Feb 21
fiction challenge: Ghosts
Summit House-WCS's picture

They Were Stuck

Deep down in a dark forest there is a small dirty and runned down graveyard big enough to hold three ghosts. There is a garden that is alive and well with a water pot that always somehow has water in it. Agatha, a grumpy grandmother who died in 1843 was a baker. Agatha always rises first in the late night of 11:25 p.m and wakes all the other ghosts. She wakes them up by watering the flowers and clanging the water pot against a tree. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG. “Agatha stop! We are trying to sleep and you are not helping.” Loretta would yell. Loretta was the youngest of the few and died in 1852. She was a hard working cook for the Walters family. Will she ever stop? Thought Loretta until she would avert herself away from the clanging. CLANG, CLAND, CLA-

Delilah, the middle of the group, died in 1846. She was an assertive brave woman who made clothes. “If you don’t stop right now I might actually get lethal with you Agatha.”

Delilah threatened Agatha while holding the water pan tightly in her hand in front of the tree.  “Perfect. At least I got one up,” Agatha grumpily replied, “ugh… now we have Loretta.” “I’ll get the onions!” Delilah jumped up with happiness. “N-no, i-it’s okay i’ll get up!” Loretta would say cautiously because she hated onions so much that so much as saying the word made her skin crawl. Agatha rolled her eyes, “We have to start heading to the town so we can get some fun in.” “OOH yes.” chanted Delilah and Loretta out loud. Haunting people that weren’t nice to them was fun, but finding your family was funner because then they could see them again. All their family were dead but they didn’t know where to find the three girls so the three girls had no choice but to search during the haunting season which only came every two years and stayed for one month. C-R-A-C-K “What was that?” whispered Loretta. “I’m not sure. Maybe a human?” whispered Delilah back. “Quit whispering and get in your graves!” snapped Agatha.  “Who is out there?” yelled a small teen girl. The teen girl walked closer and saw the graves and sat down. “Agatha Wilson… 1801 to 1843..” The teen girl left but the ghosts couldn’t rise again. They were stuck.