I do not own Casper the Friendly Ghost franchise.

A horrible attempt at Stretch's Brooklyn accent. The bit at the end is kind of my speculation on why Casper sticks around as a ghost rather than moving on.

McFadden Family Photo Album

Casper rarely got a moment to himself. Living with three demanding, obnoxious and wicked uncles meant that there was always food to be cooked, a mansion to make a mess of and chores to do. So on the days where he was the only occupant of the dusty old manor, Casper jumped at the chance for some much-deserved alone time.

The eternally twelve-year-old ghost boy flew through the library, a room that was almost always empty. The chaises were mouldy and ripped and a thick layer of dust covered each and every book that lined the rotted wooden shelves. The red drapes were pushed aside, allowing a soft beam of sunlight to penetrate the darkness.

Casper hummed to himself as he scanned the spines. He knew he didn't have much time before his uncles came back from haunting so it was best to grab any old book. Problem was most of the books on the shelves he had already read-multiple times, in fact.

"It's always hard finding a good book to sink your teeth into," Casper sighed as he floated a few shelves higher. "Especially if you're a ghost who can't use the local library."

His blue eyes scanned the golden titles in search of something that would grab his attention. His interest was soon piqued by a thick album that had no title embossed on the spine. Curious, Casper wiggled the book out, bringing along a thick cloud of dust when it was finally dislodged from its spot.

"Oh, gross." Casper coughed and waved the dust away. "If I had any brains in me I'd be sneezing them out right now."

The ghost boy flipped the book over and was pleasantly surprised and excited to see Photo Album printed on the cover. The words were worn with age and the corners of the pages were yellowed. But the state of the album did not matter to Casper so long as the pictures were intact. He could not recall the last time he had seen any pictures of his family from his days of being alive and any questions he had were grudgingly answered (albeit vaguely) by his uncles.

"Maybe I'll finally remember something," Casper whispered to himself. He floated eagerly to one of the chaises and settled down, resting the album gently against his stomach. He slowly opened the cover and was instantly greeted by familiar handwriting on the first page-a short note that detailed the contents of the album.

A picture is worth a thousand words. A clichéd saying but one that is undeniably true. I am a busy man but I know family takes matter over anything else. The snapshots kept within this album are to remind me of what I have, and what I should always treasure.

Casper could practically hear his father's voice as he read the words. His eyes grew moist, for he knew that his father had lost so much of his family in such a short amount of time-that was something Casper remembered clearly.

He flipped the page and stared intently at the first picture. A wedding photo of his father and his mother. Casper ran his fingers over his parents and heaved a heavy sigh. How he wished his life had turned out differently, how the lives of his father, mother and even uncles hadn't ended in such tragedy.

"No point in wishing for something that will never come true," Casper said bitterly. He continued turning pages, smiling softly over the black and white shots that depicted his parents holding their newborn child. His soft smile turned into a wide grin and a bout of laughter when he got to the next picture-a shot of his three uncles with him as a baby. Stretch was holding baby Casper out as far as he could, his violet eyes wary. Stinkie was holding what appeared to be a dirty diaper, his face actually twisted up in disgust. Fatso was turned slightly away from the camera but Casper could make out baby spit littering his shirt.

"What's goin' on in here, shortsheet?"

Casper's laughter turned into a yelp of surprise. He snapped his head around to see his three uncles peering at him suspiciously from the entryway. "Uh, nothing. I was just..."

He trailed off, his hands tightening around the album protectively. His uncles tended to take joy in destroying most of his possessions. But this was something he would guard with his afterlife.

"Just what?" Stretch persisted, floating into the room and peering at the book clutched in his little hands.

Casper tensed, ready for a fight. But to his surprise his uncle let out a snort of amusement. "Huh, whattaya know? I remember that day."

Fatso and Stinkie came and sat on either side of Casper, eyeing the photo curiously. "I guess I can understand why you boss me around so much. Revenge is a dish best served cold," Casper joked meekly.

"Eh, you're ten times worse now. At least back den you couldn't talk," Stretch sneered.

