All Who Fight
October 31, 2012
Living next to a cemetery, my Halloweens and birthday parties have never been normal. It’s an interesting experience, people asking me if I have ghosts for friends. I don’t. I can feel ghosts, though. I can talk to them, and they talk to me.
“Halloween tomorrow,” My older brother beckons, taunting me like he always does. “Witching hour is especially frightful. Are we going?”
My niece pipes up. “What’s witching hour, Auntie?”
“Dear, it’s midnight to four in the morning. It’s said that in those four hours, the ghosts come out to play,” I turn to Brett. “What kind of question is that?” I shoot back, we know how to play it.
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