Boogers from Beyond #3

by M. D. Payne

  The more the meeting dragged on, the more I thought we’d get out of it with no problem.

  “Maybe this section of the manor isn’t haunted,” I whispered to Shane.

  “Maybe not,” he said. “Nothing happened once we got in here last night.”

  There was a squeak, and the door swung open.

  Murrayhotep walked into the room and looked around.

  “Thanks again for the help yesterday,” said Shane.

  Murrayhotep gave Shane a dirty look, and a few of the parents in the back row SHUSHed Shane as some other parent made a big point at the podium.

  “What is that grump doing here?” asked Gordon.

  Before we could ask Murrayhotep what he was doing, my mother began speaking from the podium again.

  “I just wanted to take a moment to thank Gallow Manor Retirement Home for hosting us today,” she said, smiling. “I’d especially like to thank my son and his friends for all the preparations they made over the last few days. They do an amazing job volunteering here at the retirement home. Come on up, guys, and take a bow.”

  We looked at each other in disbelief and then shuffled up to the stage behind the podium. The audience of parents and teachers applauded.

  Murrayhotep stomped his way up the center aisle toward us, his right hand raised.

  “An amazing job, my eye! These kids are no good,” yelled Murray, and dipped his hand into the bag that he was carrying. “Always bothering us. They—”

  Before I could yell at Murray for being such a grump, the mic started to produce feedback terribly.

  SCCCRRREEEEEEEEEEE!

  We all stood back from the microphone, but it didn’t help.

  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

  Murrayhotep stopped in his tracks.

  The audience covered its ears.

  My mother tried to move the microphone, but it didn’t help.

  Nothing helped.

  “Where’s Zachary?” she yelled, and jumped off the stage—

  Just as four terrifying creatures floated down from the ceiling with a bone-chilling roar.

  The Fish Sat Out Too Long

  Parents and teachers gasped as four huge, bodiless heads descended from the ceiling. Their long, barbed tongues lashed out from behind sharp tusks.

  “I guess this corner of the manor is haunted after all.” Shane gulped, dodging the dirty, insanely long and thick black hair that grew out of each head.

  Murrayhotep ran back down the aisle in the direction he’d come from. The doors slammed behind him as he left.

  “This must be the newest breed of super monster,” yelled Gordon. “Murrayhotep is scared to death!”

  The creatures growled and slowly circled the five of us as we grouped together on the stage. Drool dripped off of their tusks, and their massive eyes bulged.

  In the audience, the parents and teachers chattered nervously. I looked around for my mom, but couldn’t find her. Nobody quite knew what they were looking at—or what to do.

  “Which action plan?” screeched Nabila. “Which action plan!?”

  “Five?” Ben sounded doubtful.

  All at once, the creatures opened their mouths with the loudest roar yet. One floated out over the audience, taunting the parents and teachers. Folks were now running to the door.

  “It’s locked!” someone screamed.

  The remaining heads closed in on us on the stage.

  “Seven?” Shane sounded desperate. “All of our action plans use old monsters, and they’re not here!”

  “Just get ready,” I said.

  “For what?” Gordon asked.

  “I dunno—just get ready to defend yourself,” I said. “Kick some heads, Shane!”

  We were completely cornered, but we had to do something.

  “Everyone, please calm down,” shouted Director Z as he headed for the locked doors.

  Another creature head broke away from the stage and taunted the screaming crowd near the doors.

  “WWWWEEEEYYYYYAH!” It moaned and spat.

  Shane pulled a few karate moves on the creature heads when they dipped into his space, but they always knew right when to swing out of the way.

  “If I keep missing, I’m going to pull a muscle,” he said. He finally kicked one right in the jaw, and it flew back onto the floor, a jumble of hair and tusks.

  “Waaaa!” squealed Nabila. “One’s got Ben!”

  Arms had sprouted from the hideous face of another creature, and grabbed Ben, who was now two feet off the ground and rising.

  “Guys, help!” he yelled as he rose farther up.

  “There. Isss. No. Help. For. YOUUUUU,” moaned the head.

  “Waaaah,” screamed Ben.

  Nabila grabbed at his feet.

  The head shook Ben violently, and as it did, dust poured out of its long mane. Ben, stuck in the middle of the cloud, took in a huge breath.

  “AHHHHH . . .

  “AHHHHHHHHHH . . .

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH . . .

  “Chooooooooooooooo!” Ben slobbered and snotted onto the creature’s face. I could see a booger stuck on the bulging eye of the creature.

  “Ah!” yelled the head as it dropped Ben on the floor with an OOF. “The terrible bogies! My eyes! BLECH! Why, I’ve never in my life, or my afterlife, seen a snottier sneeze. Dear boy, learn how to cover your mouth! ACK!”

  The doors sprang open, pushing the parents and teachers back into the center of the room. The creature that had held Ben floated awkwardly past them and out of the room.

  The other floating creatures seemed confused, but quickly followed.

  None of the parents knew what to do.

  It was deathly silent.

  Ben sneezed another violent sneeze on the stage, and was knocked back onto his butt.

