💾 Archived View for spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › stories › quarter.c7 captured on 2023-06-16 at 20:38:21.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
AT MIDNIGHT by Karin Johnson At midnight alone a man walked down a darkened street. "Nothing will hurt me," he said as his heart picked up a beat. The wind was blowing leaves around as he passed the old dark house And the old broken gate in the front was screeching like a mouse. He saw the light in the window, he couldn't believe his eyes! "No," he thought, "It's got to be a prankster in disguise." He'd heard the stories of this old house, and thought them just a lie. But he couldn't help but believe in them as his feet carry him by. Of the old man who used to live in the house, whose ghost follows you home with his light, And kills you without a second thought or a scream in the dark of the night. And then he saw it! The candle moved and started descending the stairs. He started to run, faster and faster pretending that it wasn't there. He got to his house, unlocked the door and looked back as he walked in There was nothing there except for the sound of the ever blowing wind. As he shut the door behind him he breathed a heavy sigh. "How could I be so stupid, so dumb I could almost cry?" As he turned to go upstairs he glanced in the mirror to his right, Behind him in the reflection he saw the glow of a ghostly candlelight.