil. His oldest rival. He should have known.

“Punxsutawney Phil,” Thunder Man said. “My oldest rival. I should have known.”

The groundhog laughed evilly.

“You’re too late, of course,” Punxsutawney Phil said. “I’m afraid you and the Greek god of thunder and lightning have run out of miracles.”

Beverly lit up.

“See?” she said. “He gets it.”

“You’ll never be able to deliver your forecast,” Punxsutawney Phil said. “The news hour is almost over. If you run into Jeopardy, there will be riots.”

Thunder Man glanced at the clock. Five minutes until Jeopardy came on. Plenty of time. He just needed to stall long enough to get the camera ready.

“I guess you’re right, Phil,” Thunder Man said. “Seeing as we’re in no rush, why don’t you take a few seconds to dramatically explain why you did all this?”

Punxsutawney Phil, who could never resist a chance to dramatically expound upon his evil plans, rubbed his paws eagerly. Thunder Man signaled to Beverly with his eyes to set up the camera, so they could deliver a last-minute forecast when the groundhog was done.

“I needed the parents of this town to consider Halloween a total washout,” the groundhog said. “That way they’d leave all the candy in the store. Then I could buy it all up at half price on November 1 and sell it back next year … at a hefty markup.”

Beverly fiddled with the camera. They needed just a few more moments

“That’s why you killed three people?” she asked. “And a lonely groundhog drifter who never bothered anyone? For a little bit of money?”

“I can’t resist a good lesson in supply and demand,” Punxsutawney Phil said. “And it’s actually a lot of money.”

Thunder Man nodded.

“That’s honestly a really good plan,” he said. “One I might have respected this morning, when I thought I hated this holiday. But you taught me the true meaning of Halloween tonight … Which is why I’m going to let you go.”

Thunder Man walked over to untie his sworn enemy. Beverly almost dropped the camera.

“Wait, what?” she said. “No. Why are you letting him leave? We finally caught him. And how did any of this teach you the meaning of Halloween?”

“All crime is legal on Mischief Night,” Thunder Man said, loosening Punxsutawney Phil’s bonds. “No court in this state would convict him.”

The groundhog scurried toward the back door. Beverly chased after him.

“Then we’ll take him to Ohio,” Beverly insisted. “He killed three people, including an innocent intern. And that’s not even true about Mischief Night. You’re thinking of the purge.”

Thunder Man locked eyes with the thing he hated most. He saw a glimmer of familiarity.

“I realized tonight that the mask he wears to hide his pain is greater than the one he wore when killing those people,” Thunder Man said. “Besides, our rivalry can’t end here. This story isn’t canon.”

“Stan, please,” Beverly insisted.

“He helped me find the Halloween spirit,” Thunder Man said. “He deserves to get away.”

And just like that, Punxsutawney Phil slipped out a back door and into the Mischief Night darkness.

Beverly watched the door, dumbfounded. Thunder Man rubbed some blood off the front of his leather jacket.

“Roll the camera, Bev,” he said. “We can still foil his plan.”

Beverly straightened her toga and nodded. She knew he was right. She turned on the camera.

“And in 3 … 2… ,” she said.

“Good news parents,” Thunder Man said, flashing his million dollar smile. “It’s going to be a beautiful, crisp, clear Halloween. Go buy extra candy tonight. You’re going to need it.”

He looked to Beverly. She told him to keep going. They still had a minute before Jeopardy came on.

“But first I want to share something I’ve learned about the true meaning of Halloween,” Thunder Man continued. “We all wear masks. But most important are the masks we wear to hide our true selves from the people that love us. That’s what makes Halloween so great. For one night a year, we accept that everyone we love wears a mask ... I’m Stan ‘Thunder Man’ Parker. Channel 10 News. Happy Mischief Night everyone. Enjoy Jeopardy.”

If you want to read more of Thunder Man and Beverly’s adventures, visit MouseHouseBooks.com.

The only rule of 13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days is that the story must be posted the same night I started writing it.

13 Ghost Stores in 13 Days

A Very Kaboom Halloween

Written by Mark Macyk