I love ghost stories, (although sadly Mrs Summerhouse does not), as books (Stephen King et al), stories (M.R. James, Charles Dickens), TV programmes (The Signalman, The Monkeys Paw), plays (The Ghost Train, Woman in Black, Ghost Stories) or films, serious and humorous ones, (The Sixth Sense, The Others, The Orphanage, The Exorcist, The Fog (just), The Cat and the Canary -Bob Hope, a particular favourite).
What has this got to do with retirement? Just an opportunity for reflection on past writings, on those things you put away for a later time and now saying I can bring this out now if I want to, that’s all.
This is my own humble offering, the ninth in the series of eleven ghost stories from the ebook That Which Lies Beneath. Just two more to go. Can’t remember where the idea for this story came from, passing some lonely bus shelter out on the moors probably. To read it go to the tool bar above, hover on That Which lies Beneath, scroll down to and click on this title and away you go. Hope you enjoy it.