Member-only story
It’s Spooky Season!
Let’s tell some ghost stories.
’Tis the season for spooky stories… I’ll tell a true ghostly tale from my own vault. Feel free to leave one of yours in the comments.
We begin. (Since this happened several years ago, the author reserves the right to rely on her memory for dialogue, knowing that while these may not be the exact words spoken, the general meaning is there.)
Once upon a time (many good stories begin this way), there was an old building in the center of a village made up of historic homes and businesses brought from all over the country. The homes and businesses had been lived in by both famous and not-so-famous people, chosen carefully to create an idyllic place where people could wander and visit the past. Sprinkled in were other buildings that hadn’t been brought from elsewhere, but were necessary to round out the variety of time periods and places. It was a truly special place, especially to those of us who worked there.
This particular structure was built to look like a typical New England Town Hall, even though it was hundreds of miles from any New England town. It had been built in the village, not taken from anywhere else, but was still old by modern standards. The siding was painted a gleaming bright white, its front pillars tall and stately, the true centerpiece of the pleasant village.
