Publisher: Ninestar Press
Length: 24,800 words
Tags: Halloween story. Horror. Ghosts. Funny.
Clarence and Bryant thought an all expense trip to visit family in Wisconsin would offer a pleasant break from the doldrums of Arizona life. There was, however, a catch: Bryant’s sister bought a room where you could supposedly see and speak to the dead. Assuming the entire thing is a hoax—sea monkeys for rich people—Bryant and Clarence travel east on their family’s dime.
A surprise awaits them. The room works as advertised, allowing the human eye access to the spirit world, and the ghost inside has a thing or two to teach them about the afterlife.
Happily married Clarence and Bryant score an invite to Bryant’s sister’s house. She thought it’d be suuuper cute to have a young dead girl as her own special captive ghost. Some people have pumpkins, ya know? Me to BA: You do you, gurl. Anyways, we so know Betty Anne and her skeevy husband, Mark. They’re those obnoxious nouveau riche relatives who just can’t be tastefully wealthy, no no no. NO! They have to tell you how rich they are and make sure you know you can’t be like them, all fake glam and throwing shade. BUT~ you don’t wanna be like them. Nooo. You wanna laugh at them, even if Mark likes to call you lame names like Clare and Bry-guy. Or is HI~larious and says things like come on, ladies.
Soooooo…. the scoop, this is a Halloweenie novella. But you say Halloween and I say any family holiday~ cough cough Christmas~ because no matter what hol, the goldarn relatives are within spittin’ distance.
This was the visual cast in my head.
It starred Bryant and Clarence, a hotter Josh and Drake. Because Grammy. Who doesn’t love Grammy?
Bryant and Clarence were AH~Mazing and I wanted to hang with them. Not at Betty Anne’s McCrypt in Doom, Wisconsin. When they got back home later. Then I’d hang out. My bf could nerd out with Saint Nerd. Who am I kidding? We’d both nerd out.
Betty Anne. What an uppity biotch! Kellyanne Conway got cast in that role. Me to you: I’m sorry fellow readers. I apologise, and it’s creepy of me, but that’s who she was. Kellyanne Creepy Conway with a ghost child in her house. You can see it. She’s totes sucking the life blood out of her soul like La Femme Dorian Grey. Is there justice in this tale of horror and soul-sucking? Can Bryant and Clarence, America, fight back? Do demonic spawn need a union now?
First off there’s Who let me dress myself?
Then there’s I’m superior to you, bitches.
Then there’s Imma cut you if you try to leave my house without me saying so and making you admit you’re shook by my wealth ghost.
I mustn’t forget about Kellyanne’s limp~noodled husband.
Sorry not sorry Mark, but you suffer severe TPS. Terrible Person Syndrome.
Mark’s a shady bitch. Even Kellyanne and the anti-Casper know it. Amy grinned and jerked her thumb toward Mark as if to say, Can you believe this guy? Bryant gave it a humorless laugh. Even a possible soul-sucking demon thought Bryant’s brother-in-law was a total dick.
Me: Because soul-sucking demons have more morals.
Betty Anne called, “Don’t do it, Mark. She’s not a ghost. She’s a hijacker.”
Clarence groaned out, “Hijacker?”
Anti-Casper made me giggle.
Why the panic room? Why’s Mark suuuch a suck? How do you take down a Kellyanne? How does Kristen Stewart still have that same look on her face, like, 15 years later?
There are some answers~obvs not about Kristen Stewart.
A helluva lot happens when Amy busts loose. Helloooo, people. Has no one ever explained to you that you don’t trust children? In horror stories. Err, yes. Just in horror stories.
Three children sat on the bed. Their feet splayed out playfully, hanging slightly over the edge. Attuned to the same rhythm, they clicked the heels of their black shoes in harmony. Each pair of black, red-tinted eyes bedeviled him. Their white skin flaked like old paint. Their teeth, a blinding white in the darkness, were perfect. The one in the middle tittered. Quick as lightning, the other two scampered away.
Oh Amanda, it’s because people do die, honey~sweetie.
Madness follows. Amy’s outta control. The home security is the anti~security. So, who you gonna call? Can’t tell ya!!
Poetess Rebecca Black’s got my review feels covered~ Ooh oooh ooh, hoo yeah yeah. Fun fun fun fun. Who could say it better?