The Ghostly Ghastlys Book 1: Finding A Home Read online

  They found themselves in a side street called Chamber Road. A tall dark building stood next to the restaurant. The front door had a rusting doorknob, peeling paint and a lopsided “Entrance” sign. Another sign read: “Town Museum.” It looked as if no-one had been inside it for years.

  The little Ghastlys drifted closer. The grime on the window panes was so thick they couldn’t see inside.

  A large white cat strolled across the front of the building and turned round the corner to the back of the house.

  The little Ghastlys went in through the letter box. Letters made piles on the broken tiles of the floor inside. The envelopes were marked “To the Occupier” and “Urgent.” Bubble dived into the piles and tossed the letters up in a cloud.

  They were in a wide hallway. There was a counter to one side and stairs to the other.

  The counter had yellowed leaflets on it, with curled up corners. An old fashioned till with big round push down buttons stood on the counter. A dull, stained bell had a “Please ring” sign next to it. Trouble rang. A single tinny tinkle came from it, and died away.

  Dark moth-eaten tapestries hung on the walls. Puff floated in and out of the holes, sending out streams of dust and threads of fibres.

  The place had a hushed, unused feeling to it.

  Mr and Mrs Ghastly dropped in through the letter box, and floated around the hallway.

  A painted notice with an arrow pointed to a door on the left. It read:

  This Way to the Museum

  Together the Ghastlys drifted into a long high room which reached from the front of the building to the back. A single window faced onto Chamber Road and there was another covered with ivy was at the other end. Dim moonlight lit a table laid with plates, cups, glasses, knives, forks and spoons. In the centre was a tarnished silver stand. It held artificial flowers, fruit and metal feathers. Everything was steeped in dust and dust motes were caught in the light from the street.

  Grimy glass display cabinets stood against the walls. The cabinets were filled with pots, bits of metal, letters, books and more curled up yellow signs. Flags and arrows were hung on the walls, and spider webs dangled between mirrors, wall hangings and bell pulls.

  “What a magnificent fire place,” said Mr Ghastly. He rubbed his ghostly hands and drifted across to it. “We’ll have a good blaze here.” He looked severely at the little Ghastlys, who had made a trail of envelopes into the long room.

  Mrs Ghastly breezed about the room, admiring the cracked marble, the faded pictures and the threadbare carpets. “Very tasteful,” she said.

  “My dear, a most delightful residence,” said Mr Ghastly.

  “Yes, indeed,” said Mrs Ghastly. “And nobody lives here. No-one for the little Ghastlys to annoy.”

  “You are exactly right as always, my dear,” said Mr Ghastly. “We’ll stay.”

  Bubble crept behind chairs with the stuffing coming out of them, and disturbed a nest of creepy crawlies. Trouble shot up the chimney and slid back yelling “Weeee!” Black soot ballooned out of the fireplace. Puff blew on the cobwebs and spiders raced away on their dusty threads.

  The little Ghastlys looked at each other, and grinned.

  “It’s good here,” said Bubble.

  “Yep,” said Trouble.

  “Yay, Ghastlys,” said Puff, holding her hands up, and all three slapped their hands together in the air.

  Suddenly, there were three cries. “Help! Help! Help!”

  Chapter 6. Please Let Us Out!

  The cries came again. It made spiders wobble and light shades rattle.

  The Ghastlys listened, hovering in mid-air. “Help! Help! Help!” came the voices and “Please let us out!”

  “My dear,” said Mr Ghastly. “I do believe our new home is haunted. I would have preferred a place to ourselves. We had better make friends with the other ghosts, and see how we get on.”

  Mr and Mrs Ghastly floated up the stairs, calling, “Hello there!”

  “We’ll look too,” said Bubble and she led the little Ghastlys out through another door. They found a kitchen. The back door was jammed half-open. Leaves had blown in and piled up on the stone floor.

  The white cat was curled up on the wooden draining board. It stared at the little Ghastlys with one eye open, then it stretched lazily and stood up. “Hey!” said Trouble tweaking its whiskers. The cat hissed, jumped down, bent itself round the back door and vanished outside.

  “There are no ghosts in here,” said Puff nosing about the kitchen. They found chipped bowls and cracked crocks, left over mouldy food, mops, dusters, falling-apart boxes and square lumps of green soap. Bells hung up near the ceiling. They floated inside and tried to ring them. Only dull thuds came out and the little Ghastlys sent down a shower of rust.

  They drifted back into the hallway.

  Mr and Mrs Ghastly glided down the stairs. “We can’t find the ghosts,” said Mrs Ghastly.

  “Mum and Dad are hopeless at finding anyone,” whispered Bubble to her brother and sister. “We’ll look.” She led the other two up to a dark landing. A door stood open. They floated in. They were in a bedroom with a huge grimy window overlooking Chamber Road. There was a four-poster bed with curtains round it, tied with ragged once-gold tassels.

  Bubble undid the ties and a family of moths flew out of the curtains.

  “Wee-oooh!” shouted Trouble jumping on the bed. He bounced in and out of the covers until the room was cloudy with dust.

