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Fill for kinkmeme's Ghost Story prompt, as well as for much newer Halloween prompt.
Story so far : Professor Calculus was invited to England by his old colleague, younger brother of Lord of Moonshire, and he took Captain, Tintin and Snowy along. The Manor feels slightly strange (especially to Snowy and Captain), but nothing unusual happened at first. Yet, the second night of their visit is full of unpleasant hair-rising surprises.
Warnings : Tintin/Haddock established relationship. Mild fluff. Spooky stuffs.
part one part two this part part four part five part six [next parts pending]
“Captain?” Tintin stands in doorframe, dressed in pajamas, lamp in hand and Snowy at his side.
Archibald breathes out gratefully. “T-ti-ttt-tin…”
“Goodness gracious, what’s wrong?” The ginger hastens to him, leaving the door wide open. He lays the lamp at night table. “Archie?” Tintin takes Captain’s face to his arms. “Archie, what’s wrong? You are pale as ghost.”
Captain laughs faintly, nervously. His still shaking hands grab Tintin’s and the ginger is surprised by how cold they are.
“C-can I stay in yer room, please?”
“Surely.” Tintin presses their foreheads together, the ever calming intimate gesture. “Come.” He hoists Captain up by pulling at his hands, all possible jokes and witty remarks bitten back. Because his brave sailor is truly frightened.
Snowy whines under his feet and Tintin quickly looks down, assuring himself that he didn’t stamp at his dog. But no, that’s not the problem. Archibald squats and takes Snowy in his arms. Tintin grabs the lamp in one hand and Captain’s arm in other and tugs them towards door. They are closed securely and he had to give the lamp to Archibald, since he needs both hands to open them. When the hinges screech rustily, it hits him. As unconsciousness-bringing slap across face. He did not close the door. And they are too heavy to close spontaneously. Plus, he would have heard it.
Tintin can feel the ice-cold fear clutching him, his breath hitches.
What … How …?
“Tini?” Archibald asks, already in hallway, clutching Snowy like shock-blanket.
Tintin forces smile at his face. Leaving the door open he lays his hand on Archibald’s back and prompts them to movement. “Your room is terribly cold. You need to warm up.”
He will not let Captain enter that room ever again.
Tintin observed Archibald’s peaceful sleeping face in the faint light of oil reading lamp, one hand folded under own head, the other laid on Captain’s side, Snowy snuggled between them. They rarely share bed when staying over in somebody’s house and even rarer sleep with light switched on. But in the safeness of Moulinsart, where they didn’t need to hold back, they often drift off tangled in embrace, enjoyably spent after lovemaking, with Snowy curled up in the foot of the bed.
Tintin smiled affectionately and delivered tender kiss on the top of Archibald’s nose.
No one would threaten his Captain.
Nothing would threaten his Captain.
Snowy wagged his tail fiercely because Tintin shifted closer to Captain, which enclosed the white dog more securely between those two males.
Snowy was contented.
Both his humans were there with him.
He can protect them.
He will protect them.
Because they are his humans. His pack.
And nothing on the whole world would endanger them unless facing him first.
Nothing.
There was nothing which could have made those sounds on the hallway.
Tintin pouted.
But it must be logically explainable.
For the simple reason that such things as ghosts, monsters, zombies and extraterrestrials simply do not exist. So there must be some sort of gadget or secret passage or quick butler with fondness for practical jokes or something which made those footsteps during night.
But there was nothing.
Tintin sighed, irked slightly. He planned everything so well. Changing the subject of breakfast chatter towards Captain’s seafaring past was a piece of cake. And, exactly as expected, doctor Ackerley asked for some story. Which led to another story and to everyone gathering in Blue parlour. Archibald is great storyteller. Thanks to this, nobody noticed his sneaky departure. Brilliant. He had to leave Snowy there unfortunately, since the dog snuggled on couch on opposite side of room. So he went alone to the corridor connecting their given room to search for evidence. Which he didn’t find.
Tintin tapped his foot, gazing at the door to Captain’s bedroom.
Cuthbert smiled at the way how distrustfully Snowy sniffed the rose bush before ‘watering’ it. He noticed the dog’s stiff posture with eyes locked on the door, the signal that he need to go out, and now, or else the carpet would suffer his ‘wet revenge’, in the middle of Captain’s tale about shark-fishing in West Indies. Surprisingly, Tintin was nowhere to be found, so Professor took pity on the faithful dog and took him to his wee-walk. It was kind of strange, because, despite the fact that both Tintin and Cuthbert know Archibald’s stories by heart, they hardly miss any opportunity to listen to them again.
