Supernatural Non-Fiction posted September 3, 2021

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450 word true ghost story


by AliMom

We'd lived in the house on 169th street for about six months. It was an ordinary A-frame with red and white awnings and it took a while to settle in because we were from the city. One would have thought the absence of sirens, horns, and gunshots would be restful. It was not. It was creepy and strange.

Our family was having dinner one evening during a terrific thunderstorm when a door in 'back of the house inexplicably banged open. I volunteered to check it. I was tired of being labeled 'scaredy-cat'. I peered into the shadowy kitchen doorway from the lighted dining room. Half satisfied there was nothing there, I groped around the kitchen doorway for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing. I took a deep breath and grabbed a large knife from the kitchen drawer. It didn't seem the sort of night for crazed, serial killer, maniacs to be on the loose. It was pouring out. Bu-u-t, you never know.

I cautiously eased across the kitchen to the opposite doorway next to the dark upstairs and downstairs and yanked open the door. I paused to listen, certain that something was waiting to grab me. Still, nothing.

Emboldened by my older brother's cat-calls from the dining room, I pushed forward to the top of the basement stairs. The screen door had blown open causing the inner storm door to flap open and shut. Shakily, I extended my arm, pulled the screen door shut, and latched it firmly. I closed and latched the storm door. "The wind," I thought, exhaling.

I headed back to the dining room with the bravado only a seven-year-old can muster, secured the kitchen door, replaced the knife, turned off the light, and smilingly informed the rest of the family that the house was secure.

As I sat, a serving tray flew off the back of the refrigerator clattering noisily to the floor. The kitchen door quickly opened and shut and we heard the sound of footsteps climbing rapidly up the stairs, through the rooms over our heads, and into our attic where they suddenly went silent.
We stared open-mouthed at each other.

"What was that?" Mom said.

My older brother, Ricky, said, "It's Tom!"

"Tom, who?"

"Tom, our ghost", he said smiling mischievously.

"Whoever he is, he'd better stay out of those boxes upstairs!" We laughed nervously. Nobody checked. We finished our dinner, speculated on our new guest, and the rest of the evening passed without incident. I'd like to say the story ended there. It did not. Tom wasn't through with us. We have no clue what brought him there or kept him there but he stayed and others came.

Supernatural Story Contest writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
Write a supernatural story on an event that is fiction, non-fiction, or a combination of both. The minimum word length is 300 words with a maximum length of 450 words. I picture may included that has no animation, music, or words on it. Author notes may include 1 video. A dedication line may be included which doesn't count in total word length.

The best ghost stories are the ones that are true. The very best stories are the ones told by an eyewitness. My family lived in a perfectly ordinary house that happened to be haunted. We kids began calling it 'spook central' we had so many visitors. Tom was our first.

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by aryaman at

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