𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐘 || A Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge (Oneshot Book)

6. A Game of Ghouls

england // october 29, 1943
prompt: "rainy days"
word count: 2,864

for those who wanted "the freckled, spectacled boy" to return from last year's winter oneshot "the ice cracks"

xXx

Edmund rolled over on his bunk, reaching down to move a red piece across the checkerboard in the middle of the cramped dormitory floor.

His wiry, redheaded opponent sat cross-legged with his back against the opposite bunk, watching keenly through round spectacles as rain pattered against the tall, heavy-curtained window, dull lamplight flickering on the walls despite the clock reading only 5:30—a time when they should have been outdoors playing soldiers along the boundary wall, or raking up heaps of leaves as high as their heads.

Instead, Edmund tucked an arm behind his head again and propped the book of Grimm's Fairytales open on his chest, searching for the spot where he'd left off.

"They laid the coffin on the ground and took the lid off," he read. "A dead man lay inside. The boy felt his face, and it was cold as ice."

"Eugh," shuddered Pryer, tucking his toes properly under his legs as he studied the checkerboard, "imagine that. Touching a corpse—no thank you."

Edmund breathed a short grunt of a laugh.

To hear him talk, one would never have suspected it had been Arthur Pryer who'd asked for a scary story in the first place.

In fact, no one last year had expected the quiet, studious creature to associate with "that Pevensie kid" at all, having once been one of the smaller boys Edmund had taken such cruel pleasure in tormenting before the bombing raids shut down the school. But it seemed the incident with the frozen creek last winter had proven a bit of the change in him, and Pryer had quickly become one of his favorite classmates, not least of all for his willingness to stray into all manner of strange subjects which the others tended to avoid.

Edmund read on. "The boy without fear carried the dead man to the bed, put him under the covers, and lay down next to him."

"Oh, why."

A creak in the top bunk behind Pryer indicated that Roger Morton had rolled over, and a moment later the round-faced boy poked his head out over the rail. "Really, Pryer? This stupid stuff scares you?"

"It's not stupid," muttered Pryer, but the defeat had crept into his tone even before he spoke.

Unfortunately, Morton's bullying days were not quite so far behind him as Edmund would have liked to hope.

He scoffed. "Ghouls and goblins and corpses that come to life are all just silly, if you ask me. It's never really going to happen, so why bother yourself about it?"

"How do you know?" asked Edmund.

The bunk above his head shifted as Lawrence Wood leaned out, too, all four occupants of the room now roused by the conversation. "What's that, Pevensie?"

Edmund shrugged, though from his position only two of his roommates could actually see the gesture. "What if it did happen? I bet you'd feel differently if you had a corpse in your bed, Morton. Or if you really met a ghoul."

Morton barked a derisive laugh. "If you really met a ghoul. Do you think we're babies or something? I don't believe in ghosts."

"Then I'm very sorry if you ever do meet one."

"What are you going on about?"

"Oh, you know." Edmund waved a hand in vague dismissal.

"Well, I don't," said Wood, shifting with a loud creak overhead and throwing his legs over the side of the upper bunk, hooking one foot into the ladder and swinging down to plop himself at the foot of Edmund's mattress. "If you know so much about ghosts and ghouls, what would you do if you met one?"