Were they ghosts? #haunted #horror #shortstory

Gloria Penelope

This is the continuation of a short narrative; whenever the boy glanced at that house, he saw things from the distance.  He even saw an elderly woman who had died quite some time ago, and children playing.  #hauntedhouse #ghosthouse #sacrythings #horrorstories

Transcript

00:00I stared at that old house, watching smoke curl from its chimney while laughter echoed in the yard. It always seemed so real to me.

00:10Children darted between trees. An elderly woman leaned from the porch, her shawl fluttering. Familiar faces, so vivid, waved at me daily.

00:21There was a boy my age exactly. He grinned, beckoning with a wave, inviting me to join their games like he always did.

00:32Something in my heart tugged. Despite what others said, their presence never faded. Hadn't I seen the children's hands in the window just now?

00:44Curiosity brimming, I asked my father again about who lived in that house and whether kids my age were there.

00:51My father sighed deeply, sadness brushing his words. He recounted the family once living there, parents, three kids, and a grandmother.

01:02He reminded me that their oldest son had once been my best friend. I remembered our laughter and shared secrets, sharp as yesterday.

01:11But then, quietly, my father explained to me that the house was empty now. The whole family died long ago in a plain tragedy.

01:23Yet, each time I passed that house, I saw them. Smilling, playing, and the hum of life ghosting behind those ancient, well-loved walls.

01:32Was it ghosts? Or memory, grief, or something beyond all? The border between what's gone and what remains grows thin in my heart.

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