Once upon a time, there lived a mouse named Micky in a deep forest. He had a cozy little home inside an old oak tree, where he had everything a mouse could desire—a soft bed made of moss and a supply of treats. But Micky didn’t like being alone, so he decided to invite his cheerful cousin Ricky to visit.
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It was a school day like any other, but that day Chupchip and Toothy Boo were much more excited to go to school than usual.
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My last haunting didn’t work out. My brother Sneak told our parents about it like it was a great joke. They didn’t think it was all that funny. They were pretty upset and sent me to haunt the floor below the next night.
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It was a crafty day at the spooky school today. All the little ghosts were given the task of making cards for their moms, who would soon have their special day. Mother’s Day was coming up, and even ghosts wanted to show their moms how much they love them.
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Chupchip was walking slowly home from school. He missed The Booboobus again because he took too long with his lunch. He didn’t like fish. He didn’t enjoy picking the little bones out.
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The sun was shining and smiling, just like every summer holiday in Wraithmoor. But Toothy Boo wasn’t happy. She was looking out at the meadow, where a little boy was running around with his dog.
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Just outside the town, next to the rocks, there was a large pond. The water was deep, with carp and catfish gliding below the surface, frogs hopping around the edges, and a water sprite living at the very bottom of the pond. He was a kind little green man.
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Inspired by an Italian folk tale
In a little house there lived three young ladies. One was sixty-seven, another was seventy-five, and the third, well, she was ninety-four. Their house had a little balcony, where all three of them liked to watch people walking by on the street and see what was happening in town.
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There was an old tall tree which stood in the middle of a meadow a short distance from Wraithmoor. It has stood there for many, many years. It was a huge oak. According to one legend, the vampire Dracula himself used to rest on it.
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Nature is getting ready to sleep in autumn. The ghosts in Wraithmoor are harvesting the crops from their gardens and raking the leaves that have fallen from the trees.
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