Desirable Haunts Wanted - a short flash fiction serialized ghost story by Rob Hopcott

Harry blinked myopically at the large London policeman as he floated up from underneath the evil smelling pile of restaurant bins that had just fallen on top of him.

"Oi, Oi what have we 'ere," complained the policeman, as he adjusted his tall blue helmet to a more rakish angle.

"What exactly do you think you are up to, sir?"

Harry, who had already risen to over two metres above the dusty pavement, flapped his legs and arms and collapsed in front of the policeman, looking flustered and apologetic.

"I don't know officer," he panted. "The last thing I remember was walking home down this alley and those stacked dustbins falling on me. Otherwise, I haven't the faintest idea what's going on."

PC six nine and a half had always been known for his subtlety back at HQ.

"You're dead," he said.

"What?"

"You're dead, deceased, no longer living, stiffed, stuffed, kaput! You are no longer alive. Got it? Those 'orribly smelly dustbins fell on you and terminated your existence as a human being."

"Oh!"

"Now move along! You can't stay here in this alley. This alley is already occupied!"

But, if I'm dead, where do I go, what do I do? I'm a qualified tax inspector and I'm used to procedures."

"I don't care about your procedures. What you do is move along, sir. You move along and away from this private property!"

"But I thought this alley was public property and a public right of way."

"No sir, that is where you are 'orribly wrong. Not in the ghost world. No, no! In the ghost world, this alley is very private property and you are trespassing. You are committing an offence."

"What offence is that?"

"The offence of offending me. I have been happy in this alley for many years, sir, without being offended on. (Well, if you exclude the night I was stabbed in my particulars by that drug addict. Nasty piece of work. I put in a recommendation with the 'Top Brass' that he be dealt with severely when he arrived in this place.")

PC six nine and a half leaned forward, conspiratorially. Harry thought he smelled a whiff of spirits on his breath.

"They all come 'ere in the end - their end. And when they do, I'm waiting for 'em!"

"Well, that's all very interesting," said Harry, but I still don't know where to go. Is there a reception area or a place I can go to get some help."

"Ah, sir, now you are talking my language. We London policemen are trained to be helpful these days. We don't just catch robbers and thieves you know. We are an important part of the London tourism services. We even help annoying people who are getting in the way of our peaceful surveillance of private alleys, like you sir!"

PC six nine and a half beamed down at Harry.

Harry began to feel uncomfortable.

"Well, where do I go?"

"Around the corner, sir! There is a place around the corner where you can get a haunt of your own, so you don't have to bother me any more. Now move along, sir, at once!"

Harry, felt he'd been dismissed before he'd the opportunity to achieve at least some rapport with this large PC, in accordance with the Tax Inspectors Customer Manual section 33. However, feeling sad, but doing as he was instructed, he floated down the alley past the arriving paramedics and ambulance.

Looking back, he saw the paramedics were trying to give him heart massage but it didn't seem to be doing any good.

PC six nine and a half was officiously hovering over them making notes in his book. Harry wondered if he might get some sort of fine pushed through his letterbox, if ever he owned a door again.

The High Street suddenly arrived as places do when you are floating a couple of metres off the ground. It was rather busy but nobody seemed to pay Harry much attention.

A flashing light and neon sign caught his attention.

"G. Host Residential and Commercial Real Estate Agency," was written in large letters above the door of a rather dark and dingy shop.

Then in smaller letters:

"3,647 years of successfully helping first time ghost owners and all other ghosts and apparitions to find attractive haunts and climb the haunting ladder ."

"Well," thought Harry, as he floated through the solid door.

"This looks like just the place!"


The End

(is nigh, for now ... Ooooh! Oooooh!)

Read the second episode on my paranormal stories site

(Rob Hopcott - online author - fiction - news)

Note from the author. This is the first episode of a series of free serialized ghost stories by Rob Hopcott. I hope you will enjoy the ongoing ghostly story as it unfolds in regular free ghostly episodes.

Copyright Rob Hopcott 2007. All characters in this humorous serialized ghost short story flash fiction and other free on-line humor, short stories, flash fictions, micro-fictions, sudden fictions, post card fictions or very short stories on this site are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person living or otherwise.