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Seen from the outside, the long church windows blazed with blue-white light that turned the grey October evening to a bright afternoon in spring. A beam of illumination lanced through the crack in the partially-opened wooden door and passing motorists grumbled and shielded their eyes as it dazzled them.
In the warm, incense-smelling interior, Mayor Chisel squinted behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses borrowed from one of the garbage men standing motionless beside him. He held a manila file folder bulging with papers in one hand and a brazier smoking with burial herbs in the other, and he was having trouble remembering which one to swing with ceremonial solemnity and which to wave threateningly.
“Listen, guys,” he said, addressing the burning incandescence that filled the knave. “This is a matter of the public’s best interest, and in this town, the public is me.”
The thing in the church didn’t respond in words, but there was a sense of something shifting uneasily within the blaze.
“Non-milk-truck accidents are up three hundred percent for this stretch of road since you set up shop here,” Chisel continued. “Teachers in the kindergarten next door are saying they can’t use the overhead projectors anymore because there’s too much ambient light leaking into the classrooms, and the Concerned Citizens of Canine Descent have complained that the glare from the circular windows are interfering with celebrations at the full moon.”
He settled himself on a well-worn wooden pew scarred with claw marks and spotted in places with crimson splashes of venal blood that had never been cleaned.
“I respect that you’re new in town, and looking to make your mark,” he said. “We’ve all been the up and coming monster on the block, and I can sympathise.”
He gestured at the bench beside him, and the blinding glow drifted down to sit beside him.
“But here in Eerie, we like to keep to the old ways.”
The light moved, the faintest impression of a head tilted to one side.
Chisel set the brazier aside and opened the thick sheaf of papers.
“Civic Code 1966, Chapter 6, subsection 6.1,” he read aloud, pointing to the highlighted section. “All grave-ghasts, hallow ghouls and burial wights will comply with the existing colour scheme selected by the Eerie Chamber of Commerce in conjunction with the Ladies Society for the Beautification of Eerie, to whit, a yellowish-green of sickly appearance and unsettling ambience.
6.1.1: Grey or brownish tones may be included by special Mayoral approval only.
6.1.2: In the event of a dispute as to what should constitute a sufficiency of “yellowish” or “green”, a fully-trained practitioner of the Pantone Colour Matching System shall serve as the final arbiter, said expert’s remuneration to be provided jointly by the parties to the dispute.
6.2: In addition, no spectre, spirit, spook or other apparition broadly characterised as “ghostly” shall, while occupying a religious house of worship, whether deconsecrated or not and regardless of regular usage, emit a ghost-light in excess of 200 lumens in the ordinary course of haunting.
6:2:1: For the purpose of this document, non-ordinary haunting events are defined as follows:
6.2.1.a: Recognisable anniversaries pertinent to the specific location and circumstances of the haunting, i.e. the death of the haunting entity’s earthly body
6.2.1.b: Events generally recognised as being of occult or spiritual significance, for example Halloween, solar or lunar eclipses, or Christmas Eve.
6.2.1.c: Precipitating events originating in the world of the living, for example, an incursion onto the haunting grounds by paranormal investigators whether for the purpose of televised entertainment or otherwise.”
Chisel closed the file and handed it to the amorphous swirling light.
“That’s your copy,” he said. “So, if you want to blind a couple of nosy flashlight-toting teens with head-mounted cameras who trespass on your turf, you go right ahead, but day to day, you keep the light down and the colour scheme green.”
The blinding brightness diminished, becoming a tobacco-tinged yellow. Chisel removed the mirrored shades and pocketed them, flashing a satisfied grin at the rough human shape slumped beside him on the bench.
He fished a leaflet out of his jacket pocket and laid it on the worn red seat cushion beside him.
“There are daylight courses for spectre education at Herman B. Wells Community College starting in the new year,” said Chisel. “The Eerie Department of Departed Development offers financial aid to students, if you were thinking of brushing up on your chain rattling or Ectoplasm Manifestation.”
The church ghost brightened, and then abruptly dimmed after a warning look from Eerie’s Mayor.
“That’s the spirit,” said Chisel. “Metaphorically speaking.”
He got to his feet. Around him, the sentinel garbage men turned as one to regard him with their empty mirror-eyes.
“Welcome to Eerie,” said the Mayor, and took his leave.
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Date: 2017-01-16 12:38 pm (UTC)And Civic Code 1966, Chapter 6, subsection 6.1!
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Date: 2017-01-16 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-17 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-17 08:07 am (UTC)