to bed as soon as you can. Shut your windows and keep them locked. Close the curtains and shut off the lights. Close your eyes, cover your ears and go to sleep as fast as you can. And if you hear a tapping at the window, do not look. Something forces its way in and drops to the floor. Do not look. It crawls along the floor. Do not look. It climbs onto the foot of your bed. Do not look. If you value your life, no matter what, do not look!
Don't Believe in Ghosts
“I don't believe in ghosts,” said Mary.
Dave had spent the past ten minutes on their way home from school telling her about the haunted house in town he had just heard about. Dave was new in town, so everyone took great pleasure in telling him about the house. Mary had heard the stories before and found them all quite boring. This is why, as much as she enjoyed Dave's company, she made no effort not to crush Dave's enthusiasm when he related these stories back to her.
“Not even a little bit?” asked Dave.
“No, Dave, not even a little bit. Everyone makes it all up just because the house looks a little different than the rest.”
“What does it look like?” Dave asked, still eager to learn more about this local oddity.
“Just like any other house,” Mary said, “It's just a little older than the rest. It's been around for a long time.”
“How long?”
“How should I know?”
Dave stopped and stared across the street. They were standing in front of the house he had heard about so much in school. It was covered by faded blue paint and large, dusty windows. The steeply sloped roof rose up in two points at the top of two circular outcroppings. Surrounding the house was an iron fence topped with menacing barbs. Mary snapped her fingers in front of Dave's dumbfounded face.
“Dave! It's just a house.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because there's no such thing as ghosts. Have you ever seen a ghost?”
Dave shuffled his feet. “No, but I haven't seen the wind either.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “That's a poor analogy. Look, I'll prove it to you that it's just a house.”
Mary turned and crossed the street. Dave, not wanting her to go but too scared to move any closer to the house, reached out to her.
“Hey, wait!” Dave called after Mary.
Mary ignored Dave and boldly walked up to the old house. She opened the door and disappeared inside.
“Hey Mom, I'm home!” Mary called out. “I'm going over to a friend's house!”
“Just be back before dark,” Mary's mother called back from somewhere in the house.
Mary left the house and rejoined Dave, who was awestruck at her supposed bravery. After that he stopped listening to the stories and stopped believing in ghosts. Dave and Mary became good friends they were practically inseparable. The rest of the kids at school wondered why Dave spent all of his time alone.
A Familiar House
I could not remember why I was here. The door slammed shut behind me. I looked around. It was dark, but a faint blue light filtered through the curtained windows, illuminating the room. It looked familiar, like I had been here before, but I knew this was not my house. So why was I here?
I was in a living room. A sagging couch sat in front of an old television. On the wall were some photos, but in the dim light I could only make out basic shapes. A clock ticked loudly on the wall ahead of me. I walked over to the television and held my hand against it. No static, did it even work? I tried the dial on its face and nothing happened. The light switch on the wall did nothing as well.
I moved into the adjacent kitchen. A pot of stale water sat on a cold stove. The refrigerator was empty and filled with lukewarm air. On the table in the center of the room sat a bowl of plastic fruit. I tried to open the oven but it would not budge. Nothing for me here I returned to the living room. There was nowhere else to go but up the stairs.
I walked up three steps and hit my head against a wall. The stairs stopped a short way up and the rest of it was a painted surface. There was no second floor. Where was I? Why was I here? I looked around more frantically. The blue light from the windows reflected off the glass of one of the photos hanging on the wall. I picked it up and held it closer to the light to get a better look. At first I thought it was a family photo. A group of people gathered closely together and looking straight at the camera. In the dim blue light I saw that the family had been blended together into a solid mass with five heads. Their faces had been smeared beyond recognition. This was not a real photo. None of them were.
I opened the curtain to see just where I was. Behind the curtain was a solid black wall and a blue-tinted flood light. I dropped the photo and ran for the door. Where was this place? How did I end up here? I had to find out. I wrenched the door open and ran through. I was back in the same living room. I could not remember why I was here. The door slammed shut behind me.
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About the Author
Arnie Lightning is a dreamer. He believes that everyone should dream big and not be afraid to take chances to make their dreams come true. Arnie enjoys writing, reading, doodling, and traveling. In his free time, he likes to play video games and run. Arnie lives in Mississippi where he graduated from The University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, MS.
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