In a crooked, cobweb-draped old house at the very end of Maple Street lived a tiny, trembly ghost named Gus.
Gus could float through dusty walls.
He could send curtains flapping like startled bats.
He could make doors groan.
And when he concentrated extra hard, he could even shimmy a teacup across the table.
Gus was very proud of that one.
Every ghost in the house had a special spooky talent.
Great-Aunt Gertie could howl down chimneys.
Uncle Boo could make every clock strike thirteen.
Cousin Wisp could float upside down for hours.
And Gus?
Gus could give a pretty good—
"WooooOOOOoooo!"
At least during the daytime.
Because Gus had one teeny-tiny, very embarrassing secret.
He was afraid of the dark.
Very afraid.
The moment the sun went down, Gus started turning on lights.
Hallway light.
Kitchen light.
Bathroom light.
Closet light.
Once, he even left the refrigerator door open.
Great-Aunt Gertie shrieked,
"GUS! You're letting all the cold out!"
Meanwhile, the other ghosts floated through the shadowy rooms practicing their scares.
"BOOOOO!"
"WOOOOOO!"
"GET OUT!"
Gus stayed close to the lamps.
"What if something is hiding in the dark?"
he whispered.
Uncle Boo blinked. "You're a ghost."
"I know."
"You're supposed to BE the thing hiding in the dark."
Gus gulped.
"That does not help."
Then came the announcement Gus had been dreading.
The Annual Midnight Haunt.
Every young ghost had to spend one whole night haunting a room—
with the lights OFF.
Gus drew a card.
"The attic."
Every ghost gasped.
The attic was the darkest room in the whole house.
It had cobwebs.
Old trunks.
Dusty furniture.
And one rocking chair that moved even when nobody was sitting in it.
Gus fainted.
Straight through the floor.
At midnight, Great-Aunt Gertie floated Gus to the attic door.
"Remember," she said, "your job is to scare anyone who comes inside."
"But what if they scare ME?"
"You're a ghost, dear."
"You keep saying that like it helps."
The attic door creaked open.
Gus floated inside.
The door clicked shut.
Darkness.
Total darkness.
Gus froze.
Something scratched along the wall.
Scritch.
Something bumped behind an old trunk.
BUMP.
Gus squeezed his eyes shut.
Then came a tiny sound.
"Eep."
Gus opened one eye.
"Who said that?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
A tiny voice whispered,
"Please... don't eat me."
Gus blinked.
"Eat you?"
A fuzzy little head popped out from behind a box.
It was a mouse.
The mouse stared at Gus.
Gus stared at the mouse.
"AAAAAH!" screamed Gus.
"AAAAAH!" screamed the mouse.
They both dove behind different boxes.
After a minute, Gus peeked out.
The mouse peeked out too.
"You're a ghost," said the mouse.
"You're a mouse," said Gus.
"Yes."
"You scared me."
"You scared ME."
The mouse's whiskers twitched.
"I'm Pipkin."
"I'm Gus."
They sat quietly.
Well...
Pipkin sat quietly.
Gus floated quietly.
Then the rocking chair creaked.
Creeeeak.
Pipkin jumped.
Gus shot upward.
They stared at each other.
Then both burst out laughing.
"You're really bad at being a ghost," Pipkin said.
"You're really bad at being a mouse."
"What are mice supposed to do?"
Gus shrugged.
"Mouse things."
"Very helpful."
Somehow, the attic didn't seem quite so scary anymore.
"Want to explore?" Gus asked.
Pipkin's whiskers quivered.
"In the DARK?"
"We can be scared together."
Pipkin thought about it.
"Okay."
They crept past the old trunks.
Peeked behind the curtains.
Checked inside a dusty dollhouse.
They even looked underneath the rocking chair.
Nothing scary.
Just dust.
Lots and lots of dust.
Then Gus noticed something glowing near the window.
Tiny golden lights blinked outside.
"What are those?" he whispered.
"Fireflies," said Pipkin.
Gus floated closer.
Beyond the window, stars sparkled across the sky.
The moon hung over Maple Street.
Owls called from the trees.
Porch lights twinkled below.
Gus stared.
"The dark is... kind of pretty."
Pipkin nodded.
"It is when you can see what's in it."
Suddenly—
BANG!
The attic door flew open.
A tall shadow filled the doorway.
Gus screamed.
Pipkin screamed.
The shadow screamed.
Then Great-Aunt Gertie switched on a lantern.
"Gus!"
She blinked.
"Did you just scare ME?"
Gus blinked too.
"I think I did."
Great-Aunt Gertie grinned.
"You passed your Midnight Haunt."
"I did?"
"You most certainly did."
Pipkin climbed onto Gus's shoulder.
"Technically, I helped."
Gus smiled.
"Yes, you did."
From that night on, Gus still liked having a little light nearby.
He still checked beneath things once in a while.
And he absolutely refused to go into the basement.
But the dark?
It wasn't quite so frightening anymore.
Especially when Pipkin was around.
Later that night, Gus floated into bed.
Pipkin curled up inside an old slipper beside him.
Gus turned off the lamp.
Click.
The room went dark.
Pipkin whispered,
"Gus?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think there are ghosts in here?"
Gus stared at him.
"Pipkin."
"What?"
"I AM a ghost."
"Oh."
There was a long pause.
Then Pipkin whispered,
"That's exactly what a ghost would say."
Gus pulled the blanket over his head.
"Goodnight, Pipkin."
From inside the slipper came a tiny—
"BOO!"
Gus screamed.
Pipkin giggled.
And somewhere downstairs, Uncle Boo shouted,
"THAT'S MY BOY!"