Midnight, and the whispers begin.

I sigh, twirling my pen. The spirits'll want out again. Today, leaving alone All Hallow's Eve, is the one day of the year that the spirits get restless. 

On All Hallow's Eve (what the mortals foolishly refer to as Hallow'een), it's allowed - advised even - for the spirits to rise into the mortal world. After all, that's why they get antsy. All Hallow's Eve is the one night where the veil between the worlds thins and they can enter the mortal world and scare the pesky creatures. That's the one night that they can feed off of the living.

But today is not All Hallow's Eve. Today is... Christmas. A foolish holiday for the foolish mortals. Christmas is about love and presents and the gift of life... or something like that. Being a psychopomp - you may know me by my Greek personality, Charon - means that I'm not exactly up to date with all the new mortal celebrations. 

Regardless of what day it is, I must keep the spirits here. If they venture to the mortal realm, they will regain humanity but in a twisted, deformed way - much like the current mortal obession with a zombie apocalypse. Well, I can't let a zombie apocalypse occur.

Using my 'god voice', I shout, "Calm down!" ... Well, something that can be translated to mean that. Truly, it is those words said in all existing languages all at the same time. The spirits hear the language they know. It means that everyone knows what I'm saying at the same time. "Nobody is going to the mortal realm." Some spirits groan. "This is the sacred holiday they call Christmas. Just because the same energy surge is present now than there is on All Hallow's Eve, does not mean that that day has come!" I say, firmly.

Some newer spirits start crying.

Oh, lord, not again. I roll my eyes, settling down as order is restored. Bored, I begin twirling my pen again.