Grandfather’s Ghost

Grandfather always told stories of ghosts, but I never believed them, and I never will.

Once he said he saw a ghost at midnight - the ghost of his cat. He cannot spend a day without talking about ghosts. He said, on the day and time that people die, they will come out every year for an hour.

Grandad has stopped. He doesn’t even talk. He sits in his chair all day. Mamma is worried. So is Pappa.

I was woken up, not by my alarm, but by a siren.

I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. Grandad was being loaded into an ambulance. Mamma came to my side.

"He will be alright," she said.

But that wasn’t true. He just got sicker and sicker. On the 28^th

^{of September - at eleven o’clock - Grandad died.}

A year passed by. A very lonely year.

On that day, a year later, there standing near the shore was Grandad.

"Hello my child," he said.

His face was as light as snow.

He was a ghost.

 

By: Eleanor 4W

This is a fabulous story Eleanor. You have done an amazing job capturing your reader's attention. You should be very proud of your work here

 

ToTheAuthor