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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Ghost Stories / Paranormal
- Published: 02/13/2018
The Kitchen Ghost
Born 1951, M, from NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE, United KingdomUsing a small flat-sided screwdriver he’d found in his craft box, he began to pry open the door bit by bit. In some places he had to scrape away the paint that was filling the gap between the door and the rest of the wall. Gary continued to pry and scrape at the door, until eventually he had cleared a gap all the way around its edge. He tried to wedge open the door but without success.
The Mills family had moved from their small-roomed basement flat, to an upstairs flat within an Edwardian terraced house with much larger rooms plus two sloping windowed attics, which were ideal bedrooms for their children. Gary, 13 years old, short cropped brunette hair, blue eyes like his mum, 1.52 metres tall, skinny, bony frame, intellectual looking, walks upright, looks straight ahead, starting to be less boyish and more manly; and Jennie, black hair, brown eyes (like her dad), aged 11 years, still carrying excess weight, a little shorter than her brother, very young girly looking, although a bit of a tom boy, sporty bouncy type. The view wasn’t much; across the roof tops, but the kids didn’t mind. They were happy that they had their own rooms.
Playing in his room, one November Saturday afternoon, Gary heard a noise. A kind of faint, whistling noise. At first he thought it might have been his wheezy chest due to his asthma. He deliberately took a deep intake of breath, but no, it wasn’t him. It sounded as if it were low down near the floor. As he was already sitting on the wooden slatted floor he crawled around trying to locate the sound. He looked, but, couldn’t find where it was coming from. Although, he seemed to be nearer the sound now.
He noticed what looked like a small straight crack, in the wall beneath the sloping attic window. He could feel the draft. Looking more closely, he followed a crack all the way until it met itself. It had formed a small oblong shape. In fact, it appeared to be a door, but without an obvious handle. Gary was intrigued.
'Funny, nobody’s mentioned this. Dad must’ve painted right over it without noticing,' he thought to himself. Being inquisitive, he searched his room for any kind of tool that would help him get it open. He tried with his fingernails, but without success. He was determined to find out what was inside! Gary was not the kind of person to give up easily. He needed something bigger and stronger, but narrow enough to get into the gap he had made. 'A big screw-driver,' he thought, 'and I know just where I can find one.'
Going down the steep narrow stairs that led from the attic, Gary made his way to the kitchen, trying to avoid speaking to his sister sitting on the settee, who was absorbed in a TV program, as he crossed behind her. Underneath the sink was his father’s tool box. He opened it up and took out a large red-handled screw-driver.
“Er, what’s that you’ve got there?” said his mum, busily piling plates into the dishwasher.
“Nothing, just a screwdriver.” Said Gary.
“And what do you want that for?” continued his mum.
“I need to fix something in my bedroom.” Answered Gary sheepishly and rushed off, back upstairs to his room.
Gary couldn’t wait to get back to prying open the mysterious door. Now, he had the screw-driver, he felt sure it could do the trick. He probed with it, trying to get a good leverage. There was a bit where the crack seemed wider and deeper, so he pushed as hard as he could. He could hear the wood strain and creak, but nothing was budging. He tried another place, same results. He stopped to rest and rethink his strategy. He’d give it one more try. He really pushed and wriggled the blade of the screwdriver, sweat beginning to dampen his shirt. The wood of the door began to move ever so slightly. The screw-driver slid further under the wood, but as it got further underneath, it seemed as if the wood was going to split.
‘Not good! He thought. ‘I’d better try another gap.’ He the inserted the screwdriver under another edge, after a bit of pushing, the door popped off from the walls. In fact, it wasn’t a door at all but just a thin piece of wood glued by its edges to cover the now visible hole.
It was too dark to see anything inside, so he went to get his torch, which wasn’t where he’d left it.
“Jennie, have you seen my torch?” He shouted down the stairs.
“Yes, I borrowed it. I’ll bring it up.’
‘No. No. I’ll come down.’ Said Gary, not wanting Jennie to know what he was up to.
But Jennie, although younger than Gary, wasn’t stupid. She suspected Gary was up to something.
Gary was already at the lounge door by the time she found the torch.
Which she handed to him while giving him a slight smirky smile. She’d let him go up and quietly sneak up later.
Gary was on his knees, shining the light into the tiny cupboard, when Jennie came in.
“What ya doing down there?” She asked.
“Well, what does it look like, flying a kite!” Snorted Gary.
