A Short Story Of A Ghost Story

VROOM! The bus goes when the engine starts and drives to school. Ugh! The thought of going to school again and beginning the 2nd grade in Maurice Hawk School. EH. I wasn’t so nervous because I had the same class as my friends. I know my teacher was so nice to me in 2nd grade, because basically all elementary school teachers are really nice to kids like me. Her name was Mrs. Ramirez. I had to run to different classes during that class like speech or just different subjects because I hate the thought of being late. When is was time for speech, my teacher picked my classmate and I up because we forgot to come to class. I know I just said that I hate the thought of being late, but hold your horses! It was only the first day! Give me a break! But anyways, while we were walking slowly and calmly in the hall, we started

Emmeric smelled smoke. He had been enjoying his barley porridge during his break with his younger sister, Emelnie, when he realized something was wrong. He rushed to look out the window of their small home to see where the smoke was coming from. His father’s crops were on fire! Emmeric told his sister to stay put while he went outside to find his father. That was when he saw a large, golden creature surveying the rest of the farm. Emmeric quickly realized that the beast was the cause of the fire. He recognized the scaly creature from stories told by merchant’s from out west. It was a Sunborne, the rarest dragon in Meplioca, Emmeric’s home

The sun broke through the grey and breathed life into the awakening city. The woman’s eyes though opened, were empty and moved accordingly to the flock of doves that soared through the chilled air. She gazed at the beautifully choreographed dance above where delicate wings formed prominent silhouettes against the comforting rays. The ancient apple tree which only last month was a mess of unruly twigs and withered leaves had now flourish into a bounty of lively red apples that heralded the Springtime. The richness of the sanctuary generated distant and painful memories in her head like the scenes of a tragic movie. She could still picture the remorseful look in the man’s eyes during his last breath. Her father, a man of ambitions and responsibilities, was not the father to throw her into the sky and tell her how much he loved

Sadness, desperation, and the thought of failure plagued my brain as I went into my second day of Sophomore year in high school. I had grown to dislike school a lot as it felt like all the fun I used to have was slowing diminishing into nothing. As I walked to my next class, I looked down to make sure I had the right room number. I did, it was time for English which I was not looking forward to. But, to my surprise, this English class would change everything

My eyes shoot open. Is it here. What is it doing here. I look around. I see the jet black ceiling above me. My palms and forehead are dripping with sweat. It’s just a dream, I was just dreaming. I tell myself. Once I find my bearings, I look at my digital clock. The blue dashes on the gray and white clock say that it’s 2:37 in the morning. I had the dream again. My chest is aching. I lay on my side staring at the light that is emitted from the lamp. After a short time, I sigh and roll over back into my warm and soft camo covered comforter. It’s too early to get up. I think to myself.

The lifeless light bulbs slowly swayed from the ceiling as I peered down the dim hallway. There it was. The window. The window that always framed the most picture perfect family. Outside, were the children with the most infectious smiles, skipping and dancing down their street. Their parents, beside them were both watching them hand in hand laughing and singing along. They seemed to be filled with for their two beloved children. My eyes followed their footsteps and my teeth clenched as I watched them - I hated it. “Not everyone is as lucky as you”, I muttered under my breath. I continued to watch them until

Then, as the last girl passed through, everyone went back to their places. I sucked in a rasped breath as I pushed the red, thick steel lunch room doors. With my hair covering the front of my face like a funeral veil, I examined the hard, smooth marble floors as I shuffled through the sea of shoes until I reached the wall. A hush fell over the crowd as the principal came strolling in. He started giving a speech about the school dance this Friday, yet I drowned him out. Today was January twenty-seventh, Stella’s birthday. I could not hold it in anymore as I sank against the wall, silently letting all the sorrow and despair flow out of me. Two pink sneakers came to rest on the glazed marble floors. “Well, do you not want to join us?” questioned a clipped, sickly sweet voice. Willing myself to raise my head, I slowly brought my eyes up. She was wearing a short checkered skirt with a navy blue collared shirt. I met the girl’s eyes. A shocking electric blue. “Well, are you going to answer me or not?” she asked again. “Um...sure…” I replied, mesmerized by the amount of makeup the girl had on. I felt hands on my shoulders as her crew pulled me to my feet. I stared at the floor the whole time until I reached the designated “popular”

“It happened long ago in my days of youth, a tale so bizarre, it was as if history itself tried to hide it from the world. Yet those events etched into my heart deeper than I could ever forget, even if I were the only one left who remembers.” A wrinkled, yet sweet and endearing, hand stretches out to touch a young child’s face. A face of innocence to world. The candle that flickered in the room grew strong against the night sky that pierced the windows.

