You can listen to this being read on YouTube.
When you die pretty much before you had the chance to learn anything about anything being a ghost is hard.
I mean it ain’t like there’s ghost schools nor stuff like that. No siree. Some guy with a big knife tells you you’re dead but you can’t go to heaven nor the other place because you’re too little for them to know what you might have become.
And besides which, there’s the small matter of what that man done to you afore he killed you dead.
It ain’t easy.
So you start watching him and you start to understand that you been given the chance to stop him. But it ain’t gonna be easy.
Once you make up your mind what to do it’s just a matter of working out how to do it.
It took some thought, but little don’t necessarily equal stupid and the plan feels as smooth and deadly as the knives he used on your skin.
For weeks now he has heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet following him around the emptiness of his house, and every night a sweet voice whispers ‘daddy’ in his hairy ear as he lays in his wide, white bed chasing after the sleep that won’t come.
But tonight. Tonight when the veil is thin. Tonight he gets the comeuppance that is so far overdue. Tonight you let him fall asleep and wait at the side of his bed until the clock strikes midnight. Then you awaken him with your claws in his face, and when his eyes fly open you howl your pain and sorrow to the full moon that floats in the sky like a blue ship.
“Daddy. Daddy,” you cry as you take his big body in your insubstantial arms and bend your mouth to his brown throat.
His screams are your reward for a life cut short and an agonising death. His screams and the way his sanity dribbles out of his ears and runs away.
“Happy Halloween you murdering bastard…”