Thomas's life is falling apart. So is his house. The badger has struggled to cope now that his husband Charlie is long gone... or is he?

Today’s story is “A Sweet October Night” by Pascal Farful, who discovered relativity in the back of a post office, got blind drunk and forgot all about it, and you can find more of his stories on his Furaffinity page.

Scene, Interior: A house, emptied by death, a space left vacant that once was occupied. But empty spaces do not remain empty, and there are many things both ready and eager to expand to fill them. Come share ‘A Sweet October Night,' on... The Ghost of Dog.

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

And this week we’re reading Halloween stories.

Today’s story is

“A Sweet October Night”

by Pascal Farful,

who discovered relativity in the back of a post office,

got blind drunk and forgot all about it,

and you can find more of his stories on his Furaffinity page.

Scene, Interior: A house, emptied by death, a space left vacant that once was occupied.

But empty spaces do not remain empty,

and there are many things both ready and eager to expand to fill them.

Come share ‘A Sweet October Night,'

on... The Ghost of Dog. “A Sweet October Night” by Pascal Farful Copy and paste your story here:

Thomas stirred in bed.

It looked like another uneasy night.

The banging from the plumbing had gotten worse day on day with no end in sight.

It wasn’t a problem during the day, but at night the temperature would dwindle

and the pipes would start to thrash around.

Each day it grew louder and each day the place became colder.

He’d wrapped himself under as many blankets as he could find to stay warm, but he couldn’t get any real sleep.

The badger stared blankly up at the ceiling,

then rolled across to put his arms around where his husband once lay,

arms laying wrapped around the memory and nothing more.

He hadn’t been the same since Charlie passed.

The rat had been his mate for the best part of 30 years.

Now in his mid-fifties and without the warmth of his spouse by his side,

Thomas had let a lot of things go

and a lot of things slip out of grasp.

The funeral was the last time anyone had really seen much of him in a public capacity

and the manor where they’d lived began to deteriorate around him.

Just like he was.

The badger grumbled and climbed from the bed.

Time for some water, to regroup and try again.

The building was dark.

Moonlight poured through the windows where it could.

The silence of the night was deafening as Thomas trudged from the bedroom out towards the kitchen.

Cold air ruffled through his fur,

making him shiver to the bone.

Walking down the hallway,

Thomas’s eyes were drawn into a far room.

The door was left ajar,

like an open wound.

Within it was a grand piano.

In better times, Thomas would sit there and play

while Charlie would lean against the top, drink in hand and sing with that velvet baritone

the badger had fallen for all those years ago.

A thick layer of dust

coated the instrument

and the badger couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, let alone play it.

It lay untouched from the last time the pair had had their moment together in there.

The badger collected a glass of water from the kitchen,

needing to walk past the loud boiler room as he went,

then turned to go back up stairs and towards his room again.

Perhaps water was what he needed.

Perhaps a little more sleep in his eyes. Perhaps that would be the difference.

Slowly, he trudged towards that long corridor.

As he moved to step back into the hallway,

he stopped dead in his tracks.

“On a sweet October night,

t’was your touch that saw me right…”

He shivered. He must just have been imagining it.

He was so tired after all. A sick trick of a desperate mind.

“You held me like

no other man could,

your heart with mine

as it always should…”

It was a vivid, vivid illusion.

Charlie’s voice even seemed to be coming from the room with the piano in it.

“So come take me home,

hold me in those arms tonight…”

Thomas’ head pounded as he moved to step past the door.

It was a hallucination.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But he stopped outside the door, anchored in place by the ballast in his heart.

Curiosity took the better of him and he turned to look inside.

“My dear darling

please, make it right…”

The glass fell to the floor and shattered into a billion beautiful pieces.

Thomas’s mind all but did in kind.

He stared, numb to the core, as a bright, white spirit stood before him.

Wearing the tuxedo he was married in,

wearing that smile that entranced him all those years ago.

Charlie’s spirit stood and stared right back into Thomas’ eyes.