  We all stood frozen—dumbfounded. Our open jaws nearly touched the floor. For Shane, Gordon, Nabila, and me, it was because we couldn’t believe what had just happened. For Ben, it was because he was still choking on the dust. Nabila went over to help him.

  The parents and teachers were all dumbfounded as well. They all sat back down, and everyone looked at us with their heads cocked to the side.

  I was still standing in the middle of it all, so all eyes were on me. Gordon and Shane backed down from the stage.

  “Uhhhhhmmmm . . . ,” I said.

  Durrrrrrrrrrrr . . . , thought my brain.

  Before anyone could say anything, Director Z walked forward from the back of the room, clapping loudly.

  “Bravo! Bravo!” he called. A few of the parents turned around and watched him come their way. “What an excellent performance. So gut-wrenching, powerful . . . realistic! Ladies and gentlemen, please give the wonderful St. James Players and many of your own children a round of applause for the amazing theater piece they just performed. What amazing acting!”

  “This. Isn’t. Act. Ing,” Ben coughed.

  “Ah, but you are too modest,” countered Director Z. He squinted his eyes at me and nodded his head that I should talk.

  “Yes,” I said. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for watching our new play: Horror at Gallow Manor. We hope we’ve entertained you this afternoon!”

  The room was painfully silent.

  I bowed.

  Finally, from the very back row, Nabila’s parents rose and applauded loudly.

  “Bravo,” yelled her father. “We knew you had it in you!”

  “Oh, you’ve made us so proud,” her mother yelled. “What an amazing cultural experience.”

  Nabila took a big bow.

  The rest of the crowd began to applaud, quietly at first. Then, slowly, they all rose and applauded loudly.

  I motioned for my friends to join me on stage, and we all bowed together, poor Ben coughing the whole time. Shane
gave him a sharp slap on the back and he finally stopped.

  “I think we might win a Tony for this,” Ben gasped.

  “I think they’re just happy to think it wasn’t real,” Gordon whispered.

  “Joke’s on them,” said Shane. “That was real . . . right?”

  “I have an idea,” Nabila said. “I think that . . .”

  My mother rose—like a zombie—and walked past us to the podium.

  “Shhh,” I said to the others. “We can talk about it later. I’m just glad we somehow survived.”

  “Hi, everyone,” said my mother to the crowd, her voice shaking a bit. “I think we can hold off on new business until the next meeting. I can’t really think straight. All in favor?”

  “AYE,” the entire crowd responded.

  “What about the door prize?” asked one balding father.

  My mother grabbed a canned ham and flung it to him, nearly knocking him over.

  “It’s all yours,” she said.

  Before Director Z could say “Thank you for coming,” the crowd of concerned parents and teachers headed for the door. The Nurse escorts tried their best to walk folks out, but everyone wanted to leave as fast as possible.

  “No, no, no,” one mother said. “I can show myself out. I insist.”

  Director Z looked over at me with a concerned glance.

  “Gordon,” I whispered, “just run ahead and make sure no monsters are lurking on the way to the front door.”

  Gordon ran off, and my mother walked up to the rest of my friends and me.

  “Oh, Chrissy,” said my mother, “that was so real. I got really caught up in it. For a minute, I thought maybe the fish had gone bad, because I could have sworn I was seeing things . . .”

  “See, I told you something was up with the fish!” added Ben.

  Nabila smacked his head.

  “Is this why you’re always here so late at night, and so stressed?” asked my mother.

  I stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “Yeah,” chirped Shane. “And if you think this is good, wait until you see our karate routine! We’ll have it ready for you next month.”

  “Oh, no,” my mother gasped. “That’s quite all right. I’d hate to bother all the old folks. It was such a nice gesture that Director Z let us use this space, but I think we’ll go back to the Rotary Dinner Hall next time.”

  “Aw, come on, Mrs. T,” said Shane. “This was an amazing performance.”

  “Well,” she said, “I’ll think about it.”

  She turned to leave, still shaking a bit and mumbling to herself.

  Once she left, I turned to Shane.

  “What were you thinking, inviting my mother back to Gallow Manor after we barely survived this time?”

  Shane replied something along the lines of “I dunno,” but I could only focus on the creature that had appeared behind him.

  “GWARRRRR!” growled the creature.

  The Masked Avengers

  “WHA!” I screamed and pointed behind Shane. “It’s back!”

  Shane spun around and landed in a karate pose.

  “Kick its head,” I called out.

  Then we heard a giggle coming from underneath the horrifying face. I took a closer look to see that Nabila’s body was sticking out from under the head. Her fluorescent fanny pack was unmistakable.

  She pulled off the monster head and handed it to me.

  “I think this is a Balinese mask,” she said. “Perhaps with some sort of enchantment on it. There are similar masks in Egyptian tradition.”

  “It’s ugly,” said Ben, who grabbed the mask from my hands and sneezed again. “And heavy. Do you think this is real hair? What’s up with the mirrors on the tongue?”

  “I read in the The Book of the Dead that masks are sometimes used to protect the dead,” she said.

  “This place is obviously haunted,” said Shane.