“What’s in there, can I have a look?” asked Jennie.
“Just wait a minute, ’til I have a look! I can see something at the back,” said Gary, “you have a look.” Jennie crouched on her knees and squeezed past Gary to look inside.
“Yeah, there is something. It looks like an old tin hat to me.”
Gary had another look and decided that she was right. “Shall I crawl in and get it?” Queried Gary.
“No, you’d better not. Mum would be mad if you got stuck. You need something to fish it out with. Go get your fishing rod, and we’ll try and get it out with that.”
It didn’t succeed at first, but eventually it hooked on to something. But, it wasn’t a tin hat that came out first.
"Oooo…. Look at that, a pirate sword!" Squealed Jennie, eyeing the rusty curved blade now lying in the blue tufts of the attic’s geometrically patterned carpet.
Meanwhile, Gary was still casting his fishing line into the hole. ‘Ha, got it! He exclaimed. He’d hooked the hat by its chin straps and out it came.
"I’ve seen these on TV. It must be at least 100 years old." Said Gary, running the hat through his hands.
"Let’s show mum." Said Jennie, excitedly.
Gary and Jennie ran downstairs with an object each in their hands and dashed straight into the kitchen where their mother was working.
“Look, what we’ve found!” Exclaimed Gary to his mum.
“Yes, they’re from the first world war,” She said, “We left them there out of the way.”
“Can I keep them if I clean them up?” enquired Gary.
“Ok then.” Said his mother.
“Who do they belong to?” Jennie asked.
“They belonged to an old lady who used to live here.”
“Didn’t she want them?” asked Jennie.
“Well, not now, she doesn’t,” said her mother, “she’s dead.”
“Oh, how do you know that?” continued Jennie.
“If you must know,” said mother, “she died here, in this flat. Satisfied?”
“Er, does that mean, we have a ghost, then?” asked Jennie.
“Doubt it,” said her mother, “there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Then Gary, while waving his hands in front of his face, said spookily, “Woooo….. Maybe, we have the ghost of the lady who died here, or maybe, the ghost of the soldier who wore the helmet or the man who wielded the sword!”
Jennie shook her head; not impressed.
"Anyway, what do you fancy for your dinner?" Asked Mum, not giving the kids a chance to answer. "Your dad’ll not be in until 11 and I’m too shattered from work to cook anything. Pizza, Chinese, fish and chips?"
Both kids shouted, "Pizza!" But then couldn’t agree on what type.
"OK, OK, I’ll go and get a big one and we’ll all share whatever I choose." She knew what the kids liked. So it was easy to get one that would suit them all.
While Mum was donning her blue winter anorak, matching wooly gloves and bobble hat, she continued, "Now, you two, behave yourselves while I’m out. I’ll ring you when I’m on my way back, then one of you can set the table and the other make the tea."
Then the thought came into her mind, ‘They’re sure to argue about who does what.’ So she added, "Gary, you put on the kettle and Jennie you can set the table. Bye!"
And off she went into a cold, dark wintry night to the Pizza shop. Rather than walking the fifteen minutes to the shop she hopped into her small red family car and drove the short distance.
‘Well, it is cold.’ She guiltily thought to herself.
Meanwhile, Jennie had settled down to watch one of her favourite TV programs; while Gary attempted to do some English homework.
He didn’t really like English lessons; he was more into the sciences, especially Biology. He fancied himself as a great scientist one day; making new discoveries to change the world. He liked to dream.
So, all was fairly quiet in the Mills family lounge when, the family’s mobile phone rang with its piercing tone. Blingbring.. blingbring.. bling bring..
"Get the phone, Jennie!" Barked Gary. "It’ll be mum."
"I’m watching my program!"
"And I’m, doing my homework!"
Meanwhile the phone is still screaming to be answered and getting on their nerves.
Both make a grab for it, but Gary got there first.
"Hello!"
"Gary, is that you?"
"Yea, just out of breath reaching for the phone. I was trying to finish my essay."
"OK. Well, I’m just about to start the car, so you can put the kettle on and tell Jennie to set the table."
"OK. Bye."
"That was mum; she says you got to set the table."
"Don’t tell me what to do! You’re always bossing me about."
"I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m telling you what mum said! Don’t make the table if you don’t want to and see what mum says. I’m putting the kettle on and making the tea, anyway," Gary said smiling, before sticking out his tongue to Jennie.
