“This town was cursed before I came here,” he said, taking a few breaths before continuing. “As long as people from the outside consider this place good enough for them, it’ll stay intact.”
I knew I should have run, but I didn’t want to. I thought of my mother, who was still downstairs, my cousin, and of my dad, who was probably being seduced by his boss. I knew I didn’t want to be apart of that life.
It’s time for a story. Get ready.
This is a short story I wrote for Neil Gaiman’s MasterClass: The Art of Storytelling. I liked it a lot, so I wanted to share it here! This is my first short story I’ve posted here, so I hope you like it. It was the First of November—the night of the burning—and Nan knew thatContinue reading “November Song”
Whenever five or six English-speaking people meet round a fire on Christmas Eve, they start telling each other ghost stories…