The Tidings - [Ghost Huntress 0.5 - A Christmas Novella] by Marley Gibson

shrimp, and broiled Maine lobster tails. A fountain of melted butter flows constantly in the middle of the table, surrounded by hundreds of white candles flickering amongst the decorations of pine cones, greenery, and fresh cranberries.
    I had no idea my closet was a veritable cornucopia of gourmet foods. My mouth drools involuntarily and I press forward to grasp one of the fine china plates at the edge of the table so I can help myself to the bounty.
    What? I’m hungry.
    “I didn’t say you could start eating yet,” I hear from behind me.
    I jump a bit, glad that I’m not actually holding a dish because I would have totally dropped it. When I turn, I can’t help but laugh like a crazy person.
    “What?” the ghost asks.
    “You!” I point at the apparition before me.
    “ You need to take me seriously. I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present,” it says.
    “Then you ,” I start, “need a better outfit.”
    The spirit is literally cloaked in an old, white bed sheet with arms spread wide. Thick silver chains crisscross over its chest, clanging and banging together in a ghostly stereotype gone bad.
    “Look, Kendall,” exclaims the ghost. “This is your dream, not mine. You’re the one choosing the costumers here.”
    Taken aback, I snort. “Umm, okay. Didn’t know that. I, err, give you permission to change into something more… appropriate.
    “Thank heavens.”
    The chains fall to the ground and the ghost chucks off the white sheet, tossing it aside. When the spirit flips their head back, I gasp at who I see before me. Dark hair, clear eyes, and that perfect-straight smile that came from expensive dental work a few years back.
    “Celia!”
    “No,” she says. “I’m not Celia. I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. I already told you that.”
    She’s now wearing an emerald green robe trimmed in white fur around the neck, wrists, and hemline. A wreath of holly sits in her dark tresses with sparkles of icy diamond-like crystals spread about. She has a long, silver sword around her waist, as though she’s a knight of old.
    I scrunch up my face. “Is that real fur? You know how cruel that is?”
    Celia shakes her head. “Again… your fantasy, K. We’ll call it faux and be done with it, okay?”
    Too stunned at the sight before me, I nod. “Sure.” I clear my throat. “So what are you here to teach me?”
    “Not sure yet, but I have this.” From behind her, she pulls out a large golden torch, much like the one that’s used in the Olympics, and it immediately ignites itself.
    “You’ve never seen anything like this before, have you?” she asks.
    “Not in person.”
    Celia smiles. “I think it’s, like, my magical Ghost of Christmas Present thing.”
    “Whatever works,” I say with a snicker. “Where are we off to?”
    “I thought I’d show you what’s in store tomorrow at the church and all around town. There’s so much more than what you see on the surface.”
    “I’m ready when you are.” The meal beside me forgotten, I cross my arms over my chest and heave an intake of air. “Taylor schooled me on my Christmas past a little while ago. Really got me thinking about a lot of things. I suppose you’re here to do the same?”
    “And how,” Celia says.
    I stand tall, prepared for the next lesson. “Okay, tell me what to do.”
    Celia walks toward me and brushes off the flowing sleeves of her velvety robe. “Touch it.”
    My brow lifts. “I beg your pardon?”
    Celia smirks at me. “My robe, dork. Touch my robe.”
    I slide my hand up her forearm, clutching at her elbow.
    And we’re off!
    The banquet feast, all of the fowl, pork, veg, fruits, and decorations… poof …as if they were never there. The Christmas trees lift into the air and disappear, one by one, in a bubble-popping sound.
    We fly high over Radisson, looking down at the city as it awakens on Christmas Eve morning. The traffic lights flash yellow in the early morning hour. The pace is slow and appreciative; no one