Gary sauntered across the lounge and stepped down into the kitchen. Filled up the kettle, switched it on, put tea bags into the teapot and left the kitchen after switching off the light just inside the door. He returned to his homework laid out on the dining table.
Jennie was still smouldering, pretending not to notice what Gary was doing. After Gary had sat down, she had decided to set the table for tea.
"You’ll have to move your books!" She snapped.
"I just need to finish this essay."
"No! You said I had to set the table, so I am!"
Gary just glared at her, picked up his books and took them to his attic bedroom; while muttering loud enough, "I’ll get no peace here."
Jennie got on with setting the table. Back and forth from the kitchen with plates, mugs, milk, sugar, knives and forks. Once she was happy with the table, Jennie switched off the kitchen light and closed the door. Pleased with herself, she plonked herself back in front of the TV and waited for the Pizza to arrive.
When suddenly, she thought heard a thud.
There was another.
She turned down the sound on the TV so she could hear where the sounds were coming from.
There was another one.
She moved towards the kitchen door.
Another thud.
They were definitely coming from the kitchen and the door was closed. A thought ran through her head, ‘There must be someone in there. They must have come through the back yard and up the steps. And they’re robbing us!’
Mum was out, Dad was at work and Gary was upstairs. She wasn’t going to open the door alone. She felt frightened.
She ran to the bottom of the attic stairs and screamed, "Gary! Gary! I think there’s somebody in the kitchen. Can you come down please."
She was getting tearful now.
"What!!" retorted Gary as he peeped his head out his bedroom door and looked down on his sister, quaking with terror at the bottom of the stairs.
Even though he thought she could be a bit of a pain sometimes, he didn’t like to see his sister frightened like this.
So, leaping two stairs at a time, Gary landed beside Jennie. "There’s someone in the kitchen?" He queried.
She only nodded, trying not to cry.
"You’re, sure. It might be the ghost, you know," Said Gary, trying to be clever.
Jennie just glared and pointed through the lounge to the kitchen door.
They both tip toed through the lounge, got to the door. Stopped and listened, hardly breathing.
“Hello!” said a nervy Jennie.
There was no reply, but the noises continued.
“Who’s there?” Gary shouted in his best manly voice.
Still, there was no reply.
“If you don’t come out, we’re gonna phone the police,” Continued Gary.
Still, no reply, but the noises had stopped.
“I wonder if they’ve gone?” Jennie asked Gary.
“Well, there’s one way to find out,” said Gary, “go in, and have a look.”
“Me!” retorted Jennie, “They might grab me before I reach the light switch.”
“Uh, ok. I’ll do it.” said Gary.
“You’d better watch out, I’m coming in!” shouted Gary through the door. Not before he’d grabbed the old sword in case he needed it to protect himself. Then he opened the door and stepped in.
Gary fumbled for the light switch; on came the light, but Gary couldn’t see a thing. It was like a thick fog.
Jennie followed. Stepping cautiously down the step and into the kitchen. Her nerves still jangling.
"There’s nobody here,” said Gary, a bit disappointed.
Meanwhile, the fog was clearing and Jennie gingerly looked around the kitchen for signs of an intruder. They checked the back door; it was still locked. Everything appeared as it normally did.
“Well, what caused the noises, then?” Asked Jennie.
“Hey, look, what I’ve found.” said Gary, pointing to the steps leading to the backdoor. “This is what made all the noise.” Said Gary.
There were four large potatoes resting on the wooden stairs.
“The bottom of this paper bag must have come apart due to all the steam, so the potatoes fell on the floor and rolled down the stairs.”
"Oh! said Gary, after picking up a now very light weight kettle. "It’s burnt dry! It hasn’t switched itself off and all the water has boiled away."
Both Gary and Jennie simultaneously burst out laughing.
Just then their mum arrived in the lounge carrying a large pizza box.
"Why are you two laughing so much?"
They told her what happened and she burst out laughing too.
"We’ll get a new kettle tomorrow. Meanwhile, put on a pan and boil some water. This pizza needs eating."
Luckily, there were no robbers and definitely no ghost at all.
The Kitchen Ghost(George Hunter)
Using a small flat-sided screwdriver he’d found in his craft box, he began to pry open the door bit by bit. In some places he had to scrape away the paint that was filling the gap between the door and the rest of the wall. Gary continued to pry and scrape at the door, until eventually he had cleared a gap all the way around its edge. He tried to wedge open the door but without success.
