"You are mine."

His heart quailed again. "You belong to me now," The shadows growled. "Nothing you can do will do can ever break this bond. You are a pet, a slave, a toy on my shelf, a-" "Prove it."

The shadows fell silent amongst the rain. Jingle couldn't tell if it was just because of the rain or if he had nearly wet himself out of terror by now.

There was a long silence. At last, they spoke again. "...what?"

Jingle blinked in the gloom, legs shaking, little toothpicks trying to hold up a nearly full-grown deer. "Prove it. I refuse to belong to you until you give me solid proof. Contract?" His heart was going a million miles now. Hell, what if he does have a contract? Scary spirits don't have contracts... The shadows fell into deep thought for a moment, before releasing a great, exasperated sigh. "Child, this is ineffable. You can't just refuse." "I can and I w-will unless I see a contract, mister."

"I'm a great spirit, I don't write things down. I don't have a little ectoplanner. I don't have a calendar that says 'November First, go get stupid child'. I'm a busy ghost! I have no time for contracts!"

Jingle thought for a moment, and said, reproachfully, "You should invest in a planner, sir."

There was silence. Jingle stood in the rain for a half-hour, waiting for a reply. At last, he caved, turning from the branched trees and heading home. "I hope he buys one with a waterproof cover."