Sweet Irony

I used to be scared of ghosts when I was a kid. I seemed to be the only one who could sense them masquerading as real people.

I would try to get my parents to listen, but they would just stare at me with a deep mark of concern. Not out of fear, but of sadness.

I soon found myself living in an special boarding school until I was released when I was 23. They said I was finally ready for the outside.

I’m no longer afraid the ghosts I see in public, pretending to be normal people. I realized I have the element of surprise on them.

Right now, I’ve got one in the trunk who took the form of a college-aged woman walking down the road in the middle of the night. I guess they don’t expect you to see them, so catching them is simple.

I think I’ll place her in a grave next to all the others. I open the trunk and it yells through the tear-soaked gag. I drag it over to the open hole in my backyard and lay it to rest.

They seem so much like real people, I feel lucky to be able to see through them.

I must admit, I enjoy the irony of their fear, as I hear the wailing soul’s muffled screams from my backyard as I drift asleep.

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Credits to: photofreecreepypasta