A silence so loud his ears rang.

A vision so clear his eyes stung.

The badger stumbled back against the wall.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

The figure of the rat stepped forth.

The spirit even carried itself like Charlie.

“No… no, no you’re not…”

Thomas gasped, his voice collapsing, his legs doing likewise and slamming him down onto the wood,

thankfully missing the shards of glass and water.

There, Thomas lay.

Body battered. Mind blank.

Eyes fixed on the figure

before him. Charlie’s spirit slowly walked towards the badger.

“Please Thomas, be not afraid of me.”

Charlie said, the voice otherworldly.

It was distinctly Charlie’s but Thomas heard it

like it was coming from the very walls themselves.

All consuming. Everywhere at once.

The wording, the cadence wasn’t quite perfect,

but close enough. The rat was crying now,

seemingly aware of the badger’s terror.

Thomas had never heard of a ghost that could cry, and he would have never wanted his husband to be the one that did it first.

Was it the thought of upsetting him, or the shame in what he had become?

What the house had become?

With that one, final thought, Thomas blacked

out. – The badger awoke slowly that morning.

He was still lying on the floor and there were still shards of glass all over the place.

The water had largely evaporated in the morning sun.

It was warm now and the pipes lay silent.

Sunlight poured into the building, blossoming and filling it.

He stood up slowly,

body aching and mind racing.

With the glass and water cleaned up,

Thomas tried to get his head together.

If he was hallucinating his dead husband, he was in deep,

deep trouble. He entered a cycle of walking up to the phone, ready to call someone for help,

then getting cold feet and stepping away.

He’d distract himself by tidying up, dusting a few things. Not the piano room of course, some places he still couldn’t bear to look at.

But he gave a deep clean to just about every other room in the manor.

Perhaps it was just the guilt of a filthy house.

Maybe that was all.

Once clean, it’d all stop.

Back to the phone.

Who would he call? What would he say?

It was so humiliating to still be grieving this badly this many years on. Again, cold feet. He’d pick up the phone, ready to dial something,

then place it back down.

He then used up more time by cleaning himself up.

A shower. A long, long one. A trim of the fur, a scrub up and clean up.

As much as these were hard, anything was easier than talking. There was only one person he wanted to talk to,

and they only seemed to appear at night.

That night, having still failed to speak to anyone about anything, Thomas renewed his effort at getting some sleep.

He elected to go to bed earlier in the day,

just as the sun was setting

in order to get a head start on the pipes.

A freshly cleaned Thomas arrived in his freshly cleaned room,

he slipped out of his smartly-worn clothes and climbed into his made bed.

He reached across to flick off the light.

Click. Charlie. There.

Foot of the bed. The bright white spirit of the rat stood tall. All earthly light cowered away from the fantastical radiance of the spirit.

Charlie’s figure didn’t gently fade into view. He didn’t arrive slowly when darkness came. No. He’d always been there. Thomas screamed and tried to reach for the light switch again, but he couldn’t look away.

He was bound in place.

“No! Please!” Charlie begged.

The badger stopped screaming.

He waited. Time came to an abrupt halt.

He stared back into his husband’s ghost’s eyes.

The stare held solid and Thomas slowly eased back into the bed. “You’re

not real.” Thomas whispered.

“You can’t be real.”

Charlie sighed silently and shook his head.

“My dear, any attempts to prove my legitimacy to you are counter to my motive.”

He said softly and quietly.

“What do you want from me?”

Thomas asked curtly,

still not completely believing what he saw.

Charlie approached the bed, moving silently.

His movements didn’t disturb the air in his path,

he moved seemingly without friction.

“I need you to leave this place.

It isn’t safe.” Charlie said.

Thomas shook his head on instinct.

“But this is my home.”

He said. “Our home.”

Charlie gulped and nodded.

“I know that. But what matters is your safety

and you are not safe here.”

Thomas gulped. “Is there some way I can

save this place?” The rat ghost pondered, then nodded.

“Yes, but I would rather you didn’t.

