~History Repeats Itself~

Chapter 1

The air was cool and crisp while the Ghostly Trio proudly flew above the eventful Friendship Maine throughout the night sky. Their lanky leader had grown ever more satisfied of the results from their nightly raid on the town. The chaotic environment could easily be spotted despite them being closer to the clouds. For a few moments the three sat and enjoyed the sight of people remaining paranoid of their surroundings or those in their instinctive flight mode after recently having their pants scared off, before they proceeded to return home to Whipstaff Manor. Although haunting the town had been successful, Stretch had felt overridden by agitation for valid reasons. His appetite had skyrocketed due to the hard work of scaring, and he was getting sick of hearing his brothers whine too. His patience was quickly wearing thin while him and the two other ghosts awaited their dinner to be served. "Hey, where the heck is bulbhead?" Stretch questioned.
"Maybe he's getting take-out for us?" Fatso glanced at him and shrugged.
"Well we didn't tell him to get take-out...we told him to cook tonight!" Stretch argued.
"I know how to get him to move faster.." Stinkie announced proudly, much to his oldest brother's dismay. "IF CASPER DON'T COME QUICK I'LL STINK HIM TO THE MOON!" His voice echoed across the Manor and back, and yet Casper was still nowhere to be seen. "WE'RE WASTING AWAY OVER HERE! I THINK BULBHEAD WANTS TO WASTE AWAY TOO!" Fatso threatened, as his voice rang throughout the halls just after Stinkie's. However while the two brothers continued to come up with more threats, Stretch's concerns began to grow as much as the tension that the truly unusual situation had brought. "C'mon this is serious guys, shortsheet shoulda been here by now!"
"Since when do ya worry 'bout doughboy?"
"Shut up, Stink..."
"What? I think Stretch has got a point.." Fatso added.
"There's a foist.." Stinkie replied with a sneer. But something was definitely wrong, and their leader feared it had to do with their nephew. Despite refusing to admit any worry behind it, the argument between the two ghosts only converted his agitation in anger. To his own shock he'd come to realize of how careless they actually were regarding Casper. "Don't you two start!" He flew in between his brothers in order to silence them. "Something's up... and I wanna go look for him..."
"Suit yerself, Stretch, but we're gonna wait for him to come to us!" Stinkie crossed his arms coldly, while Fatso mimicked his action. After flying through the ceiling to the second floor, he called him through the big hall, wondering whether Casper would be in his room or not. Surprisingly in just a few moments, the oldest ghost noticed him next to the door of the Ghostly Trio's room. He was sprawled out on the floor, lying on his stomach. "Shortsheet?" Upon approaching him did he notice the boy's eyes squeezed tightly shut. He knelt down, carefully taking his nephew in his arms. His ghost body laid limp while his uncle helplessly stroked his soft, round head. "Casper?" Stretch struggled to fight back bitter tears, none of which he wished anyone to see. The young boy slowly opened his eyes and despite being weary, they instantly became overridden with fear upon seeing his usually most hostile uncle. He looked up at him with wide and terrified deep blue eyes, attempting to get back up but seemed much too exhausted to do so. "Uh..Uncle Stretch?" He stammered, just before a larger hand covered his mouth. "Shh, it's okay shortsheet.." His uncle assured, carefully lying the younger ghost's head back on the crook of his elbow. However while Stretch looked closely into the pair of bright blue eyes, the realization of how familiar they actually were finally struck him, as fast as a lightening bolt during a typical stormy night at Whipstaff. That was when something strange had occurred that had never happened before. He'd recalled a memory from the time of when he was alive. He also felt truly heartbroken while facing facts of how afraid of him that his nephew had become.