Ghost Doll and Jasper: A Graphic Novel

by Fiona McDonald

  Ghost Doll

  and Jasper

  Ghost Doll

  and Jasper

  Fiona McDonald

  SKY PONY PRESS

  New York

  Copyright © 2012 by Fiona McDonald

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

  Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or info@skyhorsepublishing.com.

  Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

  Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  McDonald, Fiona.

  Ghost Doll and Jasper / Fiona McDonald.

  pages cm

  Summary: In search of a loving home, a ghost doll, accompanied by her cat companion, tries to navigate the modern city and avoid capture by an evil scientist.

  ISBN 978-1-62087-174-4 (hardcover : alk. paper) [1. Ghosts-Fiction. 2. Dolls-Fiction. 3. Cats-Fiction. 4. Friendship-Fiction. 5. Home-Fiction. 6. City and town life-Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.M47841774Gh 2012

  [Fic]-dc23

  2012027235

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my mother, Win McDonald

  Chapter 1

  In an old part of town,

  on a long forgotten street,

  in a house with no door,

  full of dark and musty corners, lay a dirty, battered doll.

  How many years she'd been there, no one could tell. Spiders had covered her with cobwebs and dust lay like a blanket over her, keeping her warm. Mice crept across the floor and sometimes scuttled over her body, plucking her hair for their nests. Beetles nibbled her fingers and toes while the winter wind blew dead leaves and empty food packets through the door. But the doll lay still and uncomplaining, oblivious to everything.

  Until one night…

  …when a star exploded and sent its powerful fragments showering through the atmosphere. One tiny spark fell through a hole in the roof and landed on the doll's forehead.

  It sank through the fragile plastic—she had been one of the first to be made in that marvelous new material—and deep within the empty eye sockets, old memories flickered into life.

  The doll awoke.

  What a sleep! So many dreams; how refreshing. She jumped up and spun around, light as the stardust she now was.

  The house was dark. Where was everybody? Where was her little girl? The doll wanted to share the dreams she'd had of flowers and picnics and tea parties with her.

  The rooms smelled cold and damp and lonely. The furniture was gone. The wallpaper hung in strips off the walls. How long had she slept? The doll went upstairs. The bedrooms were empty. No beds, no curtains, no toys. What had happened? The doll flitted from room to room. In Lucy's room, there was still the old wardrobe with its heavy mirror. The doll approached slowly—a suspicion had been growing in her. The wardrobe was bare, and there was not a sign that a little girl had once used it. No party dresses, hats, shoes, or pink hair ribbons.

  The long mirror was dark, reflecting back the cobwebs and stood before it and gasped. She was different. She was white and shining. Her legs had disappeared and her body was transparent. She'd become a ghost!

  Crystal tears streamed down her pale cheeks, and she crumpled to the floor like an old tissue. How had this happened? Why had she been left behind? And why was she awake now?

  Then she heard it. Ever so quietly, something was walking around downstairs. Ghost Doll sprang from the floor and dashed to the top of the steps. She was floating! Zooming! No feet, no legs, and she could go fast and as silent as the dead. She couldn't help giggling; it was quite fun.

  Ghost Doll peered over the rickety banister. Perhaps her girl had come back for her after all. She'd come back to find her special doll and take her to a new house. But there was no little girl standing in the room below. At first, Ghost Doll couldn't see anyone there. Then she heard the faint noise again, a slight movement, a gentle breath. In the far corner where she herself had been lying for so long, now lay a mangy black cat.

  Just a cat, thought Ghost Doll, disappointedly. Looking for shelter perhaps. It certainly hadn't belonged to the family. Mother had been allergic to animals, so there'd never been one in the house. “Nasty, dirty things,” Father had said. Ghost Doll had been inclined to agree with him, but she remembered how her little Lucy had wanted a pet so much. With that thought in mind, Ghost Doll silently drifted down the stairs.

  The cat was busy cleaning its leg. Drops of something dark fell to the floor: blood. Ghost Doll felt a pang of sympathy for the cat. It was hurt.

  “Kitty, kitty,” she called. The cat whirled around in a blur of black fur and sharp claws. Ghost Doll crept closer. “Kitty, kitty,” she called again. “It's all right, I won't hurt you.”

  The cat backed further into the corner, its back arched and its tail swelled out like a toilet brush, hissing and spitting. Ghost Doll could see more blood oozing out of a long gash on its upper leg. The poor cat had been in a fight.

  “Come on, kitty,” she coaxed, floating closer. The cat lashed out, and its paw sank through the doll's body. The cat cowered in fear. What was this new threat? he wondered. Ghost Doll reached out and put one finger on the tip of the cat's nose. Perhaps a speck of stardust lingered on her finger, because suddenly the cat relaxed. The two stared at each other for a whole minute.

  “What on earth are you?” asked the cat.

  “What do you mean, ‘what on earth are you?’ I'm a doll,” said Ghost Doll, annoyed.