The Mills family had moved from their small-roomed basement flat, to an upstairs flat within an Edwardian terraced house with much larger rooms plus two sloping windowed attics, which were ideal bedrooms for their children. Gary, 13 years old, short cropped brunette hair, blue eyes like his mum, 1.52 metres tall, skinny, bony frame, intellectual looking, walks upright, looks straight ahead, starting to be less boyish and more manly; and Jennie, black hair, brown eyes (like her dad), aged 11 years, still carrying excess weight, a little shorter than her brother, very young girly looking, although a bit of a tom boy, sporty bouncy type. The view wasn’t much; across the roof tops, but the kids didn’t mind. They were happy that they had their own rooms.
Playing in his room, one November Saturday afternoon, Gary heard a noise. A kind of faint, whistling noise. At first he thought it might have been his wheezy chest due to his asthma. He deliberately took a deep intake of breath, but no, it wasn’t him. It sounded as if it were low down near the floor. As he was already sitting on the wooden slatted floor he crawled around trying to locate the sound. He looked, but, couldn’t find where it was coming from. Although, he seemed to be nearer the sound now.
He noticed what looked like a small straight crack, in the wall beneath the sloping attic window. He could feel the draft. Looking more closely, he followed a crack all the way until it met itself. It had formed a small oblong shape. In fact, it appeared to be a door, but without an obvious handle. Gary was intrigued.
'Funny, nobody’s mentioned this. Dad must’ve painted right over it without noticing,' he thought to himself. Being inquisitive, he searched his room for any kind of tool that would help him get it open. He tried with his fingernails, but without success. He was determined to find out what was inside! Gary was not the kind of person to give up easily. He needed something bigger and stronger, but narrow enough to get into the gap he had made. 'A big screw-driver,' he thought, 'and I know just where I can find one.'
Going down the steep narrow stairs that led from the attic, Gary made his way to the kitchen, trying to avoid speaking to his sister sitting on the settee, who was absorbed in a TV program, as he crossed behind her. Underneath the sink was his father’s tool box. He opened it up and took out a large red-handled screw-driver.
“Er, what’s that you’ve got there?” said his mum, busily piling plates into the dishwasher.
“Nothing, just a screwdriver.” Said Gary.
“And what do you want that for?” continued his mum.
“I need to fix something in my bedroom.” Answered Gary sheepishly and rushed off, back upstairs to his room.
Gary couldn’t wait to get back to prying open the mysterious door. Now, he had the screw-driver, he felt sure it could do the trick. He probed with it, trying to get a good leverage. There was a bit where the crack seemed wider and deeper, so he pushed as hard as he could. He could hear the wood strain and creak, but nothing was budging. He tried another place, same results. He stopped to rest and rethink his strategy. He’d give it one more try. He really pushed and wriggled the blade of the screwdriver, sweat beginning to dampen his shirt. The wood of the door began to move ever so slightly. The screw-driver slid further under the wood, but as it got further underneath, it seemed as if the wood was going to split.
‘Not good! He thought. ‘I’d better try another gap.’ He the inserted the screwdriver under another edge, after a bit of pushing, the door popped off from the walls. In fact, it wasn’t a door at all but just a thin piece of wood glued by its edges to cover the now visible hole.
It was too dark to see anything inside, so he went to get his torch, which wasn’t where he’d left it.
“Jennie, have you seen my torch?” He shouted down the stairs.
“Yes, I borrowed it. I’ll bring it up.’
‘No. No. I’ll come down.’ Said Gary, not wanting Jennie to know what he was up to.
But Jennie, although younger than Gary, wasn’t stupid. She suspected Gary was up to something.
Gary was already at the lounge door by the time she found the torch.
Which she handed to him while giving him a slight smirky smile. She’d let him go up and quietly sneak up later.
Gary was on his knees, shining the light into the tiny cupboard, when Jennie came in.
“What ya doing down there?” She asked.
“Well, what does it look like, flying a kite!” Snorted Gary.
“What’s in there, can I have a look?” asked Jennie.
“Just wait a minute, ’til I have a look! I can see something at the back,” said Gary, “you have a look.” Jennie crouched on her knees and squeezed past Gary to look inside.
“Yeah, there is something. It looks like an old tin hat to me.”
Gary had another look and decided that she was right. “Shall I crawl in and get it?” Queried Gary.