Snowy huffed. His master had sneaked away again. Tintin is sooo going to end up in troubles. He should track him down, before something bad happens. Suddenly, Snowy felt unfamiliar presence. He cocked his head and looked around, whining quizzically. Next to Professor was a human pup, girl barely at age of seven, dressed in pink dress with frills. And that was strange. Very strange. For two reasons: One – she haven’t been there before he marked this territory as his own. Two – she does not have a scent. Every human have a scent. Every! And those are unique mixtures. Like the one of ‘Great Feeder’ – compound of home, freshly washed clothes, polish, kitchen and cat.
But that girl does not smell of anything. That girl … O.
For the mighty bark!
Snowy toppled down to sit, his jaws wide open in amazement.
He can see the rose bush behind that girl. She is see-through.
She is see-through!
Humans are not supposed to be see-through.
Tintin dragged an incredibly heavy armchair from Professor’s room, a ‘safety-catch’ for the door to Archibald’s bedroom to stay open. He tapped on walls, but he didn’t find any hollow sounding places. He paced all across the room, but parquets didn’t squeak the slightest. He went to all fours in adjacent closet in search of stash (he discovered one accidentally in Marlinspike while playing with Snowy), but nothing of that sort was here. He checked ceiling, he looked under paintings and behind furniture, but he found nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
This room was completely ordinary.
He toppled down to bed, snorting with annoyance. “Oh, come on!” He said aloud. “I am missing something, aren’t I?” He looked from window absentmindedly for a while, his mind working frantically at the problem at hand. Did he really check all the possibilities? Each and every one? Oh. Of course he didn’t.
“You are idiot, Tintin.” He scolded himself.
He forgot to look underneath bed.
Tintin rolls down from bed, ending up on all fours for the second time that day. With his stubborn determination he pulls the patchwork counterpane up so he can see the space beneath. There is a thick layer of dust, but counterpane opposite him is fluttering slightly, as if someone touched it just a second ago. Mattress springs above him squeak and he feels something jumping over him, he hears it landing on parquets and those unmistakable clattering of tiny paws across the wooden flooring clutch his heart in ice grasp. He hurls himself up and turns quickly. The only thing different from before is slightly ajar closet door. He breathes out feebly.
What the … ?
Tintin stands up and makes resolute, if slightly trembling, step towards the closet.
Something exhale behind him, ice-cold breath tickle the scruff of his neck and he turns with startled yelp. His eyes widens with terror.
The door is closed.
The door is closed!
The door to this room is tight shut, despite the fact that there stood a frigging heavy armchair in its way!
Closet door on opposite side of bedroom slam wide open. He screams and turns again, to face completely empty and painfully cold room. His fingertips are freezing and his breath precipitate to wispy puffs.
Perhaps he underestimated this situation.
He backs away slowly, eyes glued to gaping dimness of closet. His back meet with the heavy wood of main door and he gropes blindly for knob. He tries to open that damned door, he tries it again and again and again. “Come on. OH, come on!” He whispers shakily. He turns and tugs at the knob using his whole weight, but the door refuse to move even the slightest.
He underestimated this situation.
Loud growling fill the bedroom and Tintin turns on his heel, back pressed to the malicious door. He catches a glimpse of something disappearing underneath bed.
It is rat.
It must be rat.
“It is rat.” He tries to persuade himself.
Only …
Only that such big rats aren’t even the Sumatra ones.
author's notes
Feeling cliffhanged again? :D (I feel very vicious.)
x Captain is calling Tintin ‘Tini’, since I consider it cute and I am keen on small adorable-sounding nicknames.
x Tintin is rational young man and hence does not believe in supernatural. Plus, this story takes place before ‘Flight 714’ and even before ‘Tibet’.
x By ‘Great Feeder’ Snowy means Nestor. Who else.
x I daresay that secret stash or some sort of small hide is pretty common in old manor houses. You do not need to have whole dungeon (but it sure might be convenient) or miles of secret passages, but some space where valuables might be hidden is indeed handy.
x The Giant Rat of Sumatra is one of the most (in)famous Holmes cases, “a story for which the world is not yet prepared”, as stated by The Great Detective himself in ‘The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire’. It was not written by A. C. Doyle, but there are lot Sherlock Holmes homages/pastiches dealing with this particular r.o.u.s.. (Come on, you have to know this abbreviation!) Actually, it is referred in Spielberg movie, when Snowy jumps to Captain’s field of vision for first time. It made me sooo happy. ^^
x Kady, I swear that I had this whole scenario planned before we embarked into the discussion about closet doors!
