by E.F. Olsson
It’s a one room schoolhouse built in the early 1800’s. The history of the area is filled with violence and death. A ghost roams the grounds at night searching for the man who killed him. That’s what the ghost hunting group told us at least.
Why do I find myself sitting here, in the dark, in the middle of this creepy old schoolhouse? For the blonde sitting next to me. This is her idea for a good time.
Wait. What was that? A hand grabbed my leg. It wasn’t hers.
I screamed like a baby!
There goes the second date.
Copyright © 2015 E.F. Olsson. All rights reserved.
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