Stormy Night For Wandering Spirits

The wind whistled around the corner of the singlewide, whipping branches ferociously side to side between the street light and the window, casting long dancing shadows across the room. This did not bother me.

It was the scratching outside the room which had me hunkered down under my covers.

scritch scratch scratch.. thump

Whatever it was wanted in, and it wasn’t human.

eeeeeoooo squealed a sound that most definitely was not a kind of tree that I knew.

Silently, I fixed my eyes on the window. Just beyond it was the yard and the road, and beyond that was a forest full of legendary horror stories. Out there somewhere was a man who had driven off the road and died, his car long rusted and vine covered. He roamed the woods, looking for the way home.

I smelled mayonaise. That was the weirdest part, the odd smell. Was that what a risen spirit smelled when it wandered in the rain?

scritch scratch thump

I closed my eyes. My breath came quickly as my neck hairs stood up.

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