The Ghost Story

The truth can be a frightening thing

The trick to any good story is to base it on at least a little bit of truth. That goes double for ghost stories.

The girls were in their pajamas, half tucked into their sleeping bags, in a semicircle around my chair. My face was lit from below and all they could see was my chin and cheekbones and eyes.

"It was not a dark and stormy night," I began. "It was a clear, warm night, just like it is right now. No graveyards, no ghouls. Just a group of kids trying to stay up all night."

"Were they having a sleepover, too?" asked Mila.

"Why yes, Mila. They were having a sleepover."

"Like us?"

"Oh, very much like you..." I added a sinister snicker for effect, and she shrank a little further into her sleeping bag.

"What... what was so scary about a warm night, Mr. Volovich?"

"It was the night they saw a ghost, and they didn't even know it. It was the night they learned that you may never know when you are in the presence of something from... beyond... Mwahahahaaaa!"

The girls gasped, looking around, asking each other if they thought there were ghosts in the room right then.

Molly called from the dining room, "Okay, girls, time to stop the chatter. I'll put on the TV, but no scary movies!" She returned to her phone conversation: "Halloween or not, I don't want a hoard of grade-schoolers hopped up on sugary candy whimpering all night about some boogeyman." She paused, listening.

The she sighed and said, "Yeah, Gail, I guess I am feeling a little lonely. I sure wish Mr. Volovich next door hadn't died last week. He was good company, and he would have enjoyed this."

She was right. I enjoyed it very much, indeed.

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the words ghost, candy, trick