  “What’s in here?” asked Puff and she blew herself in through a keyhole in a tall wardrobe. Old fashioned dresses and musty coats were hanging from hooks. She flew into a hat and made it swoop and sway as if it had come alive.

  They searched the house from top to bottom. Though they called and shouted, they could not find the ghosts. Sometimes they heard the plaintive cries but the voices faded away and the house went quiet again. Disappointed, the little Ghastlys floated back to the long room.

  “Not all ghosts want to show themselves,” said Mr Ghastly. “We will leave them alone. That’s good for us too. We will respect their privacy, and they will respect ours.”

  The Ghastlys settled into the old museum. It felt like home straightaway. The white cat wandered in and out and curled up in wardrobes, under tables, on beds and along the mantelpiece. It ignored them all. Sometimes its ears would prick up and the hair on the back of its neck would stand on end, as if it was hearing something the Ghastlys didn’t.

  The cries for help came and went from time to time. Mr and Mrs Ghastly took no notice. They went off to give their night-time performances in the woods.

  The little Ghastlys were left alone in the evenings. They searched again and again for ghosts, but found none.

  One night they drifted around the long room, and in and out of the display cases. Every day was much like the one before it. It would be exciting to solve the mystery of the other ghosts, but they could find no clues. The white cat strolled in from the kitchen and settled down on the table. Suddenly, its ears perked up. It sat up, tense and alert, and gave a loud meow. Then it jumped down, shot into the hallway, and bolted up the stairs.

  The cries came again. “Help! Let us out!”

  “Where are you?” called Bubble, floating into the middle of the room.

  “The cat heard them before we did,” said Trouble.

  “Ghosts can get out of any tiny hole,” said Puff. “Even our dad can.”

  “Every hole and crack would have to be plugged up for ghosts to be trapped,” said Bubble.

  “That’s impossible,” said Trouble.

  “So why would they want us to let them out if they can get themselves out?” asked Puff.

  The little Ghastlys looked at each other.

  “If they can’t get out that means…,” started Bubble.

  “… that they aren’t ghosts at all!” cried Trouble and Puff together.

  Chapter 7. Not Ghosts

  “But we’ve looked everywhere,” said Bubble.

  “They must
be trapped,” said Trouble.

  “There has to be a place where we haven’t looked,” said Puff.

  They started searching again. They hunted through the kitchen, the long room, the hall and the dark room on the other side of the hall which was full of boxes and rubbish. They looked in all the crevices, behind the display cabinets and even squeezed themselves under the floorboards.

  They floated upstairs and searched there, but they could not find any trapped people, whether ghosts or not.

  The cat was curled up asleep on the dusty four poster bed.

  “It knows something,” said Bubble.

  Trouble gave it a ghostly poke. The cat twitched its ears but it didn’t bother to look up.

  “Animals can see us properly, not just as grey clouds,” said Puff, “but it isn’t interested in us.”

  The cat stretched and rolled over.

  Then, suddenly, both eyes flashed open, its ears pricked up, and the hairs down its back stood on end.

  The voices came. “Help! Help! Let us out, please!”

  The cat shot off the bed, out of the room and onto the landing. It ran down to the far end at the back of the house. It pushed aside a hanging tapestry, lifted a paw and scratched the wall.

  With a grinding noise, a panel swung back to reveal narrow, winding steps. The cat bounded up them. The little Ghastlys followed. At the top was an old wooden door. The door was heavily marked at the bottom with long scratches.

  The cat stretched out one front paw, meowed and scraped at it.

  Rattling sounds came from behind the door.

  “Help!” called a squeaky voice.

  “Please let us out,” came another.

  “We’ve been here for years and years,” said a third voice.

  The voices were muffled as if they were hidden under layers of thick clothes.

  The Ghastlys tried to push the door open, but it was locked. The key was sticking out of the lock. Bubble bounced on it but it was too stiff to turn.

  “The lock’s stuck,” called Bubble through the keyhole.

  “Why are you shut in there?” called Trouble.

  “Why did you go in there, if you didn’t want to get stuck?” said Puff.

  “We’ve forgotten, it’s been so long,” came the voices. “Don’t leave us. Nobody has seen us for such a long time.”

  The Ghastlys tried the key again, but it still wouldn’t move.

  The voices called out more sadly than ever. “Please let us out. We don’t want to stay here for ever.”

  The cat meowed and scraped the door again.

  The little Ghastlys squeezed through the crack between the doorframe and the door. There was no light the other side of the door. They floated about, bumping into squashy things that felt like coats and costumes.

  “We can’t find you,” said Bubble.

  “We are here, in the cupboard,” came the reply. “Please don’t leave us. Only the cat comes to talk to us. Before the cat no-one talked to us for such a long, long time.”

  “We can’t find you. We can’t even see you,” said Trouble. “We need to get the door open.”

  “Oh, please, get the door open. Then we can come out.”

  “I could get into the lock and turn it from inside,” said Puff. “I’m little and I can make myself even smaller.”

  “We’d be ever so, ever so grateful,” came the voices.