Story so far : Professor Calculus was invited to England by his old colleague, younger brother of Lord of Moonshire, and he took Captain, Tintin and Snowy along. The Manor feels slightly strange (especially to Snowy and Captain), but nothing unusual happened at first. Yet, the second night of their visit is full of unpleasant hair-rising surprises.
Warnings : Tintin/Haddock established relationship. Mild fluff. Spooky stuffs.
part one part two this part part four part five part six [next parts pending]
The Mystery of Moonshire Manor (part 3)
“Captain?” Tintin stands in doorframe, dressed in pajamas, lamp in hand and Snowy at his side.
Archibald breathes out gratefully. “T-ti-ttt-tin…”
“Goodness gracious, what’s wrong?” The ginger hastens to him, leaving the door wide open. He lays the lamp at night table. “Archie?” Tintin takes Captain’s face to his arms. “Archie, what’s wrong? You are pale as ghost.”
Captain laughs faintly, nervously. His still shaking hands grab Tintin’s and the ginger is surprised by how cold they are.
“C-can I stay in yer room, please?”
“Surely.” Tintin presses their foreheads together, the ever calming intimate gesture. “Come.” He hoists Captain up by pulling at his hands, all possible jokes and witty remarks bitten back. Because his brave sailor is truly frightened.
Snowy whines under his feet and Tintin quickly looks down, assuring himself that he didn’t stamp at his dog. But no, that’s not the problem. Archibald squats and takes Snowy in his arms. Tintin grabs the lamp in one hand and Captain’s arm in other and tugs them towards door. They are closed securely and he had to give the lamp to Archibald, since he needs both hands to open them. When the hinges screech rustily, it hits him. As unconsciousness-bringing slap across face. He did not close the door. And they are too heavy to close spontaneously. Plus, he would have heard it.
Tintin can feel the ice-cold fear clutching him, his breath hitches.
What … How …?
“Tini?” Archibald asks, already in hallway, clutching Snowy like shock-blanket.
Tintin forces smile at his face. Leaving the door open he lays his hand on Archibald’s back and prompts them to movement. “Your room is terribly cold. You need to warm up.”
He will not let Captain enter that room ever again.
Tintin observed Archibald’s peaceful sleeping face in the faint light of oil reading lamp, one hand folded under own head, the other laid on Captain’s side, Snowy snuggled between them. They rarely share bed when staying over in somebody’s house and even rarer sleep with light switched on. But in the safeness of Moulinsart, where they didn’t need to hold back, they often drift off tangled in embrace, enjoyably spent after lovemaking, with Snowy curled up in the foot of the bed.
Tintin smiled affectionately and delivered tender kiss on the top of Archibald’s nose.
No one would threaten his Captain.
Nothing would threaten his Captain.
Snowy wagged his tail fiercely because Tintin shifted closer to Captain, which enclosed the white dog more securely between those two males.
Snowy was contented.
Both his humans were there with him.
He can protect them.
He will protect them.
Because they are his humans. His pack.
And nothing on the whole world would endanger them unless facing him first.
Nothing.
There was nothing which could have made those sounds on the hallway.
Tintin pouted.
But it must be logically explainable.
For the simple reason that such things as ghosts, monsters, zombies and extraterrestrials simply do not exist. So there must be some sort of gadget or secret passage or quick butler with fondness for practical jokes or something which made those footsteps during night.
But there was nothing.
Tintin sighed, irked slightly. He planned everything so well. Changing the subject of breakfast chatter towards Captain’s seafaring past was a piece of cake. And, exactly as expected, doctor Ackerley asked for some story. Which led to another story and to everyone gathering in Blue parlour. Archibald is great storyteller. Thanks to this, nobody noticed his sneaky departure. Brilliant. He had to leave Snowy there unfortunately, since the dog snuggled on couch on opposite side of room. So he went alone to the corridor connecting their given room to search for evidence. Which he didn’t find.
Tintin tapped his foot, gazing at the door to Captain’s bedroom.
Cuthbert smiled at the way how distrustfully Snowy sniffed the rose bush before ‘watering’ it. He noticed the dog’s stiff posture with eyes locked on the door, the signal that he need to go out, and now, or else the carpet would suffer his ‘wet revenge’, in the middle of Captain’s tale about shark-fishing in West Indies. Surprisingly, Tintin was nowhere to be found, so Professor took pity on the faithful dog and took him to his wee-walk. It was kind of strange, because, despite the fact that both Tintin and Cuthbert know Archibald’s stories by heart, they hardly miss any opportunity to listen to them again.
