Ghost stories had never moved me. Broken sleep was due to a troubled mind, the creaking doors – a sea breeze rattling through a draughty house.
Why won’t you admit there’s something about the place? my dark-eyed neighbour sounded impressed.
I laughed. But in truth I was afraid.
(278 characters)
Welcome back to another week of ghostly tweet-sized story telling. A new installment of 280 characters or less will be published at 7.30, every morning and evening between now and Friday. You can read it as one continuous story here.
kirstwrites 