Happy Halloween!
Ghost Story
Mom, Dad, Robby, and Sandra gathered
around the campfire. The orange and blue flames crackled beneath the thick
marine fog that shielded them from the outside world. It was the last night of
their vacation, and they had to get an early morning start for home, the next
day. So after the marshmallows had been roasted and consumed and snuggles had
been shared all around, the children were ordered to bed. Each child begged their
dad to tell one of his famous ghost stories before they retired.
“Not tonight,” mom said, after
watching dad roll his eyes.
“Awww!” Came the chorus of
disappointment from the kids.
“Hey, Dad! What is that smell?”
Sandra asked, stalling, but wrinkling her nose at the putrid stench.
“Smells like someone forgot to close
off their sewage hose. Now, get to bed. I’ll be there in a minute to kiss you good night.”
The children sulked up the steps and
into the trailer. The water came on in the bathroom, the toilet flushed two
times, and the sibling spats began.
“Robby, stop pinching me,” Sandra
groaned.
“I didn't…” Robby snapped.
"But dad, Robby...,"
Sandra complained.
“Get in bed,” mom interrupted from
her place at the bonfire. Dad stood, and after stirring the embers, he entered
the trailer.
“Bed, both of you,” dad said,
kissing each child on the forehead. He tucked the blankets in around them
tightly. Dad turned off the lights and waited a moment. When he was satisfied,
they’d settled in, and their breathing
had become rhythmic, he crept back out to the fire.
“Sandra tried to tell me someone
pinched her and that Robby was nowhere near her," dad laughed. "But
she's right. The mixture of salt air and sewage smells like death!” dad said,
sitting back in his camp chair, lighting a cigar. He blew out the smoke slowly,
letting it mask the foul air. Mom handed him an open bottle of beer.
They sat back enjoying the rumble of
the ocean in the distance and the crackling of the fire. Dad had just started
to relax when the giggling and stomping began. The trailer rocked and shrieks
of laughter pierced the quiet of the night. “They were asleep, I swear!” dad
grumbled, standing. He doubled his fist and pounded loudly on the exterior of
the trailer. The noise ceased.
No sooner had he relaxed in his
chair, than the giggling returned. Dad sighed loudly, “If I didn’t know better,
I’d say that sounded like the kids from next door.” Dad glanced in mom's
direction.
“We haven’t seen them for three
days. I heard they went to visit an aunt. Maybe, Sandra is right, and we have a
ghost,” mom smirked as dad tossed the half-smoked cigar into the flames and
stood. He looked over his shoulder and grinned.
“Here I come! You’d better get into
bed! Any kid making noise is going to feel my wrath!” he growled a guttural,
spooky, sound deep in his throat as he threw open the door. Dad clomped up the
steps loudly, and then stomped through the trailer dragging a foot. He peered
behind the curtain to see that the children were fast asleep in their beds. His
spooky story evaporated from his mind as he wrinkled his brow and rubbed his
chin, perplexed. A childish snicker broke the silence behind him, and someone
cleared their throat. Dad spun his breath catching as he searched the dark with
his eyes open wide. No one was there.
"That had to be Helen, teasing
me," Dad muttered, turning to leave the trailer he walked through a spot
of frigid air. "Burr!" he said, rubbing his arms. He reached for his
beer, taking a big gulp and swallowing hard, he burped up foam.
Mom looked up with a grin, "Did you settle them down?" she asked.
"You know they were sound asleep," Dad whispered, glaring at Helen. "You followed me inside and giggled."
"What? I did not," Helen
insisted. Dad stared.
"You didn't follow me inside
and snicker!" he said, wiping perspiration from his brow and staring into
mom's eyes. She shook her head. "Then what did we hear? Cause those kids
are asleep," dad said, raising his eyebrows. Helen shook her head and
shivered.
The next morning, the family awoke
to flashing blue lights and police cars surrounding the trailer next door. The
door was forced open and inside lay the three children and their father --
dead.
No comments:
Post a Comment