The Incompetent Ghost of Pembrokeshire
In a house on a hill in Pembrokeshire was a ghost. How long this ghost was in this house no one knew, but he appeared to be a very old ghost, with a long white beard and wrinkled cheeks and a bald head except for a few wispy hairs.
One day, as the old ghost floated through the walls of the house, he heard a noise. The slamming of the front door. Poking his head through the ceiling he saw them, a family! A mother, a father and two little ones; a boy and a girl. It had been so long since he’d had a good haunting, there’d been no family in the house for years. Fluffing up his beard and puffing out his cheeks, he made his best scary face and swooped down from the ceiling to give them a spook…
The mother, the father and the two little ones stared back at him. Perplexed the ghost fled back up into the ceiling and into his hideaway in the attic. Maybe they didn’t see him? Maybe they were too stunned to speak and were frozen in fright? There was only one thing for it, he’d give them a right good scaring the next chance he got!
He found the father in the shed. Turning invisible he lifted the hammer off his bench and waved it, sure to give the father an awful spook!
“Oh, thank you, I was looking for that!”
The father plucked the hammer out of the air and went about his work. Incredulous the ghost flew back into the house, his white beard twitching with anger. Floating into the living room he found the mother, in her armchair reading a book. He crept over, and when he reached the side of her armchair, he waved his hands, flapping the pages of the book.
“Oh dear! That made me nearly lose my page.”
With that the mother hopped up and gave the ghost a cheery smile as she walked out of the room. Exasperated the ghost headed back upstairs. The children would surely cry at the sight of him! Floating just below their bedroom floor, he swelled himself up, put on his meanest face and burst up into the room! As his eyes met theirs, he was met with the sound of...
As they laughed, he shrank down, his cheeks sinking and his beard drooping. The children giggled as they tried to play with the strands of hair on his face, before a knock on the door came.
“Come on now Mr. Ghost” said the father, “let’s have a chat”
Slinking downstairs, the ghost sat sheepishly in the armchair whilst the rest of the family settled down.
“Now then” the father started, “we’ve noticed you’ve been trying to do some haunting. And don’t get me wrong! Cracking attempts, but maybe a bit too…”
“Obvious” the mother chimed in, “you see we had a brilliant ghost at our old place. He was always thinking of new ways to get us. Sometimes we’d go years without seeing him and then... boo!”
The father laughed “that’s right, he’d make me jump out of my boots! Hey, maybe that’s what you need, take a few years off and give us a real fright when we least expect it!”
The rest of the family nodded in agreement as the ghost thought. After a short while he looked up and nodded as well. With that he swooped up and away.
Years passed, the children grew older, and the parents grew greyer, and the ghost they’d once met was all but forgotten. Then, one night, as wind howled and rain lashed their windows whilst they sat cosy in their living room, a spectre burst from the fireplace! Terrifying and looming, it’s white beard coloured orange by the dancing flame. The family screamed out and huddled together, holding themselves tight before the phantom. But soon, replacing the screams, a familiar laughter. As the spirit shrank with a smile on its face, delighted to finally be a horrible haunter once again!