Monday, February 1, 2021
Roberta Eaton Cheadle (Image tomfoolery by Teagan)
When I was a little girl, there were a few times when a group of kids would gather in the garage part of my parent’s modest home, because they liked the games I made up. One boy had the brilliant idea that we should take turns telling ghost stories. So, we turned out the light and got a flashlight to shine up onto the face of the storyteller.
This boy kicked it off with a story about a casket that roamed around. Everyone would squeal when he announced how many miles away the casket was. That was the extent of the story. When it got there, we were supposed to be terrified. (Of course my parents were quick to put a stop to those shenanigans, but it was great while it lasted.)
I think the adult version of that…
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