We thought the old house at the end of the block, the one with the gables and dead hedge, was haunted, and that’s why everyone said not to go there. The floors weren’t rotten or anything. So of course we went there all the time, until we were caught. The look in Dad’s eye wasn’t fear. It was guilt.
The challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Flash Fiction 55 is hosted by the G-man, a host with the most.
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