Believer, Fiction

“Do you believe in ghosts?” the woman asked the man at the bar. Everyone wore Halloween costumes.

“No, I don’t think I do,” he replied. “You?”

She smiled. “I died in a fire in 1913.” Her face morphed; flesh bubbled and burned.

He dropped his drink and ran like hell.

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Eviction Day, Fiction

Whenever she goes into the attic, my daughter finds something new. A tortured letter. A broken bottle. A bullet. A skull. There’s a ghost living in our home. She thinks it’s fun, but I don’t. I found a cardboard box, packed up the ghost’s things, and buried them out back.

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Oct 14, 2022·edited Oct 25, 2022Liked by Justin Deming

Anticlimax - Fiction

The book was enormously successful. A brilliant first work, they said. Such dazzling prose! She wasn’t as gratified as she’d hoped to be. His name was on the cover, not hers. She had agreed to the contract, of course. She just hadn’t anticipated how insignificant a ghost writer would feel. - Sharron at 🍁Leaves

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Oct 14, 2022·edited Oct 14, 2022Liked by Justin Deming

Flop Sweat - Fiction

They met for the first time today. He rattled on about his family, his work, his favorite films. About his motorcycle adventures, his trip to Jamaica. He was so nervous, he totally forgot to say, “Tell me about yourself.” He doesn’t have a ghost of a chance with her. - Sharron at 🍁Leaves

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Un-boo-lievable - Fiction

A ghost walks into a bar.

“We don’t serve spirits here,” the bartender says.

“I’ll just have water,” the ghost says.

“No, I mean we don’t serve ghosts, specters, apparitions or phantoms.”

“In that case, I’ll have a martini.”

“You’re drunk already.”

“No, I’m only two sheets to the wind.”

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Timmy - Fiction*

I’m sitting alone at home when the bathroom door slams of its own accord. Walking down the hallway, I step in a puddle of water that came from nowhere.

It should be scary, but something tells me not to worry. It’s just Timmy, our friendly and sometimes rambunctious house ghost.

*based on a true story that happened to my sister.

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The Same Old Thing - Fiction

Arthur was stuck in a rut. He hated working the night shift. He hated doing the same thing every night.

His old pal, Wilbur saw him and said, “I heard you had a big scare last night.”

“Yup. I’ve had enough. I’m retiring.”

“Ghosts can’t retire.”

“Then I’ll fade away.”

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Oct 15, 2022Liked by Justin Deming

“Do you believe in ghosts?” my grandmother asked.

Noni had always been the only adult who I could really talk to. She didn’t judge. She listened. She treated me like someone worth talking to.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Yes you do,” she said.

She smiled.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

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One would have to hope there is a LOT of money in ghost writing. Can't see any other point.

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All of these are very creative! Love ‘em!

I don’t have strong wifi here at my temporary home (my brothers house) but I might whip out the laptop and see if I have a ghost of a chance (see what I did there) with writing a story.

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