Not now.” The badger protested again, but was silenced by Charlie.

“I love you. I want you safe,

that’s all I care about.

As much as I long for and crave your touch, it’s not your time yet.”

The rat explained. “Come,

we must go.” Thomas stayed still a moment, then slowly eased to his feet.

He approached Charlie’s spirit as he looked back to him.

This close it was… impossible to deny it anymore.

He had the mannerisms, the voice, the look in his eyes… It was Charlie.

Taking a moment so the badger could put on his dressing gown, the rat led Thomas out of the bedroom and into the hallway again.

Thomas wiped some tears onto his wrists to hide them from his spouse.

As he walked past, Thomas looked in at the piano,

seeing that the dust on the top of it had been disturbed.

Someone had been in there,

but he had no memory of it being him.

As the pair navigated downstairs, Charlie’s ghost became more vivid

as Thomas approached the boiler room.

There was a definite odour coming from within.

“What’s that smell?”

Thomas asked, coming to a halt. “Bad.” Charlie said simply.

“Bad smell, bad place. We must go now.”

This smell was definitely having an effect on Charlie,

and as Thomas followed him towards the doors to the exit of the manor,

the spirit became more

coherent, both visually and verbally.

Thomas couldn’t see as much through the rat’s figure,

becoming more solid. More real. The badger followed the rat outside and onto the grass,

coming to a halt about a metre from the door.

“Alright, you’re safe out here. You’ll

need help to-”

Charlie began, but the end of the phrase was garbled.

“To what?” “To-” and then the garbling returned.

It didn’t feel like words,

it was as if there was a piece of data missing,

something utterly incoherent, like a totally different language.

As soon as Thomas heard it, it disappeared from his brain.

His head pounded.

There was a secret here he

just wasn’t getting.

Like it was being redacted in real time.

“Alright.” Thomas said in defeat.

They stood silently for a while,

cold air wrapping itself around the badger,

then sweeping away in whisps.

Thomas took a deep, deep breath.

“Listen, can I ask you something?”

The badger asked.

“Of course.” Charlie replied.

The badger looked back into the house, then looked down at himself,

then back up into his husband’s ghostly eyes.

“Have I… failed?” Charlie’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do

you mean? You’re out here safe.”

The rat replied. “Well yes, but not like that.

I mean… I let the house fall to pieces,

I lost control of myself.”

Thomas cried. “I never got over losing you.”

He admitted, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Charlie knelt down, reaching out to comfort

him. The ghostly paws seemed to rest on the badger’s shoulders,

but Thomas couldn’t feel them.

“You didn’t fail me.

Nobody said this was going to be easy.”

Charlie said. “Even if I’m gone, I still believe in you.”

The words hung for a moment.

“Why? Why do you still believe in me?”

Thomas asked. “Why?” Charlie asked, almost insulted.

“Why shouldn’t I?” The rat asked. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t believe in you.

You’re still the man I love, you’re

still the man I fell in love with all those years ago.

Time has been tough. Time will be tough,

but you are here and you are strong.”

Thomas sat completely in silence, letting the words float in the midnight air

and sink gracefully in.

Finally, he nodded.

Charlie nodded back and smiled again.

“I believe in you, and I always will.”

The badger took a deep breath of the fresh air

and tried to think.

To his shock, Charlie’s ghost grew fainter

the more the badger breathed fresh air.

The further he was away from the smell,

the less powerful Charlie’s ghost was.

But the closer he got, the more vivid he appeared.

Like a bolt from the blue, it hit him.

The badger gulped. “It’s the boiler.”

Charlie nodded. “Yes, that’s what I was saying. You need someone to get the boiler replaced, it’s-.” “Carbon Monoxide.”

Thomas said, turning back to the door, then looking to Charlie.

“But then that means…”

The badger took another gulp, tears streaming down his face as the rat looked back at him.

“I love you Charlie.

I’ve always wanted to say it

to your face one last time if I could.”

He said. His heart was heavy,

conflict filled him.

