Ghosts in the Attic Read Free

the kitchen. It gleams in the light from my bedside lamp, its blade sharp and wicked.
    Father Hannigan has a watermelon patch out behind the rectory. Would he notice if he got up tomorrow morning to find one more melon in his patch, one that had not grown from the fertile soil there?
     

A HELL OF A DEAL
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    The Devil looked a lot like David Letterman.
    Lisa wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—a red-skinned beast with horns and cloven hooves, a debonair gentleman with charming eyes and a black mustache—but this tall gangly man with his gap-toothed smile and mop of light curly hair seemed an unlikely Satan. Then again, when one was the Prince of Darkness, perhaps it was best not to advertise.
    “Thank you for coming,” Lisa said dumbly, as if the Devil were a coworker who had accepted a dinner invitation. As it was, the Devil had been summoned by a spell Lisa had found in a dusty old tome procured from a small, musty occult shop in the city. The candles and incense burned in the darkness, the last words of the incantation still hanging in the air, and the Devil had materialized in front of her without the fanfare of smoke or flame. Just one moment empty space, the next the Devil kneeling on the carpet before her.
    The Devil looked nervous, fidgety, and his eyes darted around the room as if afraid something was going to leap out at him from the shadows. “Why have you brought me here?” he asked, smiling uncertainly. “What is it you want from me?”
    Lisa frowned, wondering if perhaps she had gotten the words of the incantation wrong. Maybe she’d summoned the wrong creature. “Are you … the Devil?”
    “The very one,” he said, and Lisa thought she detected a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Not what you imagined, huh?”
    “Well, not exactly.”
    “I may not be much to look at, but I assure you that I have power to spare.”
    “Good to know, because that is why I have summoned you here. I wish to propose a trade of sorts.”
    “Intriguing. What sort of trade?”
    “My soul in exchange for my heart’s desire.”
    “Ah,” the Devil said with a quick nod of his head. “The standard contract.”
    “I suppose you must get summoned for this sort of thing a lot.”
    “Not as often as one might expect. So tell me, what is it you desire?”
    Lisa took a deep breath and said, “I want to be the best singer in the world.”
    “Really? That’s it?”
    “Yes, music is my passion. I have been struggling to make it in the business for fifteen years and have gotten nowhere. I’m thirty-four years old, not a kid anymore, and I am tired of the struggle.”
    “And you’re sure that is what you want?” the Devil said, his expression turning serious. “Think carefully before we make our deal; there will be no turning back once the pact is made. Choose your request wisely.”
    “I know what I’m doing. I have given this much thought, and I know exactly what I want. I want to be the best singer in the world, that is my desire."
    “Very well then. Once I leave this place, you will be the best singer in all the world. I will grant you exactly forty years, after which I will return to claim your soul for my own. Are those terms acceptable?”
    “Yes. Do I have to sign something in my own blood?”
    The Devil chuckled, completely relaxed and comfortable now. “I’m afraid you’ve seen one too many movies, my dear. Nothing as dramatic or ghoulish as that. A simple handshake will seal the deal.”
    Lisa reached out and felt her hand engulfed in his. The Devil’s hand was slightly clammy but otherwise felt like any other hand.
    “It is done,” the Devil said with a smile. “See you in forty years.”
    Lisa opened her mouth to speak but then the Devil disappeared just as quickly and completely as he’d appeared.
    Lisa sat for a moment then began to sing quietly to herself. Her voice was rich, deep, and emotive, and by the end of the song, she had brought herself to