"I was just as gross and disgusting when I was alive." Stinkie tapped his younger self. "But kid, you really grossed me out with those diapers of yours. Smelled worse than anything I ever concocted."

"And that's saying something," Fatso said.

Casper flipped to another photograph. He stared at his mother, who was beaming proudly with him held in her arms. "I don't remember her much," Casper said softly.

"You wouldn't," Stretch mused. "She passed away when you were a toddler. Two, I t'ink. Maybe three."

"Was she nice?"

"She put up wit' the three of us. What do you t'ink?"

"She must have been the nicest person on the planet," Casper returned, a small smirk crossing his face.

Stretch rapped his knuckles sharply against Casper's head in response. "More of dat outta you and you'll be takin' an unpleasant trip down memory lane."

"Isn't it already unpleasant?" Casper asked. He flipped to the back of the album, which showed a family portrait of his parents, his uncles, himself, and...Spooky.

"Spooky?" Casper asked in bafflement. "He was alive when we were?"

"Yeah. He was as pompous and cocky back then as he is now."

"But I don't remember him at all." Casper rubbed his forehead, trying to urge some sort of memory from the depths of his being.

"Well, he wasn't around much," Fatso remarked. "He only visited on occasion. His parents were never available to accompany him, so that's why it's just Spooky in the photo."

"Did we get along? When we were alive, I mean."

"Considerin' he was the only one in the family who was the closest in age to you, you were pretty friendly wit' each other," Stretch answered. "You were his favourite person to pick on, which is understandable."

Casper stared at the portrait for a moment. "Do you...do you regret not crossing over?"

Stretch, Fatso and Stinkie glanced at each other. "Not at all," Stretch finally answered. "We always enjoyed terrorizin' people-now we can do it to our heart's content for all eternity."

"Even though you got stuck with me?"

The briefest of smiles flickered across Stretch's face before it settled back into an impassive expression. "Eh, something dis good always comes wit' a price."

"And I guess we could have been saddled with something much worse than a snot-nosed nephew who was always too nice for his own good," Stinkie added.

"Yeah, you could have been stuck with someone who doesn't wait on you hand and tail," Casper muttered, idly running his fingers over the family portrait.

"Speaking of which..."Stretch reached down and loped an arm around Casper's waist. He yanked the ghost boy up, causing Casper to yelp in shock. Stretch easily flipped his nephew upside down and held him up by his ghostly tail. "I think it's time you started makin' us some grub."

A pout formed on Casper's lips. "Right now?"

"Yeah, now. Before we starve to death." Stretch reached out and plucked the album from Casper's hands, setting it down on the wooden side table. "You can look at dis thing later-when you're not busy."

"Will...will you look at it with me?"

"If we don't have anythin' better to do," Stretch answered. He gave Casper a boot towards the doorway, one that was gentler than most boots the young ghost normally received. "Get cookin', bulbhead."

Casper obeyed, speeding towards the kitchen. Fatso, Stinkie and Stretch glanced down at the photo album that held so many memories of their past lives. "Do you think Casper will ever cross over?" Fatso finally asked.

"I don't t'ink so," Stretch said, his voice unnaturally soft. He flipped the album open, to a certain photo that rested in the middle. A blonde-haired child with bright blue eyes (although you couldn't tell from the black and white photo-the small details of their nephew were things that the Ghostly Trio just wouldn't forget) grinned happily back.

"Casper was robbed of a family. Eleanor died when he was two, Spooky passed on when he was seven and we kicked the bucket when he was five. J.T was never good at handlin' loss, so he invented like mad, tryin' to deal wit' the pain. Casper stayed behind to keep his father company, not intendin' to drive J.T insane. When he got locked up in the insane asylum, Casper couldn't move on. He's here because we're here, because Spooky's here.

"Casper is unable to move on because he's under the belief that the only family he'll ever have is on Earth. Until he moves past his desire to go back in time, to move past his desire to be alive once more he will be here with us."

"That might be for a long time," Stinkie remarked, although he hardly sounded disappointed about the fact.

Stretch drew his fingers across Casper's once-unruly hair. "You know what? I t'ink I can live wit' that."