Page 93 of The Neighborhood Ghost

Candles of green and white burned atop the fireplace mantel. Their bubbling wax dripped down to the floor like gnarled fingers of ghosts of the candles of Christmases’ past. A large red candle rested in the center of the mantle, the showpiece of all the candles. The Christmas candle—the symbol of returning light in the darkness.

A Christmas tree, tall enough for the star on top to touch the ceiling, nestled into the corner of the living room on the other side of the red Victorian couch. The branches bent and strained with the weight of the colorful ornaments and lights. Every space maximized. It was trimmed in gold ribbon. A true sight and spectacle. A testament to the ideals of Christmas.

Brightly colored packages filled the space beneath the tree. Gifts for Christmas. A joyous celebration of returning to light after the hardship they had endured in the darkness. Eachpackage contained a thoughtful gift of admiration and love for the recipient.

Max laid on the floor, her legs tucked to her side. Her front paws were outstretched with her nose nestled in between. Her tail wagged back and forth across the dark hardwood flooring. It left behind trails of shedding fur; clumps of hair formed and were swooshed away. She let out a low moan, a growl of displeasure. Her brown eyes focused on the packages beneath the tree.

“Two more days,” Hugo said as he sat on the red Victorian couch. His feet propped up on the coffee table. A college football game played on the TV above the fireplace. “You two can wait two more days.”

Next to Max was her partner-in-crime, the horse-dog Galahad. He floated as close to the floor as possible. The footrest placed on the floor, the tip of his handle hovered a few inches off the ground. He, too, fixated on the packages beneath the tree. Waiting. Anticipating. He tapped twice against the floor.

“Two. Days. You’re not opening anything before then,” Hugo repeated.

Max moaned once again.

“Learn patience. Be like Gwennie. She’s being calm floating there.”

The ash broomstick floated in front of the Christmas tree. The tip of the handle focused on the TV, almost as if she were watching along with Hugo. She floated like a silent sentinel, guarding the entire room.

Max moaned into a bark.

“How about a treat?” Hugo said.

Max sprung to her feet at the magic word, ‘treat.’ She trotted over to Hugo. She placed her head on his leg. Galahad, always the one to be involved in the action, followed the golden retriever.

“Come on,” Hugo said as he flung the remote onto the couch cushions. He stood and went into the kitchen, the parade of dog and broomstick following behind him.

Hugo opened the pantry doors and took out a white metal container. He pulled the lid off and retrieved the tan, bone-shaped biscuit inside. He handed it to Max, who gingerly took it from Hugo’s hand. Her teeth slowly clamped down on the baked goodness. Once secured, she took off running back into the living room. Galahad followed.

Three knocks rapped against the black front door.

Hugo eyed the door down the hall as he placed the container back in the pantry. Three more knocks rang out. Max was far too preoccupied with her treat to bark at the visitor. He shut the pantry door and scurried down the hallway. Guinevere was waiting at the living room entrance closest to the door, fulfilling her protective duty to guard against intruders.

“It’s okay, Gwennie,” Hugo assured the floating broomstick. He cracked open the door, drawing the attention of the impish golden retriever with the hickory broomstick following behind. He pointed at the welcoming party, holding up a finger.

“You two stay here,” he commanded.

They ignored him and wanted to see who was calling at this late afternoon hour.

“Back,” Hugo muttered under his breath.

The dog and the broomstick kept coming. Max wormed her way between Hugo and the wall to peek through the crack in the door. Hugo shooed her back with his hand, placing his body against the wall.

“Back. Back,” Hugo said in a raised voice as he shooed everyone back away from the prying eyes outside.

He flattened himself against the wall, opened the door enough, and slipped outside. He shut the door behind him. Hugo turned to face a delivery man standing on the gray porch.

“Dogs,” Hugo muttered.

“Sign here, please,” the delivery man said.

“Sure thing,” Hugo said as he took the digital delivery pad. He signed his name with the tip of his index finger.

“Gnarly teeth,” the delivery man said.

Hugo shot a glance at the delivery man, never moving his head, his eyes darting up to the top of his eyelids. “Excuse me?”

“Your teeth. They’re pretty good replicas. They look almost real. But wasn’t Halloween like two months ago?”

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