Excerpt: The Mail Order Ghost

Aaron was perspiring, streaks of sweat that turned to ice on his cheeks. As he breathed he was puffing clouds of cold. His whole body was covered in goose pimples that would probably never go away. Whatever was behind him, it was not a person, that was a certainty. It was some-thing. Something not normal, from somewhere else.
“Hey, kid.” It said again.
Aaron went for the door and tried to open it. He did not want to turn and look at the thing.
“What are you doing kid?” The voice was other-worldly, like a playing of some old record on Grandpa Joe's scratchy record player. Or like someone speaking down a long tunnel.
Aaron finally managed to yank the door open and what he saw may have been even worse than the alternative of turning around. He was high in the air, spinning out of control. He had seen this before.
“The Wizard of Oz.” Aaron said, and let the door close. “You're messing with me.”
He finally turned and saw a boyish face looking at him. It was ghostly white, big shiny teeth. The apparition was only a fraction taller than Aaron, and looked about the same age. His clothes were odd, they looked like really old baseball clothes. He even had the old school cap you saw in pictures of Babe Ruth or Mickey Mantle, one of those guys.
Aaron did the only thing he could figure to do. He screamed his head off and tried to pry open the door again.
“Where are ya going?”
Aaron did not, repeat, did not want to talk to a -
“I'm not gonna talk to a-” It hit him.
As he thought about the word, it slowly dawned on him. What he had sent for, the guy and the hot rod car. The dime that, yes, it really winked at him. Either he was completely off the deep end, gone bananas. Or he was really standing in the presence of a real life, honest to goodness-
“-Ghost.”
“Pleased ta meet ya.” said the ghost boy, tipping his cap.