So relieved, Additional smiled; but as he stood up, Conditional float above the ground reaching out her arms and whispering "boo" again. "ARGGGGGGGGG, ghost!" he screamed, running inside and squeezing himself under the tea table.
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So relieved, Additional smiled; but as he stood up, Conditional float above the ground reaching out her arms and whispering "boo" again. "ARGGGGGGGGG, ghost!" he screamed, running inside and squeezing himself under the tea table.
This was how they spent the whole night from one room to another!
Unable to out run Condition's ghost or find a safe hiding place, Additional grabbed the phone book and tried to find the number for Ghost Busters...
"Vanity!", he was ever shouting, thinking it would scare his pursuing bride and put her cowl at bay.
When this did not work, Additional tried to fight Conditional away with the phonebook, which did not have the number for Ghost Busters; but he fought in vain. When he finally gave up to exhaustion, the pale and emotionless ghost ate him.
And to add insult to injury, Conditional, the pale and emotionless ghost picked up the very phonebook he had just been attacked with, and dialed the Real Estate Agent to let her know the property was once more available.
"Xanadu? Really, now," said the realtor, "I'm not the one you need to convince, my dear, leave the exaggeration for the potential buyers of your home. First thing I would suggest, though, if you want to get top dollar, is to clean up all the gore and get rid of the ghosts, then call me back and we'll chat, darling."
"You are very brave my friend, refusing a ghost who just ate someone. And did you say get rid of the ghosts? Are you suggesting that ghosts are bad?" replied Conditional's ghost angrily.
"Zap me back, and hope to live!" she thought aloud!
Amidst the quarrel, when Conditional's ghost was about to eat up the smuck realtor named Barry, in the corner of her eyes, through the kitchen window's opening looking into the backyard, flashed an image that caught her attention; it was of the poppy garden and its familiar hue.
Bent over the body she had left amidst the flowers, was a real, living Additional, trying to rouse her up from sleep, to come and meet a nice real estate agent that needed to look up a number under "X" and use their phone a moment.
Conditional's ghost found herself thinking about how could have happened. While she was seeing Additional making her call.
"Detectives are under 'D'", thought the ghostress. "Hmm......"
"Every body, hands over your heads and kiss the floor, right now!!!" a SWAT team suddenly busted in, led by a feisty captain, "...madame, this is your last warning. Put down the phone book and step away from the ...half-a-body!"
Fear led them out, and the feared pursued them all the way.
Ghostress found the Detective Sherlock Holmes. Ah ha NOW we'll have some fun with that, she ripped out the address and disappeared....
...haunting the night with the same madness as the owl she had once dreamt she was, when she had fallen asleep in the poppy garden.
Incoherent whispering is all that is left of her now, her once ghostly magic has faded with the passing seasons, though on certain moonlit summer nights, when the poppies bloom, one could swear the air is full of warm life, like the breath of the one she once adored.
Just a whisper though remains and then a dark cold wind blows and with it the memories and is replaced by wailing, sorrowful moaning in the tops of the trees that cause the magestic trees to tremble and the earth to sob in grief.
King of birds is he who listens all the night long, and in the morning he is departed with her song.
Liaisons of beauty and rhythm's essence forever ringing in his ears eventually begin to grate as it's 'dum di dum' repeats until he wishes to cast off forever her hobbling tune.
"Make it stop", would say the poppies, and the wind would extend the symphonies to the disappearing North.
"no problems happened today in school" i thought happily
One fine morning, all creatures of the garden woke up to find that the sorrowful weeping had completely disappeared; all that remained in the golden sunshine were the convivial songs of little birds.
Perhaps the trickle of tiny bird lullabies shall move future stone-hearted visitors.
Quitting these parts for a happy ending in the south, all birds will be rid of some ghosts.
Residing in the secluded mountains of the South, the birds brought along their songs to give the ancient residents of these forests a new breath of fresh air.
Sitting, listening just beyond the northern border, were two ghosts, Depictional and Reflectional.
These two happy lovers died from old age in each other's arms, and not horribly like Additional and Conditional; their story was quite a charming one.
Under the stars the birds and the poppies, all eventually have their auditions of life and chores and rest.
Very promptly did the next morning come; all creatures gathered around Depictional as he continued telling his love story where they left of the night before: "...I met her, my beautiful Reflectional, on these same hills; she was picking flowers...red roses."
Whistling poproaches stopped breathing to listen and inscribe their memorial of this pair.
"XII roses she picked," continued Depictional, "and she came to hand them to me; when suddenly a wicked witch came flying on an ugly old broom and stopped right between us..."
"yesiree bob! It be the god's honest truthum, yessum it does." said the witch, as I stared and stared at her green hair..
Zig-zagging across the sky for a moment, the witch snatched my love before I could figure out what she had said and flew away, laughing and shouting: "by noon tomorrow, bring me enough gold to tile the roof of my castle, and this maid of yours may live!"
Absentmindly scratching my head, I stared into the fire for a long time. Where the devil was I going to get that gold, and by noon tomorrow? Just then, from the blackness of the corner a voice said: "You called?" T'was the Devil himself! "Look, you got a problem, I can solve it--usual rates of course."
He buffed his fingernails and....
before he knew it, the shine off of his fingernails was too much light for the devil, and he vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Can I have a minute to discuss this with the other creatures of the forest?" I asked the Devil respectfully, for I did not want to offend him; he was my only hope of saving my love.
Daintily dusting off the dust from his sudden disappearance and reentry, he frowned. "Discuss? What is there to discuss, my little friend? You need gold, lots of it." He held out a manicured hand and an hourglass appeared in it. "And time is your enemy, not your friend. It's a simple enough arrangement, really." He sounded like a bored lawyer as he produced some papers...
Everything he said was true, I did not have a choice. In fact I should be eternally thankful for his help; so I turned to him right then without talking to the others: "So be it! Give me enough gold to tile the roof of the witch's castle, get my Reflectional back here safely, and my soul is yours."