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I froze in my bed, terrified by the soft moaning and crying coming from the living room in my apartment. It’s 3am. I live alone. I start saying to myself,

There’s no such thing as ghosts.

I cover my ears when I hear nails scratching on my living room floor. My eyes are shut tight, but it couldn’t keep the tears from flowing out anyway.

There’s no such thing as ghosts.

I open my eyes just a little. She’s right outside my bedroom door. Bloody. Contorted. Broken. Crawling. My heart stopped for a second.

There’s no such thing as ghosts.

30 minutes went by. The moaning and crying has gone. Her too. I sigh in relief. I start wiping the blood and sweat off me with a towel.

There’s no such thing as ghosts.

The next time I attempt to murder someone, I gotta make sure they’re actually dead. And immediately buried. Bathrooms are a terrible place to temporarily store their bodies.

I laugh at how silly I had acted earlier and sleep peacefully. There’s no such thing as ghosts!


Credits to: captainobviouslynot

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