Monday, 15 July 2013

A Ghost Story

Like all good ghosts, this one decided to get in bed with us as the sun came shining through the curtains.

Neither of us said anything. I went down and made coffee.

Then I dialled a wrong number. The voice at the other end was warm and friendly enough to make me wish that it had been the right number.

I went back upstairs carrying the coffee jug and two mugs. There is a limit to my hospitality.

My wife was reading a novel. This was a new thing for her.

I got back into the bed, the ghost lying between us.

My wife put down her book. She started to tell me about the old house in Wales that she lived in a long time ago.

She said that there were lots of old houses in Wales. This particular one had a door that wouldn't stay closed. Her boyfriend of the time nailed it shut with six inch nails.

Sometimes they heard voices, footsteps in the night.

When they came down in the morning, the door was open again.

It had gone quiet now. A peculiar, greenish light came through the window.

My wife picked up her book again.

I sipped at my coffee and pictured the door, the nails hanging out like horrible teeth.

The ghost said nothing.


  1. Your tone is great, I like the details. Boring yet creepy. The phone call pins it, vital.

    1. Thanks Susan. You're right about that phone call. I hadn't spotted it at the time.



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