The July 20, 2015 edition of The New Yorker magazine, contains short story “Ghosts and Empties”. The name of which drew me in. Typically when you hear such a title, you gear yourself in the direction of a mystery, suspense, or even a thriller. I was pleasantly surprised when the story took a different turn than I was expecting. The story follows an unnamed narrator on her nightly walks through her neighborhood. As I read the story “Ghosts and Empties”, many thoughts passed through my head. I thought of how vividly everything was portrayed, the pace at which the sentence structure proceeded, or for much better explanation, why I chose to take the walk with the narrator.

Frist let’s start with the houses, two houses in fact, one made out of straw and one made out of sticks. Both terribly built no structure, no proper design and the garden looked terrible, in fact it looked like a pig sty, see what I did there. But anyway as you now I have morning allergies and as soon as I walked up to that straw house and I snuffled and I sniffed and then came out a huge sneeze, it blew the whole house down and the same thing happened for the house made out of sticks. I couldn’t help myself I just couldn’t hold that sneeze back, and how is it my fault that I blew the house down isn’t a wolf allowed to sneeze and just think about it, it was a house made out of straw, so how could this possibly be my fault.

Jenna started her dream of the Ghost Tree again like the other dreams but this one was different. In the dream Amy was gone and her father was sitting with her. He was pointing to a boy across from her. It was Michael MacKenzie. He looked terrified. He wasn't trying to talk to her, he had his knees curled up and his arms around them just like the nights she saw him at the church steps. Jenna got up and went to sit next to him. She didn’t say anything but gave him a hug. She knew that he had felt so bad for what he did. She told him it was going to be

It took weeks of convincing and reassuring that everything was going to be just fine before I budged. I did not agree because I suddenly was not scared, I felt guilty that we would not go on my accord. So here I was, hours away from hopping on the thing I promised myself I would never get on.I closed my eyes and to my surprise fell asleep. I was asleep for what felt like all of five minutes.I was woke up by a distant car horn, I looked ahead and saw the blurry light turned from red to green, we hung a left. I read the big blue print on the concrete sign,” Roanoke Airport,” We were finally here. I heard a low roar that seemed distant, but it grew louder with the passing seconds.Then a huge plane soared over top of us! The fear gather back inside

As I sat alone in my bedroom listened to the rains pitter patter on my roof I thought about my childhood alongside my sister Myrtle. We grew up next to the cows and horses in the dirt fields and like every other girl, my sister dreamed of her prince to one day find her, and sweep her off to a castle of their own. Every day Myrtle started off with one piece of toast cut into two triangles, reading her comics to me, while drinking a glass of orange juice. Both of our parents shared the kitchen with

The tip of the fluffy, light brown tail disappeared around the corner. I gave chase. My paws pounded on the hard ground, scattering pebbles, and the wind ruffling my fur made me feel like I was flying. I was gaining on it. If I could reach it before he reached the grove of trees…

“In the year of 1989, there was a street named Elm, in the state of Wyoming. Few chose to live on that street, and they all knew about the haunted house, up on the hill, on the west side of town, coming off of Elm. Once, I spent the week with some friends and, Halloween came upon us, while I stayed with them.” I was telling my first-grade brother and his friends stories to scare them out of their wits. Besides, no one wants little kids tagging along with you to go trick or treating, when you could go with your friends to Haunted Houses, and not ones set up by the town hall. “We were just about to pass the house, not thinking anything of it, when we heard a moan coming from Old Man Reaper’s house.” Their eyes grew wide with fear. Mr. G.