  “Uh, not meaning to be rude,” said the cat, “but you are a bit see-through.”

  “Well, I'm rather old, I think,” said the doll. “And what are you doing in my house?”

  “Your house?” said the cat. “I didn't think anyone lived here anymore.”

  “Well, I do,” replied the doll. “Let's see your wounds. You happen to be dripping blood all over my wooden floor, and it will stain.”

  The cat gave her an odd look, but let Ghost Doll gently prod and poke him. She used spiderwebs to clean the cuts and bites.

  “Well, I'll be off now,” said the cat, limping towards the door.

  “You can't go out like that,” said the doll. “Your wounds will get infected, and you could freeze to death. Stay here, just for the night.” The cat was hesitant, as if he didn't trust her.

  “Don't suppose you've got anything to eat?” he asked.

  “Mice? You'd have to catch them yourself,” Ghost Doll replied.

  “I'll just go to sleep then, if you don't mind.” The cat looked around suspiciously. He curled around a couple of times, then made himself into a tight ball.

  “Thanks for letting me stay,” he said, and went to sleep.

  Ghost Doll sat and watched him. She was a bit disappointed that the cat hadn't wanted to talk. After all those years of silence she thought it would be nice to catch up on the happenings of the world. Perhaps in the morning the cat would feel better and be more talkative. Ghost Doll sat as still as if she had been made of stone. The mice came out as usual, but when they saw both the shimmering figure and the sleeping cat, they tiptoed
away as quickly as possible.

  Chapter 2

  That same night, in another part of town…

  “Blast it!” yelled a man. He was tall and thin with a head like a large, boiled egg. His glasses were so thick that they magnified his eyes out of proportion to his face.

  “Bring me the spanners.”

  A large creature, part animal, part machine, whirred across the tiled floor, pushing a metal tray on wheels. On the top lay an array of tools. “Not those!” the man yelled at the creature. “The others, those ones.”

  He waved towards the other corner of the room. The animal, possibly a dog, rolled towards the second cart, which held an almost identical set of tools, and pushed it over to his master.

  “We have to get this finished,” said the man as he tinkered with the large mass of metal and glass, bright knobs and levers. It looked like a large fish tank, only taller than it was long, and a bit like a shower stall.

  “Is the telescope set?” the man asked after a final twist of a bolt.

  “Yes, master,” replied the dog. Its metal tail moved squeakily from side to side in an attempt to wag.

  “You need an oil. Bring me the can. I can't afford a distraction when I'm working.” The dog brought an oil can over and stood patiently while his master put a couple of drops onto his tail.

  “There we are, good boy.” The man patted the top of the dog's large, metallic head, then stood, wiping his hands on an oily rag while his oversized eyes looked up at the clock on the wall.

  “Nearly time,” he said. “Come, let's see where it lands.” The man moved across the tiled floor to a brass telescope that stood before a large window. The town lay spread before him, a black silhouette against a darkening sky. Lights began to sprinkle their way across the town as people got ready for nighttime.

  All of a sudden, a great ball of fire came hurtling across the sky, trailing a long, blazing tail. The man stood in awe. The exploding star whizzed over the town, and as it did so, gold flakes broke away from it and floated down into a street some distance away.

  “Got it!” he shouted triumphantly. He scribbled down the general location of the fallen fragments. “No rush, the streets over that way are all deserted. They will be demolished very soon. No one knows what to do with stardust except me, so there is no hurry. We'll pick it up in the morning.” With that, he went back to working on his fish tank in the corner, a large smile spreading across his face.

  Chapter 3

  Ghost Doll was at the window, watching the sun rise over the tumbling roofs of the houses surrounding her. She had not seen dawn break for a very long time, and she admired the great burning ball as it steadily rose, making the dark of the night flee before it.

  The cat woke and tentatively stretched out a paw. He flinched with the pain of the wound, then carefully sat up and began licking himself.

  “Hello,” said Ghost Doll, turning from the window. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  The cat looked up from his cleaning. “Stiff and sore,” he said, and went back to washing his hind legs.

  “What happened to you?” Ghost Doll wandered over and sat down in front of him, not too close, though, as she felt he was still not sure about her.

  “Got into a fight.”

  “With what? Another cat?”

  “Of course it was another cat,” he answered without looking at her. “A big orange tom by the name of Murdo Nally.”

  Ghost Doll sat and watched, fascinated by the way the cat could twist and turn himself into such contortions while bathing. However, her own new form was vastly more flexible than her old one, which had been limited, being made of rigid plastic and having no elbows or knees.

  “And what is your name?” Ghost Doll asked. She didn't want to keep calling him “cat” or nothing at all.

  “Jasper,” the cat said. “What's yours?”

  Ghost Doll tried to remember. It had been a long time since anyone had called her anything.

  “Well, sometimes I was called Dolly,” she said at last. “But then I was Sweetie a lot of the time, or Darling, or You-Naughty-Girl—it all depended what my little girl Lucy was playing.”

