Book Six: Chapter 38

The two of them struggled, but the spirit had very little mass and was now moaning. Mike opened the nearby window to shove it outside, but the cold, white sky was gone. Instead, a dark void had replaced it with tiny lights in the distance.

“Mikey, did you lock this door?” His mother was rattling the doorknob now. “Honey, get the screwdriver.”

“Good a place as any,” Mike declared, then dove outside with the spirit wrapped in his arms. As they fell, he saw his memories spread out like holograms, all of them frozen with lines of static like an old VCR screen. Grabbing onto the spirit, he tilted his body toward one of the memories and crashed into it.

He slid across the polished floor of a hotel lobby, clutching Christmas Past’s head to his body. Through the windows, a ferocious blizzard churned, and Mike saw a younger version of himself sitting in a lounge chair and staring out into the snow.

“Ah, nice. The year my girlfriend Rebecca and I got stranded while tra