The Bugler

Heh-Heh, hello again FIENDS, it is I, CREEPS, again, with yet another HEARTWORMING TERROR-TALE Ha-Ha.  This REVOLTING-REALIZATION, I EERILY-ENTITLE...
Back in spring, 1882, in Virginia, there was the noise of a bugle being blown up, on a distant-hill, as wind blew slightly across an old battlefield.  An elderly lady opened her backdoor, peeking out of her cottage into her backyard which was the old battlefield.  She went over to the cast-iron stove and stirred a pot of tomato soup.  A young man came to the backdoor, knocking on it.  "Howdy ma'am" he called, seeing the elderly lady.  "Howdy, young man, how may I help y'all?" the old woman asked him, turning around.  "Yes ma'am, I need some fresh water for my small family please!" the young man answered with a grin.  "Why, yes young man.  Let me get it for y'all" the elderly lady said.  She gave him a big jar and said, "here is water young man".  "Thank y'all ma'am" he said.  It was getting dark and the young man looked out the open-door, hearing the sound of the bugle being blown again.  "Do y'all hear that ma'am?" he asked the old woman.  "Why, yes.  That is my late husband's ghost.  He was a bugler in the Civil War twenty years ago, and was blown up by a cannon" she explained.  "My honest apologies ma'am" the young man said.  "Why, thank you, young man" she replied, smiling.  The sound of the bugle got much closer suddenly and footsteps approached the cottage from the old battlefield.  The young man poked his head out of the open-door, not seeing anyone in the darkness of twilight.  A figure finally became visible on the old battlefield.  It was that of a man, and he was coming towards the cottage.  "Hello sir?" the young man called to the figure.  The figure came to the cottage, dressed in a confederate uniform which eerily glowed-white, the figure's flesh was dark and transparent.  The figure was the ghost of the bugler and he had eyes white, glowing away in the approaching evening, along with a shining-white mustache and hair.  "Howdy, young fellow, welcome to m'old cottage here, where m'wife still lives!" the phantom of the bugler replied.  He rose an old cracked gold-bugle to his ghostly-lips blew into it again, and then red slime dripped and leaked out of his mouth, as he crept along slowly.  The specter's ghostly-head twisted around with the sounds of jerks and cracks, and he grinned at the young man, as the slime continued to ooze out.  
Heh-Heh, well, that ending was sure a PAIN IN THE NECK!  Talk about the SPIRIT OF WAR hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!