Callie
I’d added Cherry to Connor’s team and Liv to Jack’s. Sunny would give himself an aneurysm if he tried to protect the three women in his life at once. Jack’s team was staying in the dining room to check if they found any more activity from Janie. Connor was on route to cabin thirteen, and we were making our way to nineteen. After dinner, we’d swap accommodations and see if we could confirm what the other team had or hadn’t received.
Sunny kept glancing over his shoulder as if he were going to rush back to Liv.
“She’ll be fine with Jack,” I said, and Sunny nodded curtly. I knew this wasn’t the time to push him.
The two teams split as we hit the cabins, and we headed into ours.
“What’s been recorded here?” Sunny asked.
“Knick-knacks moving on their own accord, the doors opening and shutting, and cold hands making contact with people,” I replied.
“Slapping or touching?” Sunny demanded.
“Touching. There’ve also been reports of laughter,” I added.
“Children or adults?” Ashford asked.
“Undetermined.”
“Okay. Callie will lead, Phil will film. Ashford, you and I are her eyes in the other rooms,” Sunny said.
Ashford nodded. “No probs. I’ll take the second bedroom and bathroom.”
“I’ll take the main,” Sunny stated.
“Okay. Is anyone here?” I called out and started my usual introduction to the team.
There was no reply for a good hour. Then, all of a sudden, Ashford yelped as the bedroom door he was in slammed shut.
“Ashford, are you okay?” I shouted, startled.
“Yeah, just made me jump,” he replied as he opened the door.
“Think you need to see this,” Phil called, laughter warring with shock in his voice.
I headed to the window Phil had been peering out of, and my jaw dropped. I raced to open the chalet door with Phil on my heels.
“What the ever-loving hell?” Sunny exclaimed as he and Ashford gazed out of the window.
Laughter floated in the air, not a child’s but an adult’s, as I stared at the area in front of the cabin.
Fiona and Simon had decorated the outside of the village with Santas, baubles, presents, penguins, candy canes, small Christmas trees, robins, and so on. I was stunned speechless by the scene in front of me.
Each path leading to a cabin was lined with something. In this instance, we had Santas all holding little lanterns to light the way to the door. Rude Santas. To music only they could hear, the Santas were dancing. Not just normal dancing; no, it seemed the ghosts here had a sense of humour. On the right, they weretwerking, rounded little butts stuck outwards—and they were giving it all they could.
On the left, they were belly dancing. Their red jackets pulled up, bellies hanging out, hips swivelling, and hands in motion. They even twirled their white beards.
“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed as a ghostly chuckle sounded beside me.
“I’m filming this, but can’t quite believe it,” Phil muttered.
The Santas seemed to see us as they all turned to face us as one, which was really creepy as they continued dancing. The one closest to me winked and jiggled his belly harder.
A laugh escaped me as Sunny hauled me back. Really? A plastic belly-dancing Santa threatened him? Silly man.
Ashford pushed past me and picked up the nearest Santa, which stopped moving and stared at him. Unfazed, Ashford checked it over on camera before turning to us.
