[[Set: When Randall, Henry, Angela and Alphonse Dalston were kids living in Stansbury. Let's say they're about ten here.
Spoilers: Very mild spoilers for Miracle Mask.]]
Ghost Stories
"...After that night, the kid was never seen again. They say you can still hear Johnny Saltzman's spirit haunting Stansbury Woods...WOOOOOOOO!"
Angela screamed. Henry screamed louder. Randall laughed, "Is that the best you can come up with, Dalston?"
Dalston stopped wailing like a banshee and crossed his burly arms. "I'd like to see you tell a better ghost story, Bratscot."
"Fine, I will. It'll be ten times more exciting and scarier than yours."
"Please, Master Randall, no more ghost stories!" Henry begged, hugging his treasured robot toy to his chest.
At first, Henry had been thrilled when Randall announced the four of them would be camping in the Ascots' back garden that evening. Mrs Ascot had bought Randall a brand new green tent (much to Mr Ascot's distaste). Randall's original plan was to camp in the wilderness like a proper adventurer. Well, camping beyond the garden had definitely been a no-go with both of his parents. This hadn't disappointed Randall too much; after all, he still got to camp out with his best friends. And if Master Randall was happy, then Henry was happy... Or he had been until Randall and Dalston started exchanging ghost stories.
Snuggling into her pink sleeping bag, Angela said, "Henry's right. Can't we do something else?"
"Don't worry, this will be the last one," Randall promised. "Pass me the torch." Dalston aimed for Randall's head, but Randall caught the torch in mid-air. He held the light under his chin, giving his grinning face an eerie, demonic glow. Henry covered his ears as Randall recited, "Once upon a time, there lived an evil troll called Dalphonse Alston. He was extremely jealous of the daring, handsome, wonderful Prince Randall. The end."
Angela and Randall dissolved into fits of laughter. Even Henry couldn't help chortling. Dalston went beet red. "Shut up!" He glared at them all, but narrowed his eyes at Henry the most, who continued chuckling quietly. He growled, "You think that's funny, Ledore? At least I'm not a big cry baby."
Henry went silent. Randall immediately came to his defence. "Hey, leave Henry alone! I was the one making fun of you— not him!"
"He should've shut up when I said so!"
Angela warned, "Stop it, both of you...!"
"Henry doesn't have to listen to you—"
"Yeah, he does! He's just a servant—"
Suddenly, Angela surged to her feet. "That's it! I'm getting Margot!" She stomped out of the tent to alert the Ascots' maid. The boys ceased their bickering for a moment. Margot would not be pleased if she was disturbed at this time.
Randall heaved out a sigh. "Great. Now we're in trouble. I'll never be allowed to go camping ever again."
"Sorry, Master Randall," Henry whispered, eyes downcast. He hated to see his friend disappointed.
"What do you mean, Henry?" Randall studied him in shock. "This isn't your fault at all."
"It kind of is," Dalston muttered unhelpfully.
Randall shot him an aggravated glance. Then he returned his attention to Henry, offering him a cheery smile. "Don't worry. If my father won't let us camp outside, we'll just put the tent in my bedroom. There'll be plenty of space as long as Dalston doesn't join us—"
"AIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!"
The three of them jumped out of their sleeping bags at the high pitched scream. Dalston leapt so far his head hit the tent's ceiling. He demanded, "What the heck was that?"
"That sounded like Angela," Randall gasped, ripping the tent flap open and racing outside. "Angie, I'm coming!"
"Master Randall, wait!" Henry called. He looked warily from the billowing tent flap to Dalston, wondering if the tougher boy would also rush to Angela's rescue.
However, Dalston was huddled in the corner, whimpering. "D-do you think Angela's okay? What if something attacked her? W-what if it comes after us next?"
"I… I don't know…" Henry gulped. He wasn't strong enough to fend off an evil spirit or a monster like the one in Dalston's story. But Master Randall had gone out there. Henry knew he had to follow. Taking a deep breath, Henry grabbed the torch and stepped out the tent. He waved the torch around, praying that he wasn't too late…
"M-master Randall? Miss Angela?"
"Henry? We're right here."
Henry exhaled with relief when the light shone on his friends, safe and sound. Randall was trying to comfort Angela as she hopped around on the grass.
"Ew, ew, I stepped on something slimy! I think it was a slug!"
"Calm down, it's just a creepy crawly…" Randall soothed her, sending Henry an amused smile. "We thought something had happened to you—"
"ARRRRGGGGH!"
The trio froze. This time the frightened yell had come from the direction of the tent.
"Dalston," Randall murmured, gesturing for the other two to get behind him. They crept back to the tent to discover a horrified Dalston outside. Margot the maid was stood beside him, wearing her purple night gown and a very ugly green face mask.
"What is all this racket about?" Margot demanded. "You four have woken up the entire household!"
"I'm sorry," Angela said. "I stepped on a slug and I screamed…."
"Why was Dalston screaming, then?" Randall wondered. Henry glanced at Dalston as he scuffed his shoe across the grass.
When Dalston didn't reply, Margot huffed, "When I came out to check on you, I simply poked my head into the tent and gave Alphonse a bit of a fright. You obviously can't be trusted alone out here. Now, all of you inside the house and straight to bed."
"Ah, but what about my tent?" Randall whined.
"In. This instant, Master Randall."
As the children trooped back to Ascot Manner, Randall found some enjoyment in irritating Dalston. "Who's the big baby now?"
Blushing, Dalston stammered, "Shut it!"