His heart yearned for the fumes, believing it to be the key to bringing the man he loved more than anything back to him.

But he knew Charlie didn’t want that for him,

and he knew that as much as his gut yearned for it, he had to be strong. It’s what

Charlie wanted. And he didn’t want to be defeated. He’d tried too damn hard.

He noticed that Charlie was looking inquisitively at him.

Seemingly Thomas’s face had given away his inner turmoil.

“I want to go back in there and turn off the boiler.”

Thomas said simply.

“No.” The rat said, shaking his head. “It’s not safe.

For your own safety, would you

please stay out here with me?

You can get help to fix it, but I don’t want you going in there.”

With every breath of fresh air,

Charlie’s words grew less cohesive.

But Thomas’s ability to think rationally was returning. Thomas continued to think. “Okay,

okay.” He said. “Alright, better idea.

We go to a phone and call someone, like the fire department.” Charlie nodded again.

“Yes, okay. Good idea.

I will guard the house.”

“How?” Charlie shrugged,

then raised his ghostly arms. “Woooooo!”

The badger left the manor grounds and got onto the pavement outside,

ran up the street and found a payphone.

For a moment he was conflicted. For a moment

he wondered if it could still be an illusion.

With a growl, he forced himself to push past the concern

and grabbed the phone.

He made a quick dial for the fire brigade

and explained the situation,

sans ghost of course.

Once done, he threw the phone back on the receiver

and ran back to the house.

Up on the grass outside, he encountered Charlie’s spirit again, but he was very,

very pale indeed.

“The fire brigade are on their way.”

Thomas explained. The rat nodded

and the pair stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I think you know what happens now.”

Charlie whispered. “You’re safe though, that’s what matters.”

Thomas nodded, tears starting to drip down his cheeks again. “That

means you’re going, doesn’t

it?” The rat nodded and gulped.

“I’m afraid so.” “It was so hard to lose you the first time.”

Thomas muttered. “I know.

It’s not weak to grieve it.”

Charlie said, kneeling down with the badger.

“Just remember, even though my body is gone,

I never truly left, did I?”

Thomas reached out to hug his husband one last time,

but his arms glided smoothly through his figure and

he dropped to his knees,

numb to the core.

“Goodbye my dear, be safe.”

Charlie said at last.

Thomas could only nod and weep as the figure of the rat gradually vanished into the cold air,

the badger knelt motionless on the grass

as the fire engine arrived.

– “Alright then, that’s one new boiler fitted.”

“Magnificent, thank you so much.”

Thomas said to the plumber, a fox.

“No problem. To be honest, it’s a miracle you were able to work out what was wrong without any Carbon Monoxide detectors.

Most folks get poisoned or die without knowing what caused it.”

The fox explained as the pair moved to the front door.

“I had a little help”

The badger said. “Oh, who from?”

Thomas gulped. “Well…

when my husband said he’d always be with me in spirit I…

didn’t take him literally.”

he said. The fox stared back

with bemusement, then gave a shake of the head.

“Just remember to test that the CO alarms are working regularly, okay?”

She said, turning and walking outside to her van.

“Will do!” Thomas called, before closing the door and heading back inside.

With the boiler fitted, Thomas reached into his closet

and retrieved his tux.

He got dressed and walked out of the hallway.

He stepped into the freshly dusted piano room,

pulling out the stool and taking a seat.

The sheet music was still sat in it’s holder,

but Thomas wasn’t convinced he’d need it.

As he began to play, he could hear his husband’s voice accompany him once more.

“On a sweet October

morn, you greet me like

a summer dawn, You hold me like

you always would,

even as they said you never could,

You came and took me home,

held me in those arms just right,

My dear made it home safe tonight”

Thomas looked up from the piano, as if his eyes were meeting the gaze of his husband’s again like they

had all those years

ago. This was “A Sweet October Night”

by Pascal Farful,

read for you by Rob MacWolf,

as part of a special Halloween presentation called The Ghost Of Dog. As always,

you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.