Tag Archives: ghost story

Last Dance

I bought the place sight unseen: two bedrooms, one bath, no neighbors. I bought it for the quiet–a place to be alone.

First it was the radio: an old Glenn Miller tune.

Then it was footsteps overhead, a rhythmic step and slide.

I crept upstairs. A shadow crossed the sliver of light underneath the bedroom door.

But when I opened it, nothing was there.


‘Til death

My mother doesn’t believe me. How I see you at night in that instant before my eyes adjust to the dark. I didn’t open the window. I didn’t move that chair.

“Don’t leave me,” I had begged, graveside. It is just like you, you bastard, to listen this time.