An anthology of spooky short stories and creepy poetry for children and young adults. Mr Ghastly explores the unseen worlds of ghosts and monsters; from wicked witches running disciplinary schools for wayward kids, to talking garden ornaments, hungr...
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Not many people knew of the town of Rusty, just like the town of Rusty knew very little about many people. It was a small town placed idly in the middle of a vast grey ocean, hidden within the green sea fog and the murkiness of a near constant night.
Rusty was, indeed, a rather dreary town to live in; the streets were narrow, the roads were paved with stone and wood, the houses were made of stone and wood, and the entire town stood upon a tall stone and wood platform held upon stilts protruding from the ocean like a tall stone and wood spider.
The people of Rusty, the young and the old, maintained a very regimented lifestyle. Everyone awoke at 7AM, directly on the seventh toll of the Rusty town clock tower bell, they dressed in their dark grey uniforms, and they walked to their school, or their office, or their café, or their street corner, where they spent their day, right up until 6PM when they would all return to their home, eat their supper, and go directly to bed. This was Rusty town law.
Nobody could ignore the signs along the streets, no matter how tall or small you are, the signs were clear as day and planted in different shapes and sizes so as to always be seen by the Rusty town residents. Every sign read one clear message, usually in a singular word in block capitals printed in bold black ink reading: BEHAVE, or RESPECT, or REGARD. These words were constant reminders to the Rusty residents, reminders that they must constantly abide by. Because everyone in Rusty, the young and the old, the tall and the small, knew what would happen if they did not abide.
They would receive a phone call from... The Midnight School.
"What's the Midnight School?" Little Garrett Hamley asked one late night, long past bedtime. The children of the Rusty Orphanage sat in their nightgowns, crowded around the lampshade in the vast bedroom, the bulb barely giving off enough light to see past the looming shadows of the night.
"Well..." Millie Pudmore said in a voice no louder than a whisper, "... only the children know it as The Midnight School. They say it looks like a school; a great big stone school with long corridors and ceilings as tall as a cathedral. But in reality, it's a prison. That's why grown-ups call it the Iron Locker. But you hardly hear that name."
"Yes, but what is the Midnight School?" Garrett Hamley pressed on, his eyes wide with anticipation. The other children in the room listened just as carefully as Millie Pudmore sat before them and recounted the terrible tale.
"Well..." Millie pursed her lips, savouring the sweetness of the moment and the undivided attention of her peers as they stared longingly for her words, "The Midnight School is for those who don't abide by the law, the ones who misbehave and break the rules.
"They say that everything we do here in Rusty is monitored, and those that break the law are listed in a large book called the 'Folio Horiblis.' It's from there that the names are taken and the guilty, that's what they call them, the rule breakers; 'the guilty', receive a phone call"
