13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days
Officer Mac’s Last Day
Officer Mac was one day away from retirement. He was going to dance with his daughter at her wedding and then spend the rest of his days putting tiny wooden ships inside of bottles. He could not wait.
They’d partnered him that night with a new kid fresh out of the academy. Someone always dying, someone always being born, Mac thought. Circle of life.
They sat in their squad car, sipping coffee, talking about not much all. The Kid was antsy. He wanted to catch bad guys.
A voice squawked over the squad car’s radio.
“We got a 415 over at that creepy haunted castle in the cemetery,” the dispatcher said. “Noise complaint. Neighbors say it’s a party with under-aged drinking.”
“We’re on it,” Mac said.
“Noise complaint,” The Kid said, clearly disappointed. “Boring.”
“You watch too much TV, Kid,” Mac said. “Trust me. In this line of work ‘boring’ will soon be music to your ears.”
The kid pouted. But Mac knew. He’d lost partners to excitement before. He’d take a thousand noise complaints over a single murderer with a chainsaw and a hockey mask any day of the week.
“We’ll tell those rowdy kids to turn down the music, dump out of a couple of their beers for show, and be at the diner before Diane runs out of peach pie,” he said.
Mac rapped on the gargoyle door knocker outside the haunted castle. The Kid staked out the front yard and peaked in a couple of windows. A hunchbacked teenager answered the door.
“Good evening Officer Mac,“ he said, in a vaguely Transylvanian accent. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Howdy Igor,” Mac said. “Received a noise complaint from one of your neighbors. Word is there’s a party going on.”
“Oh, no party here,” Igor said. “Things just get out of hand on board game night. We are all simply dying to be victorious.”
“Is the Good Doctor home?” Mac said.
“He’s on vacation,” Igor said. “Eastern Europe.”
Mac watched his partner out of the corner of the eye. The Kid seemed to be spooked by something he saw in the window.
“You sure there’s no party here?” Mac asked. “Wouldn’t want to have to come back later. Wouldn’t want to have to tell the Good Doctor I had to come down here on my last day before retirement.”
“Nothing but a few friends enjoying a quiet evening,” Igor said, his eyes suddenly swirling hypnotically. “Perhaps you’d like to come in and look around. Perhaps you could stay … for dinner?”
“I think I’ll stick to Diane’s pie,” Mac said. “Tradition.”
“Hey Mac,” The Kid said, out of breath. “I think-”
Mac waved his new partner off.
“Igor, you have a good night, okay?” Mac said. “Be safe. We ain’t going to be as nice if we have to come back”
Igor turned and went back into the castle. The heavy stone door creaked shut on his own.
“I’m pretty sure they’re having a Monster Mash in there,” The Kid said.
“Just kids being kids,” Mac said. “Let ’em be. Igor’s all right.”
“We should get in there and bust them up,” The Kid said.
“Let’s go to the diner,” Mac said. “Need one last piece of Diane’s peach pie. It’s tradition.”
An hour later, his stomach filled with peach pie, Mac closed his eyes in the squad car and drifted in and out of contented sleep. His last shift was almost over. He couldn’t wait to get home and start working on putting one of those tiny wooden ships inside a bottle.
The Kid sat next to him. He had the jitters.
“Gotta lay off the coffee,” Mac said.
“I still have a bad feeling about that place,” The Kid said.
A voice crackled over the squad car radio.
“Car 69, we just had two more noise complaints about the old haunted castle in the cemetery, as well as one for a DisCon. Did you even investigate? Need I remind you, you ain’t retired yet.”
“I told you,” The Kid said, jumping up in his seat. “They’re doing the Monster Mash.”
“Just some kids having fun,” Mac said into the radio. “We’ll take another look now.”
Mac pulled the squad car in front of the castle. The Kid loaded his gun and flew out of the car before Mac even had the thing in park.
“Time for us to graveyard smash,” The Kid said, running toward the back of the castle.
“Get back here kid,” he tried. “Let’s coordinate a plan.”
But The Kid was already out of earshot.
Mac cursed under his breath and grabbed his gun.
“One more hour,” he told himself. “Then you can put all the tiny wooden ships inside bottles that you want.”
He found The Kid’s dead body just over the back gate of the castle. His throat had been ripped out.
Mac fought the urge to throw up and turned on the radio on his shoulder.
“Officer down,” he said. “We have a probable werewolf situation at…”
Some irresistible force compelled him to stop. A pale, handsome teenager with slicked back hair and a long flowing cape stood a few feet in front of him.
“You look so tired officer,” the teen said, in a vaguely Transylvanian accent. “Why don’t you come inside and take a load off?”
“I guess I am feeling tired,” Mac said. “Thanks. Been a long night. Been a long career, actually.”
He went inside the castle, where a party was raging.
“The zombies seem to be having fun,” Mac said.
“The party has just begun,” the mysterious teenager said.
They walked past a red satin couch with ornate clawed feet at the bottom of it.
“Your eyelids are heavy,” the mysterious teen said. “Why don’t you lie down?”
Mac did as he was told. He closed his eyes and thought how pleasant retirement was going to be.
A few days later, Officer Pete of internal affairs knocked on the door of the castle in the cemetery. He was investigating the disappearance of two police officers.
Igor led him into a back room, where he offered him a glass of lemonade.
“Like I said,” Officer Pete said. “Heard they was in the area, figured I might check. I know you had nothing to do with this, Iggy.”
“Whatever I can do to help officer,” Igor said.
“You’re a good kid,” Officer Pete said.
Officer Pete sipped his lemonade and picked a glass bottle with a tiny wooden ship off the table.
“I always wonder,” Officer Pete said. “They build these tiny ships first and build the bottle around or vice versa?”
“It was a retirement gift,” Igor said.
Officer Pete took a moment to admire the ship’s details. A tiny figure in a miniature police uniform stood rigid straight at its helm. The uniform looked so real. The little cop reminded him of someone. He found himself instinctively reaching for his gun.
“Anything else I can help you with officer?” Igor asked.
Officer Pete shook the thought from his head and put the bottle down. It had been a long day.
“I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he said. “You take care of yourself Iggy. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Previously on 13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days:
The only rule of 13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days is that the story must be posted the same night I started it.
Day 1 The Ghost’s Girlfriend
Day 2 The Girl with the Puka Shell Necklace
Day 3 The Time I Went to the Old Church Later Than I Should Have
Day 4 Ride Scare
Day 5 Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death
Day 6 A Halloween Carol
Day 7 El Mariachi de los Muertos
Day 8 Death on Demand
Day 9 The Ballad of the Cursed Mudville Maroons