“No, you’d better not. Mum would be mad if you got stuck. You need something to fish it out with. Go get your fishing rod, and we’ll try and get it out with that.”
It didn’t succeed at first, but eventually it hooked on to something. But, it wasn’t a tin hat that came out first.
"Oooo…. Look at that, a pirate sword!" Squealed Jennie, eyeing the rusty curved blade now lying in the blue tufts of the attic’s geometrically patterned carpet.
Meanwhile, Gary was still casting his fishing line into the hole. ‘Ha, got it! He exclaimed. He’d hooked the hat by its chin straps and out it came.
"I’ve seen these on TV. It must be at least 100 years old." Said Gary, running the hat through his hands.
"Let’s show mum." Said Jennie, excitedly.
Gary and Jennie ran downstairs with an object each in their hands and dashed straight into the kitchen where their mother was working.
“Look, what we’ve found!” Exclaimed Gary to his mum.
“Yes, they’re from the first world war,” She said, “We left them there out of the way.”
“Can I keep them if I clean them up?” enquired Gary.
“Ok then.” Said his mother.
“Who do they belong to?” Jennie asked.
“They belonged to an old lady who used to live here.”
“Didn’t she want them?” asked Jennie.
“Well, not now, she doesn’t,” said her mother, “she’s dead.”
“Oh, how do you know that?” continued Jennie.
“If you must know,” said mother, “she died here, in this flat. Satisfied?”
“Er, does that mean, we have a ghost, then?” asked Jennie.
“Doubt it,” said her mother, “there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Then Gary, while waving his hands in front of his face, said spookily, “Woooo….. Maybe, we have the ghost of the lady who died here, or maybe, the ghost of the soldier who wore the helmet or the man who wielded the sword!”
Jennie shook her head; not impressed.
"Anyway, what do you fancy for your dinner?" Asked Mum, not giving the kids a chance to answer. "Your dad’ll not be in until 11 and I’m too shattered from work to cook anything. Pizza, Chinese, fish and chips?"
Both kids shouted, "Pizza!" But then couldn’t agree on what type.
"OK, OK, I’ll go and get a big one and we’ll all share whatever I choose." She knew what the kids liked. So it was easy to get one that would suit them all.
While Mum was donning her blue winter anorak, matching wooly gloves and bobble hat, she continued, "Now, you two, behave yourselves while I’m out. I’ll ring you when I’m on my way back, then one of you can set the table and the other make the tea."
Then the thought came into her mind, ‘They’re sure to argue about who does what.’ So she added, "Gary, you put on the kettle and Jennie you can set the table. Bye!"
And off she went into a cold, dark wintry night to the Pizza shop. Rather than walking the fifteen minutes to the shop she hopped into her small red family car and drove the short distance.
‘Well, it is cold.’ She guiltily thought to herself.
Meanwhile, Jennie had settled down to watch one of her favourite TV programs; while Gary attempted to do some English homework.
He didn’t really like English lessons; he was more into the sciences, especially Biology. He fancied himself as a great scientist one day; making new discoveries to change the world. He liked to dream.
So, all was fairly quiet in the Mills family lounge when, the family’s mobile phone rang with its piercing tone. Blingbring.. blingbring.. bling bring..
"Get the phone, Jennie!" Barked Gary. "It’ll be mum."
"I’m watching my program!"
"And I’m, doing my homework!"
Meanwhile the phone is still screaming to be answered and getting on their nerves.
Both make a grab for it, but Gary got there first.
"Hello!"
"Gary, is that you?"
"Yea, just out of breath reaching for the phone. I was trying to finish my essay."
"OK. Well, I’m just about to start the car, so you can put the kettle on and tell Jennie to set the table."
"OK. Bye."
"That was mum; she says you got to set the table."
"Don’t tell me what to do! You’re always bossing me about."
"I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m telling you what mum said! Don’t make the table if you don’t want to and see what mum says. I’m putting the kettle on and making the tea, anyway," Gary said smiling, before sticking out his tongue to Jennie.
Gary sauntered across the lounge and stepped down into the kitchen. Filled up the kettle, switched it on, put tea bags into the teapot and left the kitchen after switching off the light just inside the door. He returned to his homework laid out on the dining table.
Jennie was still smouldering, pretending not to notice what Gary was doing. After Gary had sat down, she had decided to set the table for tea.
"You’ll have to move your books!" She snapped.
"I just need to finish this essay."
"No! You said I had to set the table, so I am!"
