Book Six: Chapter 136

Climbing to his feet, he made his way to the stairs and walked up. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the kitchen. It was empty, as if nobody lived there.

“Great,” he muttered, rubbing at the lump on his forehead. When he leaned on the countertop for support, it felt strangely sponge-like. Puzzled, he lifted his hand away and saw that he could see through himself.

“That can’t be good.” He walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room. The table had the usual number of seats with the ghost of Christmas Future sitting at the end, a small radio clutched in their hands.

“You really are a creepy fucker.” Mike tensed up, expecting the spirit to come for him. Instead, it turned on the radio, filling the room with the sounds of static. Long digits fiddled with the tuning knob, filling the room with a cacophony of sounds.

“Mi...ke...Rad...ley.” It was a mishmash of conversations and music, put together into a cohesive statement that Mike absolutely hate