Chapter 1 All Hallows' Eve Do you remember your first Ghastly Night? The first time you saw Eerie-on-Sea's special Halloween show? The first time you gathered on the pier with your friends and family and huddled in the cold night air--and the glow of the manglewick candles--as you waited for the magic to begin? Perhaps you were carried there on your dad's shoulders, caramel apple in one hand, sparkler in the other? Or perhaps you peeked from snug inside your mum's coat as the puppet master lit the lantern. Remember how you blinked in the beam of eerie light? Remember how the strange fumes tickled your nose? Remember how you gasped in wonder as the showman's hands conjured puppets of shadow--forms and phantasmagoria that crept and capered and danced above you in the smoky autumn air? And did you see it? Did you catch a glimpse of that extra shadow--one not made by the skillful showman's fingers? A shadow not cast by anything at all? A crooked figure, cavorting in dark delight at the edge of the lantern's beam, never--when you turned to look--quite where you thought it was, but always there, hunting, tormenting, snatching the showman's shadow puppets one by one till the show was ended. And the smoke curled away to nothing. And all the shadows were gone. And no sound remained but the hiss of the lantern and the creak of the pier and the churn of the endless sea. Well? Do you remember? Did you ever see the Shadowghast? But what am I saying? Of course you didn't! You've probably never even heard of Ghastly Night, or manglewick candles, or any of it. Unless, that is, you've been to Eerie-on-Sea before, and asked too many questions. But even then, I'm sure you'd have forgotten this strange tradition of ours, falling as it does on the night the rest of the world knows as Halloween.

Like most people at this time of year, you're probably too busy carving pumpkins or planning your trick-or-treat costume to pay much attention to the funny old ways of a little seaside town. Too busy make-believing in goblins and ghosts to worry about the one legend of a bad spirit that might actually be true. And that's fine. For you. But if you lived in Eerie, you'd see it differently. If you stayed behind when the summer tourists left, and the candy-colored signs of seaside fun faded into the dark of winter, you'd know. You, too, would hurry a little faster through the blustery streets as the days grew shorter and the shadows long. And when the end of October finally arrived, you'd put up a manglewick candle for protection, too.

Just in case. Just in case this is the year that Ghastly Night is forgotten and no showman lights a lantern on the pier to conjure shadow puppets in offering to the dark. For if that should ever happen, so folks say, the Shadowghast--enraged by the insult--would hunt instead for the shadows of the living. But I see you're smiling. You're still thinking the Shadowghast is nothing more than a silly superstition. No more than a trick of the light. Only, remember this: at the heart of every legend is a spark of truth. And when the sunlight dies and you're running from the shadows through the deepening streets of Eerie-on-Sea, a spark--no matter how small--is sometimes all you need.

Unless that trick of the light is actually a trick of the dark.