Writetober 2025, Coven of the Quill, Day 2: Dearly Departed

On one unassuming Friday morning, Gary was finishing his third bowl of Count Chocula when a chill raced through his kitchen.

"You're eating that cereal again?" A dry, familiar voice droned from the doorway.

Gary lowered his spoon. He didn't even need to turn around. The aroma of cheap cigars and the hum of pure disappointment told him all he needed to know about what, or who, was there.

"Hello, Aunt Mildred," Gary sighed, turning to face the translucent form of his late aunt.

Mildred, in her favorite floral housecoat and a pair of fuzzy, pink slippers, floated three inches above the linoleum. She crossed her see-through arms. "Your kitchen looks like a Jackson Pollock painting dedicated to grease stains. When's the last time you cleaned? And you call that sad sack bowl of cereal breakfast?"

"It's a classic, Aunt M. And it's Halloween, so I'm embracing the.. messy spirit." Gary gestured vaguely at the calendar.

"The only spirit you're embracing on my watch is the one trying to get you to get you a real job, me." Mildred scoffed. "I'm your Guardian Ghost, Gary. And I have approximately twenty-four hours to 'guide' you, per the Haunting Registry. And since you're the only living relative I actually have clearance to see—I swear, the paperwork for this is worse than filing your taxes—we're going to use this time productively."

Gary pushed the cereal bowl away. "Productive how? Last year, your guidance was mostly just yelling at me for not dusting the baseboards."

"Which still needs dusting, by the way," she interjected. "But this year, it's about your career, sweetie. You’re a grown man, a 'freelance video editor,' and frankly, an embarrassment in the afterlife. Your cousin Bethany's ghost is with with a CEO who's actually making money. All the other ghosts talk about it in the breakroom."

"It's a.. growing market, Aunt Mildred!" Gary protested, pushing to his feet.

"It’s an insult to the memory of your grandfather, a plumber with a real job!" Mildred glided past him. "Now, where's that resume I made you write?"

She stopped abruptly by a stack of mail that was leaning precariously. A sudden, cold gust of wind—her signature 'power move'—blew the top envelope onto the floor. It was a brightly colored brochure.

"Oh, Gary," Mildred murmured. "What is this?"

Gary swallowed. "It's... a pamphlet for the annual 'Creepy Clown Convention' happening downtown tonight. It's really hard to get tickets, actually."

Aunt Mildred’s glow intensified until she looked like a supernova in a floral print. "You're not going. You're staying in and filling out that application for an actual job, honey. Maybe the library? They have benefits, Gary! Benefits!"

"But I already have my costume ready!"

"The only costume you need to worry about are clothes better than your old pajamas!" Mildred floated toward him, her voice rising to an indignant wail. "Now, sit down! We're reviewing cover letter etiquette. And for goodness' sake, put that cereal in the cupboard! It's attracting dust!"

Gary knew there was no fighting the dearly departed, especially when she was right there in the room, capable of lowering the temperature until his teeth chattered. He sat down, staring out the window at the sunny October day, realizing that his personal Guardian Ghost was less of a protector and more of a nagging life-coach.

It was going to be a very long Halloween. 

written by Zoe