The Ghoul of Christmas Past

put his head down and pushed his pace. His body, especially his joints, would demand payment later, but for now it answered the rally cry. Going around the hoarding, Michael almost ran straight into a couple pushing a baby in a stroller.
Screams lit the air as the mother reacted in shock. She wasn’t alone though as her scream made everyone else look her way. What they saw was two crazy men running down the street holding weapons.
Michael hurried on, trying to track the ghoul as it ran through the hoarding. Judging the echoes, it was ahead of them, but they were catching it. Ten yards in front, the giant thing burst back into sight as it reached the end of the covered walkway, but by then it was almost at the end of the High Street and was coming into the open. Everyone would see it now and there would be no way for the ghoul to outrun the police when they arrived.
The sirens were drawing closer, giving Michael reassurance that this would be done soon but also convincing him to push harder now to close the distance and corner the ghoul. He hadn’t run like this in years and was feeling it everywhere as his body demanded he stop.
The ghoul reached the end of the High Street and ran straight across the junction leading from the esplanade onto the bridge. Horns blasted as cars screeched to a stop and pedestrians on the bridge screamed at the horror headed their way. But the ghoul didn’t go for the bridge, he went left, straight for the wall bordering the river. There, right in front of Michael’s disbelieving eyes, the ghoul leapt the wall in a single bound and vanished into the blackness beyond.
Though he stumbled slightly in his surprise, Michael carried on until he reached the wall. He and Frank both heard the splash before they got there, slamming into the ancient stone to peer over the top of the five-foot-high structure. Light reflecting from the bridge allowed them to see where the ghoul had entered the water but there was no sign that it had surfaced.
‘Put the weapons down!’
The loud voice came from behind, pulling their focus away from the water where they discovered half a dozen cops now staring at them. They were not armed with anything other than batons, but most likely had an armed squad of reinforcements inbound to their location. Michael realised it was their shouts he heard when he and Frank left the alley and the officers had been chasing him ever since. Had they even seen the ghoul?
Michael opened his mouth to say he would of course put his weapon down now the danger had passed, but no sooner did he open his mouth than another of the cops spoke. ‘My lord, it’s him again. And this time he’s got an axe.’
It was Gaz, the cop from earlier who got so excited about the pocketknife Michael always carried.
‘What about the ghoul?’ Michael asked. ‘You saw us chasing it right?’
Gaz had his cuffs out already. ‘I saw two crazy men scaring people with weapons. That’s affray at the very minimum.’
Frank spun the knives so they were pointing blade in and lowered them to the street. Michael crouched also, feeling a twinge in his back as he tried to get up again. They both had their hands raised as the cops moved in and now that he had time to gather himself and look around, he saw the sea of terrified faces all looking his way as if he were the source of danger.
Just before the police officers reached them, Michael asked Frank a question, ‘This ever happen to you before?’
Frank nodded, looking bored. ‘Yes. This is where we get arrested.’

Waste of an Evening. Saturday, December 24th 2157hrs
When they came to get him from his cell, Michael Michaels was surprised at how little time had passed. A monosyllabic constable in uniform let him out. The man was in his late thirties and doughy around his middle. He was efficient though, and perhaps the lack of conversation was part of the job.
The officer led Michael to an interview room where two more officers were waiting. He recognised neither but they stood as he came in and introduced themselves as sergeants Musgrove and Williams. He was invited to sit, and they went through the preliminaries of setting up the interview for the sake of the recording equipment.
Michael waited, somewhat impatiently for them to finish, then went on the offensive. ‘Am I to be charged with something?’ he demanded to know.
‘You certainly could be,’ answered Sergeant Williams, a stern-looking man with his grey hair parted to the left side of his head. He had steel-blue eyes that imparted an unspoken threat, and they didn’t blink as he tried to stare Michael Michaels down.
‘That’s a no then, isn’t it,’ Michael concluded. ‘I interrupted what looked like a kidnapping and gave chase. You’ve already confirmed the latter part of that from eyewitnesses though, haven’t you? Why don’t we skip to the end of this and you let me out with a warning to not run through the streets with an axe. Then I can get back to my wife and salvage what is left of Christmas Eve. How does that sound?’
As if ignoring that Michael had spoken, Sergeant Williams gave him a piercing stare and asked, ‘Where did you get the axe?’
Michael certainly wasn’t going to point the finger at Frank. ‘It was to hand,’ he replied.
Still refusing to blink, Sergeant Williams growled, ‘I could charge you with affray.’
‘But you already decided not to because you believe that I was a well-intentioned bystander who ran to the aid of a person in trouble. Did you catch the man in the van, by the way?’
Sergeant Musgrove shot his partner a look and sat forward in his chair.