Day 61 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a ghost encounter.
Shannon: I didn’t want to say anything when we got to the tourist lookout point, because I didn’t want to distract my friends from the beautiful view over my rude impulse thoughts. Still, I harbored an uneasy feeling about the guy standing close to the edge of the cliff.
The color of his skin was almost pure white and his veins were prominently showing through his arms. Not only that, but his eyes were ringed with black circles and his mouth revealed some darkness between his lips. The creepiest thing was the way he was he was staring at the people instead of the scenery behind him. Yet everyone was ignoring him, like it was completely normal.
Maybe they could all see he was sick, and I was the messed up one for judging him so harshly. I believed it for a while until I saw him screaming at a little boy. “Get away from the edge,” he shouted into the child’s face and the boy fell back and immediately broke into tears.
“That was harsh,” I finally spoke up to my friends.
They both turned, and quickly looked back at me. Still no terrified reactions. “Did something happen to the kid,” Diana question.
“Yeah, didn’t you hear that man scream at him,” I furrowed my brow. How could they miss it?
“His dad,” Mae questioned.
I shook my head, annoyed. “The guy by the edge,” I pointed and he caught a glimpse of me. Now he was focusing in my direction and I quickly looked away.
“I don’t see anyone but the family,” Diana explained as she looked back again.
I took another look. He was limping toward me now. “The guy walking in our direction, you don’t see him,” my whole body started to burn up as my heart started to race.
“Are you ok,” Mae asked, tugging at my arm.
“I don’t think so,” I shook my head. “We should get away from here,” I stated.
“Stay,” he shouted again, and I would run if I wasn’t paralyzed in fear. If he didn’t exist, where could I truly hide? “I need your help,” his yell turned into a low growl.
Erin: “You know I don’t believe in this mumbo jumbo,” Luke grumbled as he and Rodger stepped into the haunted mansion.
“Well this will just be a fun stroll through a mansion then,” Rodger offered.
“An uneventful stroll,” Luke corrected.
“Do this for me,” Rodger demanded gesturing that for him to move along with his hands.
“Whatever,” they walked in and were greeted by an upbeat employee. He was talking in a deep quite tone, but there was a slight upward tug of his lips. He explained the supposed murdered family that had lived in the home they were about to tour. Then he walked everyone through the floors warning them to avoid touching certain things.
“Now that you have been introduced to our residents, we allow our guests to go mingle with our hosts. Please be respectful of those who live here and we recommend the buddy system,” their guide started chuckling slightly as he strolled away.
“Can we please go now,” Luke grumbled.
“No,” Rodger nearly yelled.
“This place is the biggest hoax possible. Instead of just saying the family is quite today they could at least take time to put effort into tricking us,” Luke complained as he continued to follow Rodger through the halls.
“Would you stop bellyaching so much,” Rodger screamed at the top of his lungs and a statue fell out of the nook in the wall.
“What the hell man,” he took a swing at Rodger but Luke’s arm didn’t make contact it just continued through the air and through his best friend.
“Did you just try to hit my son young man,” Luke immediately fell to the ground as a woman exited the wall from where the statue used to sit.
“This is why I don’t bring friends home mom,” Rodger rolled his eyes. “You know how hard it is to find people who see me. Stop scaring all of them the second they realize who we are.”
“If you’re going to have an attitude feel free to bring it right up to your room,” she placed her hands on her hip. “I will let your friend know he has to come back another time when he wakes up,” she yelled as Rodger forced another statue to fall. The screams of the other humans were beginning to ring through their home.
Writers are the masters of creating people who are not “real,” prove your ability with this prompt.