Normally I’d have a new update for the Nausicaä project today but overtime came calling. Instead of a Character Profiles entry I present to you a little story about a stuffed dinosaur and a poltergeist in training.
This may be the start of Flash Fridays.
“Oh for the love of…” his hand rippled as he shook away the pain.
“Come on Todd, it’s just a toy,” Carl the haunt proctor said.
“My name’s Mort! You do it if you think it’s easy!”
“That’s an auto-fail…Mort. Just focus and keep your temper in check.”
Mort’s translucent face darkened as he crushed the anger down. The air in the room shivered as a fragment of his rage knocked a snow globe from the shelf next to the girl’s bed.
“Focus? Seriously? Next thing you’ll say is that I should float through some incense to ‘recharge my chakras’!”
Mort looked at the bed, the sleeping girl, and the infuriating plush dinosaur. Its long neck was pinned under her chin but Mort felt the thing’s judgement.
He reached out again. A tingle of energy resisted him and he pushed harder. Ectoplasm bubbled off his face. Something released and his hand jerked into the dinosaur.
Pure agony ripped through his body and he screamed. Mort’s frustration ignited into incandescent rage.
There was a loud crack as both spirits were hurled away from the bed. Curls of spiritual energy shimmered and pulled away from the walls as they began to reform.
“That’s enough ya gits!”
A deep Scottish brogue cut through the room from the direction of the still soundly sleeping child. The long neck of the dinosaur had turned and its plastic eyes regarded them with contempt.
“Did the toy just talk?” Carl’s voice was shaky as his jaw solidified.
“Get ye gone spirits,” the dinosaur’s voice was steady and radiated power through the stitched line of its mouth.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Mort’s body rippled as the last tears sealed.
“Now you listen here you sack of fluff! This is my Spook Accreditation Exam and no stupid plush thing is gonna keep me from getting my card! Prepare to get shredded!”
Mort’s body brightened as his emotions ran riot.
“Fair warning fairly given,” the dinosaur said.
“Specters and fiends, spirits and devils,” it bellowed. “Get thee hence from this plane! By the power of Bronto Kittles, the third of that name, guardian of Becky Silverstein, protector of mortal realms, and incarnate scourge of evil! I command thee! BE GONE!”
Both ghosts screamed as their bodies were torn to gooey ribbons. Their remains evaporated in seconds leaving the bedroom suddenly silent.
“Bronto?” the girl’s eyes opened sluggishly and she looked around the room. All was quiet, calm, and peaceful. She hugged her dinosaur close. It was warm. Comforting. Safe. She yawned and was back in her dream, a princess with a jet pack, saving her brontosaurus sidekick from bumbling monsters.