Duke, The Spook

1. The Gundersons

It was the typical summer afternoon. Puffs of clouds drifted across a blue sky, the neighborhood boys played street hockey in the cul-de-sac, and Duke watched, unseen, from the ten-foot circular attic window.

Duke didn't know any of the boys' actual names, but that was just as well. To him, naming someone at birth was preposterous. How could anyone choose the right name when all there was to base the decision on was a screaming, wriggling blob? It would make much more sense if parents waited a few years before naming their children. That way they would be able to tell a Stephen from an Albert or a Geraldine from a Camilla. But that was not how name-giving worked, and since no one asked Duke his opinion on the matter, he was forced to rename everyone himself.

Down below, the short, thin boy with red hair and freckles and buck teeth playing goalie—Frank, as Duke referred to him—blocked a shot just as two cars turned onto the street and crept their way toward the cul-de-sac.

The boys scrambled out of the way and watched, their eyes growing wide, as both cars pulled into the driveway of 66 Sycamore Circle—Duke's house. Rather than going back to their game once the cars were out of the way, the boys huddled even closer together and whispered amongst themselves in a hushed frenzy as they threw obvious glances at the people getting out of the two cars.

Out of the first car stepped Stacey Winston. She was a tall, thin woman with big blond hair and red lipstick so bright that Duke could see it from the attic window. She took a grim look up at the house and then straightened her black suit jacket and smoothed her white pencil skirt.

Just the sight of Stacey Winston made Duke angry, but he reminded himself that things would be different. Stacey Winston had been trying to get rid of Duke for decades, and she believed she had finally done the trick. All he had to do was stay quiet and out of her way while she was at the house and she would be none the wiser. That would be the easy part. The hard part, Duke knew, would be figuring out what he'd do with himself if someone actually moved in.

Down below, three people got out of the second car. They appeared to be a family—a mother, a father, and a daughter. The mother had a wide smile, wide hips, and a wide mop of thick, untamable curls. The father was a shiny-headed bald man who looked very strong yet had a round belly. Duke only caught a glimpse of the daughter, who appeared to be about twelve years old and wore a plain black dress, before she opened and disappeared underneath a deep-purple umbrella trimmed with black lace. The umbrella took him by surprise. He had never seen someone use one on such a bright and beautiful summer day.

Duke recognized the mother instantly. Stacey Winston had shown her around the house a week prior. He remembered that her name was Sue. He thought Penelope would have been a more appropriate name, but Sue, he figured, was Sue-ficcient. She had been very excited about the house, despite its poor condition.

He watched as Stacey Winston spoke to the family, motioning non-stop around the overgrown and weed-choked lawn. Finally, she motioned to the front door, and she and the family walked towards it.

Duke turned and hurried downstairs to the second floor. He made it to the landing that overlooked the front entryway just as the front door opened.

Stacey Winston entered backwards, the family following. A string of hyena laughs bubbled out of her mouth and she swatted the air as if shooing them away like flies. "Oh, how funny! No, sweetie, the house is as sturdy as a castle." She reached out and twisted a knob on the wall. The enormous chandelier hanging above the large square entryway bloomed with light. "The potential is endless with just a few cosmetic updates."

"Just a few?" The daughter said as she closed her umbrella, leaned it against a wall, and looked around.

Duke felt his mind stall as he looked at her. She had long black hair parted into ponytails on each side of her head, and her lips were colored black. Her face held no expression, but even from where he stood he could see an energy in her eyes that made it very clear she had wits.