This is a one-shot from the POV of Little Leota. She's the doll-like ghost that is at the very end of the ride, urging you to "hurry back" and "don't forget your death certificate." According to ride legend, she's the daughter of Madame Leota (the lady in the crystal ball). She was quite the flirt, and quite the practical joker. Prudence (apparently, the ghost holding the floating chandelier in the Endless Hallway) was her personal maid. Also, according to ride legend, Little Leota had an interesting excursion one night that begged to be written down as this one-shot.

I do not own the Haunted Mansion, or POTC. You'll see by the end of the story.

It's really hard to have any fun at Gracey Manor. Not that I haven't tried, believe me. Everyone else just sits and mopes all day.

The Master locks himself in his study, reading or feeling bad about his dead father; Miss Emily, when not sick or drawing birds that she sees out the parlor window, thinks about her dead parents; and Mother…well, let's just say that death and grief are part of her business. The servants are always busy, invisible as they perform the daily necessaries.

It's fun to have my own servant, I must say, although Prudence isn't much of a sport. She's too quiet and obedient, although very easily scared. The slightest things set her off, which is a lot of fun…especially at night. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when she hears a door slam suddenly, or creaks and squeaks from rickety doors and stairs.

When I was little, I used to spend most of the day with Mother. I assume the Master might have hired a nursemaid to look after me, but telling fortunes was fun. All sorts of people came to see Mother, and they were fun, too. I used to tease them to make them come back; it usually worked. Strange how some people get all nervous over talking about death certificates…

Now, though, fortune-telling is boring. Mother gets all huffy when I try to do it; I think she's jealous that I might be better than her.

Boys are fun, but there aren't any my age at the Mansion. Some of the older men, now… But even having fun with them gets boring after awhile. The air of trying to keep it a secret fades away, you know?

So, I have to resort to other ways to find fun.

Mistress Lillian used to be a lot of fun. She was tragic and melancholy…at least, that's how I remember her. Anything could set her off. Even putting paste on her rocking chair could send her into a gale of tears. Mother and I had fun with her…

Then she died, and she wasn't fun anymore.

Sometimes the other family is fun; once, I locked their doors at night, and then ran down the hallway, knocking. The Master was hopping mad. I bet he knew it was me, but unless he wanted Mother to be really mad at him, he couldn't do anything.

But when I don't feel like having fun at night, I'll just go and walk. I don't care how dark and 'scary' it is (Prudence can be such a coward); I'm much more dangerous than anything in the house. Except for maybe Mother.

The wind from the bayou blowing across your skin is one of the nicest sensations ever. I stand on the porch at night so I can feel it.

But these amusements are so temporary…I'm always searching for something new and exciting…like visiting some of my "friends" tonight. The Master would have a fit of apoplexy if he knew what a member of his household was doing… That makes it even more fun.

It's so easy to climb out of my window and down the side of the house, and just as easy to saddle the swiftest horse and ride to town. Everyone else needs to be asleep for this to work, of course, but sometimes it's the greatest thrill to leave when you know someone's up and about.

There's a tavern in town near the docks called "The Golden Seagull." It's the seediest, ugliest, and most disreputable establishment on the entire state coastline. Loose women, soldiers of fortune, gamblers, and convicts gather there, where the rum is cheap and plenty. It's also my favorite place to go on a Saturday night with nothing else better to do.

I heard a rumor last week that my…special…friends would be in port tonight. Naturally, I have to grace them with my presence.

I'm hailed as a regular when I step in the broken doorway. Already, raucous shouting and singing is drifting from the back room, so I duck under the shabby curtain dividing the two rooms.

Jack, dark-haired and handsome, is lounging in a chair with one of the serving wenches cuddled on his lap. He sloshes his mug of rum in tune with the two dimwits stomping out a "dance" on the floor.

Just as I walk in, Pintel whistles from across the room, ready for more rum. The wench pops up after tickling Jack, grabs the decanter, and scurries over.

How dare she! Honestly! The strumpet!

As I stalk over to Jack, he quickly takes notice of both my arrival and the scowl etched on my forehead. "Ah, Leota," he begins. Unfortunately, he's interrupted by my hand greeting his cheek.

"I'm not sure I deserved that one," he protests.

In response, he is smacked again.

"All right, maybe I deserved that one."

My hand is raised in order to smack him again, but Jack simply yanked it forward, pulling me onto his lap. "Let's have some rum for the lady," he demands the serving wench, now pouting at being deprived of the captain's company.

I tug at one black braid. "You missed me. Admit it."

Jack grins, showing a gold tooth or two. "Maybe."

When the rum is brought, I eagerly grab at a mug, hefting it high. "C'mon then," I order. "Let's have it!"

Jack begins to drunkenly "sing": "We're devilsh and black sheep…really…really…really bad eggsh, drink up me 'earties, yo ho…"

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"

Probably not one of my better attempts, but...

One of the ride legends about Little Leota placed her at a tavern one night when pirates were in town...I couldn't resist!

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