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[attr="class","bisc"]It all started with a dare. Someone had called him a Torchic, and he’d kind of taken offense to that. Then, next thing he knew, he was walking through this creepy house with a flashlight. Knowing Jangle wouldn’t approve—she was the real scaredy cat—he’d chosen his new bestest buddy to come along.

A street mutt turned roly-poly Houndour named Woof. He was a chonker with a friendly grin and silly walk. He also actually listened to Scotti. A real winning combination for the baker’s man.

The caution tape was brushed aside with only a brief hesitation. Then, the exploring began. His buddies asked him to bring back proof he’d been in here. The prize for the trespassing? A big, fat goose egg. Padding along the bottom floor, Biscotti and his silly buddy searched for something to carry out. As time went on, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up. Sure, he didn’t think ghosts were dangerous, but all those watching eyes were kind of creepy. A few times, he heard something snicker in the shadows.

“Hah! Found it!” At the end of the hallway, there’s a little brass figure of a stretching lady. It’s just the kind of proof he needs—it’s weird, spooky, and obviously old. As he steps onto what looks like a brand-new Persian rug, Scotti doesn’t even think about how out of place it seems.

As he steps onto it he finds his foot poised over empty air. “!?” His eyes widen as he stumbles forward. CRASH! Old rotten wood breaks as Biscotti tumbles into the remnants of a cellar. This same material leaves him covered in scratches. Unbeknownst to him, a shard of one board goes straight through his left leg—the downside of not having working pain signals.

With a grumble, the brunette tries to clear his head. He stares around the space he’s found himself in, fingers crossed for a way out. But the place is basically a cell. If there was a door, it’s been covered by another collapse.

After a few attempts at jumping for the hole, he curses his diminutive stature. “At least you’re all right.” He murmurs to the puppy pacing anxiously around the hole. “Can you find a rope or something?” Maybe he could lasso a pillar or something? In his panic, he’s completely forgotten the cell phone in his pocket.

The puppy vanishes. A few ghosts begin teasing it and, just like that, any thoughts of its trainer vanish. Sometime later, Biscotti’s new world is interrupted by a large crash nearby. He screams. “Holy cupcakes!” Shoving his way past the debris, he stumbles toward the strange girl. “!?” The gasp of pain draws him near. His dimming flashlight sweeps over her face. “You all right?” His leg glistens with fresh blood.

Isabella Lavigne

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The sight before him strikes fear into his heart. Not that it was anything to be proud of. A fierce Ducklett could do it.

His flashlight splashes across the girl’s face. It highlights the dust and spiderwebs that cover her like a shroud. Holy Camerupt! Biscotti stumbles away as Bella’s haunting laughter filled the space. A noise of alarm squeaks out. For a second, his voice cracks with the memory of puberty. “Ah!” His hand jerks up as she covers her face.

It seems his subconscious thought ghosts deserved respect.

The baker’s too busy trying to process Isabella’s words to notice she didn’t answer. Her shout makes him shiver. “What!?” With a gasp, he turns to glance over his shoulders. “Where!?” All he sees is dust swirling around the cobwebs. When he turns back, the strange girl is super close. “Uhhh—-” Her words fade into static as labrador eyes scan her face and her—uh—well, lower.

Then, his mind caught up. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say—it’s not like—I'm not” A hand lifted to scratch at his cheek. It came back with a few splinters and a bit of webbing. “—I fell through the floor.” Something in the shadows laughed.

Isabella Lavigne

☉