  “By ‘the dead,’ you mean ghosts?” Ben asked.

  “The ghosts are just trying to protect themselves?” I asked. “So they’re not trying to kill us? I think it’s time we told Director Z about the vase. We need his help figuring this out, and that’s when it all started.”

  We found Director Z in the front foyer with Gordon.

  “I’ve just escorted the last old parent—or should I say grandparent—out to her car,” Director Z said. “She was quite shook-up, but in the end, I think I convinced her that she had just watched a bit of performance art. I think we somehow made it through the PTA meeting without letting out any of our secrets. If anything, it may have drawn their attention away from the residents.”

  “Director Z,” I said. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “You broke something.”

  “How did you know?” Gordon asked.

  “A major blizzard formed over the manor, for one.” Director Z started counting things off on his fingers. “Lucinda was screaming about evil spirits all night. There was a hole in the banquet hall door thanks to an ax. You—”

  “You knew?” Nabila gasped. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

  “I told you that if you broke anything, you’d pay,” he said. “I sensed a disgruntled nature in the spirits of this house and I could feel that they were very much upset with our presence. But I also knew that if we just kept to ourselves, and didn’t bother them incessantly, they’d leave us be.”

  “So the house is haunted!” said Shane.

  “Did you have any doubt after what just happened?” Ben asked.

  “I had my theories,” Shane replied.

  “What was it?” asked Director Z. “What did you break?”

  “A vase,” we all said at once.

  “Not the vase in the North Wing?” asked Director Z.

  “That’s the one,” said Gordon. “Technically the werewolves broke it!”

  “It doesn’t matter who broke it,” Director Z said. “I believe it held the ashes of one of the matriarchs of the family. You must make peace with the spirits.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “You’re smart kids, you’ll figure it out,” he said. “I’d start with the North Wing. That’s where this all started. That’s where you should try to end it.”

  “Hello?” Shane yelled into the North Wing hallway. “Ghosts? We’re so sorry. We didn’t mean to break your vase.”

  “Yeah,” added Gordon. “We were stupid, and we’re sorry. Please stop haunting us now.”

  “We brought you your mask back,” I said, holding up the mask as an offering.

  “Come out and get it,” said Ben with a sniffle.

  There was silence in the North Wing hallway.

  Nabila paced back and forth as we waited for some sort of reply.

  “All right, I’ve had enough!” she yelled. “Just because we broke the vase with your old dead mother doesn’t mean you have the right to kill us. She was already dead!”

  An angry rumble filled the hall.

  “If you have anything to say about it, come out here at ONCE!” Nabila finished with a flourish.

  “What are you doing?” Ben asked. “You’re just going to make them madder!”

  A ghostly figure appeared in the hallway and rushed toward us, raising a short sword in the air.

  “You foooools,” yelled the ghost, who, as he came closer, looked terribly old. He wore a tattered old uniform.

  “I care not about that dusty old vase,” he said. “No ashes of a blood relative lay in it.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem?” asked Shane.

  “Those terrible old monsters you’ve brought into our home,” he said, moving closer to Shane, sword still raised. “They snort and snot and burp and barf. They’re unclean. I don’t want such filth in our house. They disgust me!”


  With that, he swung his ghostly old sword at Shane’s neck.

  “Shane!” yelled Nabila.

  It went through Shane’s neck but didn’t even leave a mark.

  “Cool,” said Shane.

  “Cool?” hissed the old ghost. “I would go so far as to say that my blade is ice-cold.”

  “No, I meant ‘cool’ like ‘neat’ or ‘awesome,’” said Shane. “What time period are you from, anyway?”

  A ghostly kid appeared and ran toward us. “1897. What year is it now?”

  “2014,” I replied.

  “Wow, I’ve been dead for one hundred seventeen years. That’s thirteen times the amount of time I was alive.”

  “So you’re nine,” Nabila said, never failing a math quiz. “We’re all eleven and twelve. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Quincy,” he replied. “And this is my great-grandfather, George Stratford.”

  “That’s Lieutenant Commander Stratford to you,” he grumbled.

  “You’ll have to pardon my grandfather,” said another ghost as he joined Quincy and George. “He talks so much about these old monsters that sometimes I think he’s the old monster.”

  Another ghost appeared out of nowhere. A woman. And then a little girl came into view.

  “That’s my mother, Mary Stratford, but she likes to be called Lady Stratford,” said Quincy. “And my three-year-old sister, Leila.”

  Five ghosts in total.

  “We’re so sorry we frightened you,” Lady Stratford said. “But we were at our wits’ end. When those werewolves destroyed the vase and left such a mess, why, we couldn’t help but lash out.”

  “They can’t stand messes,” added Quincy.

  “But we never would have hurt you,” Quincy’s father said. “We were just trying to convince you to leave this house.”

  “It was you in those masks?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Quincy’s father.

  “I collected those terrifying masks from the island of Bali during a tour with the Royal Navy,” said George. “They are said to channel the spirit of Rangda—an evil witch who eats small children. I thought they’d spook you out of the house good, but here you are now, standing right in front of me.”