Gary just glared at her, picked up his books and took them to his attic bedroom; while muttering loud enough, "I’ll get no peace here."
Jennie got on with setting the table. Back and forth from the kitchen with plates, mugs, milk, sugar, knives and forks. Once she was happy with the table, Jennie switched off the kitchen light and closed the door. Pleased with herself, she plonked herself back in front of the TV and waited for the Pizza to arrive.
When suddenly, she thought heard a thud.
There was another.
She turned down the sound on the TV so she could hear where the sounds were coming from.
There was another one.
She moved towards the kitchen door.
Another thud.
They were definitely coming from the kitchen and the door was closed. A thought ran through her head, ‘There must be someone in there. They must have come through the back yard and up the steps. And they’re robbing us!’
Mum was out, Dad was at work and Gary was upstairs. She wasn’t going to open the door alone. She felt frightened.
She ran to the bottom of the attic stairs and screamed, "Gary! Gary! I think there’s somebody in the kitchen. Can you come down please."
She was getting tearful now.
"What!!" retorted Gary as he peeped his head out his bedroom door and looked down on his sister, quaking with terror at the bottom of the stairs.
Even though he thought she could be a bit of a pain sometimes, he didn’t like to see his sister frightened like this.
So, leaping two stairs at a time, Gary landed beside Jennie. "There’s someone in the kitchen?" He queried.
She only nodded, trying not to cry.
"You’re, sure. It might be the ghost, you know," Said Gary, trying to be clever.
Jennie just glared and pointed through the lounge to the kitchen door.
They both tip toed through the lounge, got to the door. Stopped and listened, hardly breathing.
“Hello!” said a nervy Jennie.
There was no reply, but the noises continued.
“Who’s there?” Gary shouted in his best manly voice.
Still, there was no reply.
“If you don’t come out, we’re gonna phone the police,” Continued Gary.
Still, no reply, but the noises had stopped.
“I wonder if they’ve gone?” Jennie asked Gary.
“Well, there’s one way to find out,” said Gary, “go in, and have a look.”
“Me!” retorted Jennie, “They might grab me before I reach the light switch.”
“Uh, ok. I’ll do it.” said Gary.
“You’d better watch out, I’m coming in!” shouted Gary through the door. Not before he’d grabbed the old sword in case he needed it to protect himself. Then he opened the door and stepped in.
Gary fumbled for the light switch; on came the light, but Gary couldn’t see a thing. It was like a thick fog.
Jennie followed. Stepping cautiously down the step and into the kitchen. Her nerves still jangling.
"There’s nobody here,” said Gary, a bit disappointed.
Meanwhile, the fog was clearing and Jennie gingerly looked around the kitchen for signs of an intruder. They checked the back door; it was still locked. Everything appeared as it normally did.
“Well, what caused the noises, then?” Asked Jennie.
“Hey, look, what I’ve found.” said Gary, pointing to the steps leading to the backdoor. “This is what made all the noise.” Said Gary.
There were four large potatoes resting on the wooden stairs.
“The bottom of this paper bag must have come apart due to all the steam, so the potatoes fell on the floor and rolled down the stairs.”
"Oh! said Gary, after picking up a now very light weight kettle. "It’s burnt dry! It hasn’t switched itself off and all the water has boiled away."
Both Gary and Jennie simultaneously burst out laughing.
Just then their mum arrived in the lounge carrying a large pizza box.
"Why are you two laughing so much?"
They told her what happened and she burst out laughing too.
"We’ll get a new kettle tomorrow. Meanwhile, put on a pan and boil some water. This pizza needs eating."
Luckily, there were no robbers and definitely no ghost at all.
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Kevin Hughes
07/01/2019Aloha Gerge,
I don't want to mimic Jd's comments (even though I agree with them wholeheartedly) so I will just say: "Well Done!" Including the wonderful illustration.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
06/30/2019That's a really fun story and I think that kids and readers of all ages will enjoy it. I like the ghostly drawing you provided to go with the story, too. Did you draw it yourself?
Congratulations on being selected as one of the Short Story STARS of the Week, George, and Thank you for sharing your short stories on Storystar! : )
Help Us Understand What's Happening
George Hunter
06/30/2019Thanks for your kind comments. The story was based on my own experience was I was a young boy and yes, I did paint the illustration. I'm a painter, sculptor, poet, musician and sometime author. LOL! My website is www.ghunterartist.co.uk
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