Snowy huffed. His master had sneaked away again. Tintin is sooo going to end up in troubles. He should track him down, before something bad happens. Suddenly, Snowy felt unfamiliar presence. He cocked his head and looked around, whining quizzically. Next to Professor was a human pup, girl barely at age of seven, dressed in pink dress with frills. And that was strange. Very strange. For two reasons: One – she haven’t been there before he marked this territory as his own. Two – she does not have a scent. Every human have a scent. Every! And those are unique mixtures. Like the one of ‘Great Feeder’ – compound of home, freshly washed clothes, polish, kitchen and cat.
But that girl does not smell of anything. That girl … O.
For the mighty bark!
Snowy toppled down to sit, his jaws wide open in amazement.
He can see the rose bush behind that girl. She is see-through.
She is see-through!
Humans are not supposed to be see-through.
Tintin dragged an incredibly heavy armchair from Professor’s room, a ‘safety-catch’ for the door to Archibald’s bedroom to stay open. He tapped on walls, but he didn’t find any hollow sounding places. He paced all across the room, but parquets didn’t squeak the slightest. He went to all fours in adjacent closet in search of stash (he discovered one accidentally in Marlinspike while playing with Snowy), but nothing of that sort was here. He checked ceiling, he looked under paintings and behind furniture, but he found nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
This room was completely ordinary.
He toppled down to bed, snorting with annoyance. “Oh, come on!” He said aloud. “I am missing something, aren’t I?” He looked from window absentmindedly for a while, his mind working frantically at the problem at hand. Did he really check all the possibilities? Each and every one? Oh. Of course he didn’t.
“You are idiot, Tintin.” He scolded himself.
He forgot to look underneath bed.
Tintin rolls down from bed, ending up on all fours for the second time that day. With his stubborn determination he pulls the patchwork counterpane up so he can see the space beneath. There is a thick layer of dust, but counterpane opposite him is fluttering slightly, as if someone touched it just a second ago. Mattress springs above him squeak and he feels something jumping over him, he hears it landing on parquets and those unmistakable clattering of tiny paws across the wooden flooring clutch his heart in ice grasp. He hurls himself up and turns quickly. The only thing different from before is slightly ajar closet door. He breathes out feebly.
What the … ?
Tintin stands up and makes resolute, if slightly trembling, step towards the closet.
Something exhale behind him, ice-cold breath tickle the scruff of his neck and he turns with startled yelp. His eyes widens with terror.
The door is closed.
The door is closed!
The door to this room is tight shut, despite the fact that there stood a frigging heavy armchair in its way!
Closet door on opposite side of bedroom slam wide open. He screams and turns again, to face completely empty and painfully cold room. His fingertips are freezing and his breath precipitate to wispy puffs.
Perhaps he underestimated this situation.
He backs away slowly, eyes glued to gaping dimness of closet. His back meet with the heavy wood of main door and he gropes blindly for knob. He tries to open that damned door, he tries it again and again and again. “Come on. OH, come on!” He whispers shakily. He turns and tugs at the knob using his whole weight, but the door refuse to move even the slightest.
He underestimated this situation.
Loud growling fill the bedroom and Tintin turns on his heel, back pressed to the malicious door. He catches a glimpse of something disappearing underneath bed.
It is rat.
It must be rat.
“It is rat.” He tries to persuade himself.
Only …
Only that such big rats aren’t even the Sumatra ones.
author's notes
Feeling cliffhanged again? :D (I feel very vicious.)
x Captain is calling Tintin ‘Tini’, since I consider it cute and I am keen on small adorable-sounding nicknames.
x Tintin is rational young man and hence does not believe in supernatural. Plus, this story takes place before ‘Flight 714’ and even before ‘Tibet’.
x By ‘Great Feeder’ Snowy means Nestor. Who else.
x I daresay that secret stash or some sort of small hide is pretty common in old manor houses. You do not need to have whole dungeon (but it sure might be convenient) or miles of secret passages, but some space where valuables might be hidden is indeed handy.
x The Giant Rat of Sumatra is one of the most (in)famous Holmes cases, “a story for which the world is not yet prepared”, as stated by The Great Detective himself in ‘The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire’. It was not written by A. C. Doyle, but there are lot Sherlock Holmes homages/pastiches dealing with this particular r.o.u.s.. (Come on, you have to know this abbreviation!) Actually, it is referred in Spielberg movie, when Snowy jumps to Captain’s field of vision for first time. It made me sooo happy. ^^
x Kady, I swear that I had this whole scenario planned before we embarked into the discussion about closet doors!
