This is my first time back at Friday Fictoneers for a while. I’m happy to be back and many thanks to Rochelle, as always, for providing us with this prompt.
Joey blamed it on trees rising like skeletons before the house.
Miriam blamed it on the fence with spokes arching like stakes.
Me? When I viewed that house with its innocuous siding and windows, I thought of curses, witches, blood.
And then we grew up.
After our tenth high school reunion, we congregated at O’Leary’s Pub where we tossed back a few shots of Bushmills.
“That house not haunted,” Joey slurred.
Somehow, we ended up there, staring through autumn trees at the house we’d maligned, when a lightning bolt seared the earth before us. Imagination or alcohol? Dust rose behind us.