  Puff slipped in through the keyhole and used her ghostly arms to pull on the levers of the lock. Nothing happened. “It’s no good! I can’t shift it,” she called.

  “Please try again,” came the voices. Puff did, but still nothing happened.

  “We would so much like to see the sun shine,” came the voices.

  “Trouble and I could try pushing and pulling on the key out here,” said Bubble.

  “Puff, you push on the levers inside the lock at the same time,” said Trouble.

  “Okay,” said Puff.

  On the count of three, Bubble and Trouble hauled at the key on the outside and Puff pushed the levers inside the lock. Their ghostly muscles strained with the effort,

  With a grinding clunk and a clank the lock clicked back.

  Puff joined the others and, huffing and puffing, they shoved the door open.

  Chapter 8. We’re Ticklish

  Clouds of dust fell from the cupboard. Out of the clouds stepped a skeleton.

  “Hello,” he said. “Thank you. I’m Bones. I have the most bones.”

  Out hopped another skeleton, rattling as he came.

  “I’m Rattle,” said the next skeleton. “I have a lot of bones missing. I try not to rattle too much."

  After him came a third skeleton.

  “I’m Smash, short for Smasher,” she said. “I have a smashing grin as I have the most teeth.”

  “Thank you for rescuing us,” said the skeletons, all together. “We were under thick coats and clothes and loads and loads and loads of dust.”

  “You can see us!” said Bubble.

  “People don’t see us,” said Trouble, “except as grey clouds.”

  “Usually, that is,” said Puff.

  “We can see you clearly,” said Bones, nodding his head. “Now that the dust has settled.”

  “We’re not people,” said Rattle.

  “We can also hear exceptionally well,” said Smash.

  The white cat purred and rubbed itself against each of the skeletons’ legs in turn, then it ran off down the winding steps.

  The Ghastlys floated in and out of the skeletons’ bones. The skeletons twitched.

  “We’re ticklish,” they said all together, showing big toothy grins.

  The skeletons wobbled as they walked down the stairs. They clutched at the rail, but soon they were walking better. They looked around.

  “What wonderful round worm holes in this wood,” said Bones, as they went across the landing.

  The night had turned to morning and patches of light shone through the window.

  “See how the crack in the window pane makes everything look double,” said Rattle.

  “Listen to this,” said Smash. She jumped up and down on a floorboard. It made a grinding, creaking noise. Delighted, Bones and Rattle joined her and together they made louder, squeakier, creakier noises.

  Mr and Mrs Ghastly came in from their performance in the woods. They drifted up the stairs and saw the skeletons.

  “Do you belong to the museum?” asked Mrs Ghastly.

  “I don’t think we belong to anything,” said Bones.

  “It’s been so long we have forgotten if we belonged anywhere,” said Rattle.

  “We used to live in the cupboard,” said Smash, “but now we'd like to live in other parts of the museum.”

  “Would you mind sharing with us?” asked Mr Ghastly. “There's plenty of room.”

  “It would be a pleasure,” said Bones, politely.

  “This is a very nice place,” said Rattle.

  “We’re very grateful for being let out of the cupboard,” said Smash.

  “You don’t mind rattling, do you?” asked Bones.

  “You see, I do rattle a bit,” said Rattle, anxiously. “I have lots of bones missing.”

  “He does try very hard to be quiet,” said Smash.

  Mr and Mrs Ghastly said that was quite all right, they were used to noise, what with the little Ghastlys.

  “Skeletons are much better than people to live with,” said Mrs Ghastly.

  “You are right, my dear,” said Mr Ghastly. “The skeletons are so polite. They will be a good influence on the little Ghastlys.”

  The little Ghastlys made faces at each other. They didn’t want anyone to be a good influence. Then they saw the skeletons’ happy grins, and grinned back.

  Yes, the skeletons would be much nicer to live with than the castle ghosts.

  Just then a clattering noise came from the front door. They shot downstairs and peered through the hall window. A man in a striped suit stood there. He dropped a lett
er through the letterbox, and then walked back down the road.

  The letter was addressed to “The Occupier.” It had “Very Urgent” written on the envelope.

  “Silly people stuff,” said Mrs Ghastly, floating down the stairs.

  The little Ghastlys blew the letter about the hallway.

  “Nothing to bother us, my dear,” said Mr Ghastly.

  Little did Mr Ghastly know there was something for him to be very bothered about, and this time it wasn’t the little Ghastlys’ amazing mischief.

  It is all in Book 2. It’s called Branwing.

  The Ghostly Ghastly Series

  Book 1 Finding A Home

  Book 2 Branwing

  Book 3 Alfonso

  More Ghostly Ghastly stories to follow later

  Other books by Barbara Godwin and illustrated by Christina Boon

  Pizzas Pirate and a Porcupine

  The elephant in the picture is called Edward. He is going to have his own adventure. See some more pictures of him on

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Barbara-Godwin/104964359685061?fref=ts

  Mr McMarvel’s Amazing Machines

  What sort of machine would you invent?

  Follow the adventures on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Barbara-Godwin/104964359685061?fref=ts

  and Barbara Godwin’s blog:

  https://www.barbaragodwin.wordpress.com