  “So, what do I call you?”

  “Well, I'm not sure. I don't like any of those names really, so just call me Ghost Doll until we think of something else.”

  Jasper looked at his new friend with his yellow-green eyes and tried to think of a more suitable name. He couldn't.

  “Okay, Ghost Doll,” he said. “What about breakfast?”

  “Same problem as last night, I'm afraid,” said Ghost Doll. Of course, she didn't need to eat. She had never needed to. However, she did remember the tea parties she'd had with Lucy. There had been cakes with pink icing and little sandwiches cut into triangles. Lemonade had fizzed into the doll-sized teacups, and milk had frothed in the jug. Ghost Doll felt a pang of sadness and realized she could almost understand what “hunger” meant.

  “There is no food in the house,” she said. “I think my people left a long time ago. There are still lots of mice, though.”

  “Oh well, it can't be helped,” said Jasper, getting to his feet.“We should be going anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ghost Doll. “Why should we be going, and where? I don't need to eat, and this is my home. You go get some breakfast and then come back here. I thought we could talk.”

  Jasper stared at the doll.

  “You don't know?” he said. “You haven't heard?”

  “What?”

  “This house is going to be demolished. Today. In an hour or so. We move or get smashed along with the bricks and mortar. You can't stay here. It will be horrible.”

  “This house is getting knocked down? Why?” Ghost Doll hovered in the morning sun, and if it were possible for a ghost to go even paler, Jasper would have sworn she had turned pure white with fear.

  “There is a new shopping center planned for this area. All the old houses are being torn down. Three streets have already gone. It's a wonder you haven't heard the noise.”

  “I only woke up yesterday evening,” said Ghost Doll. “Jasper, what shall I do? I don't want to live in a pile of rubble. And my little girl has gone. What do I do now?”

  “I guess you'll have to come with me,” he said finally. “We'll find a home for you, I'm sure we will.” He said it confidently, but he had great doubts as to how he could help her.

  A rumbling shook the house, and bits of plaster fell from the ceiling. Ghost Doll and Jasper fled to the doorway.

  “What's that?” called Ghost Doll.

  “The crane with the demolition ball on it, I'd say,” replied Jasper. “Look, we'll have to go now before all the dust and dirt starts flying.”

  He dashed out the door into the street, Ghost Doll close behind him. As they raced up the road Ghost Doll saw the monster machines come growling towards them. She had never seen anything so frightening before. They were trucks of some kind, but they were so big, and their huge tires crushed things as they rolled over them: old tins, a wooden box, a broken chair that lay on its side, and even a couple of bricks that had fallen from someone's garden wall. It seemed as if these mechanical giants would eat everything in their path. Jasper was several feet ahead of her already. Ghost Doll realized there was nothing for her here now.

  “Hang on!” she called. “Wait, I'm coming!”

  The two disappeared around the corner before the great ball made its first blow.

  Chapter 4

  Come, Dog,” said the tall, thin man. His bald head was covered by a black felt hat, and a long scarf was wound around his scrawny neck. “Let's go hunting for stardust.” The metal dog followed behind his master on caterpillar tracks, crawled down the stairs, and zoomed out the front door. The man had a black box slung from one shoulder. He pulled the door shut behind them. A small brass plate had a name engraved on it: Dr. J. Borsch—scientist and inventor. As the man moved away from the house, followed closely by the dog, he took the box in both hands, pu
lled an antenna out from the top, and turned several knobs on the side. The box let out a series of squeaks and crackles. Dr. Borsch adjusted the settings until the box began to emit a low, steady hum.

  “Okay, Dog, I've got the location. Let's go.” Scientist and creature went straight down the street, passing closed doors and curtained windows. The sun had only just risen and most people were still snuggled under blankets and quilts, sleeping soundly.

  “We need to get over to the East Side before the demolition starts,” said Dr. Borsch.

  They strode across the intersection, ignoring the “No Walk” sign. Once or twice the pair passed someone opening a store, sweeping away the trash on the sidewalk from the day before. Smells of baked goods wafted over them. Dog lifted his metal nose to inhale the enticing aromas. Although most of him was made of metal, there was still enough living dog left to enjoy the idea of hot sausage rolls, cream buns, and freshly baked bread.

  Dr. Borsch, on the other hand, acted as though he had no stomach and no taste buds, and certainly his nose didn't twitch and breathe in the lovely scents.

  Having crossed the middle line cutting the city into the old East Side and the prosperous and bustling West Side, Dr. Borsch slipped into a maze of old brick warehouses and shabby homes joined together in long, drab rows. The sun, steadily raising its rosy face over the city, struggled to shed light down the cold, dark alleyways. Shadows lay deep between the looming buildings.

  Something large and black ran across their path. Dog's head jerked up—a rat! He let out the whoop of his hunting call and would have raced after it if his master hadn't halted him with a stern command: “Stop! Heel, Dog. Leave it alone.”