This story was written for Pensitivity 101’s Three Things Challenge #331
Today’s threes Prompt’s are: Cordial, wine, spirit
Here’s what I came up with:
I entered the room with a shudder, the room was filled with spirit. Unfortunately for those providing it – it was of the ghostly kind. Oh, sure the atmosphere was most cordial as everybody hovered about chatting away. Every spirit was being affable to a fault, friendly and warm. Another surprise when every last guest had been stone-cold dead for years.
“Quit wining, Madam Ebriis,” said a Victorian gentleman I could see straight through.
“Your puns get worse, dear Edmund. You mean whining.” The lady emphasized the ‘h’ in the word as she went on in her rich voice. “The wine is over there. It’ll do you know good though, I’ll have you know.”
“And why pray tell is that?” he said.
“Your stomach is spectral at best. Why the wine will pass straight through your pretentious body and spill all over the bloody the floor.” Madam Ebriis simpered as she glided through a table containing an array of desiccated and rotten cakes.
I stayed by the door. It was no fun being the only living one in the room. The ghosts had a habit of floating right through me. I either end up shivering out of my boots or so hot I’d pass out – neither a pleasant experience.
“Ahh, Patrick, old boy. So, glad you decided to come,” said Edmund spotting me and flying over.
“Do, I get a choice?” I sighed and glared at an elfin boy as he tried to possess me with his near-transparent hands. He got the message and scooted off through my sofa. “You always host your celebration in my living room.”
Edmund shuddered. “Do you have to call it that …” he put a hand to his mouth. “It’s very distasteful of you to call a room such a thing with all us ghosts in here. Why not call it a lounge, a parlour, a drawing-room? Anything but the L-Word.”
“Doesn’t change anything. You’re still in my room and was going to watch TV until I stumbled upon your deathly affair again.” I raced across the room and grabbed a floating dog ornament. “Poltergeist’s, I’m warning you. If you insist on throwing my things. I will exorcise every last one of you – got that!”
“Temper, Temper, dear boy,” remarked a round phantom wearing striped trousers, a waistcoat and a monocle. “The kids are only having a little fun.”
I felt the little vein in my forehead beginning to pulse. “This ornament was made as a representation of my dog Dixie. It’s very special to me as are all my belongings. Either stop breaking them or leave!”
“I’ll have you know, this was our grand ballroom long before this shabby structure was built in its place.” Remarked Madam Ebriis on her way to see a third or fourth cousin on her mother’s side.
“You really should learn to be more cordial you know, sir Patrick.” Edmund said, “Funny thing. Did you know that in my day a cordial was an invigorating, stimulating preparation intended for ingestion for medicinal purposes? Now it’s your time and it’s a bloody sweet fruit juice for mixing with water.” Edmund laughed so hard he shot straight through the ceiling.
I heard something shatter in my bedroom and groaned.
“Here, have a scone,” offered a spectral chef wafting over with a silver tray in hand.
I looked at his furry mould covered offerings and nearly puked. “Scone! I’d say they’re gone. They look like they died during the English Civil war!”
“Well, it’s better than the wedding cake – it’s always in tears.” Edmund came back hooting with laughter. You don’t what the other one either. Old William ate a slice and choked to death; it’s a coughee cake you see!”
I stifled a grin. “Yeah – very funny.” I walked to my drinks cabinet and selected a bottle of wine. Popping the cork, I swore as it bounced off my forehead and shattered the ceiling lightbulb.
“Haha – Now you have a real Riesling to complain.” Edmund went on.
“I don’t think so dear,” said Madam Ebriis returning.
“Really why? The bottles the right shape.”
“I know, I just mean he’s been having a white whining all day!”
The ghosts fell about laughing.
“Will you two shut up!” I yelled before drinking a long glass of wine.
“Maybe if we make him dead so he can properly join us, he’ll become more amiable.” suggested the chef.
“Oh, no let’s not do that.” Madam Ebriis intoned. It would be a horrendous mistake.
“Why? I think it’ll be an — oh I see.” Edmund peered at me glumly.
“What now!” I stamped a foot.
“Well, dear.” Began Madam Ebriis “You’re already angry. If you die like this—”
“You’ll become Patrick the Pissed-off Poltergeist and that will never do!” Edmund finished caterwauling with laughter.
I saw red, “That’s it! Get out!
Have a great day!