{ Ghost Boy }

{ Ghost Boy }

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jul 5, 2021
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Fiction
Horror
It's a small orphanage. Nothing too extravagant with only 22 orphans attending the mildly eerie house on the west side of town. He had been a social outcast himself... when he was alive. He had always been a bit aloof and always in his own little world. He really liked jump rope and humming a soft music box tune as he jumped, or even just on a normal day while skipping happily around the campus. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was in a weak whisper or each word was emphasized with a stutter. The other kids didn't especially like him. He would never play with them. He was always by himself and in his own strange bubble of a world. They created names for him. Ghost boy, Skeleton, Stutter-stutter. He never minded all the children calling names, but when they started physically hurting him... that was when everything began. TW because that's how we roll: Mild cussing, Threats, Mild descriptions of violence, Verbal bullying, Emotional bullying, Physical bullying, Mentions and implications of death, Literal death You have been warned. Proceed at your own risk.
All Rights Reserved
#234
horrorfiction
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(Prequel to Clair de Lune) "We're born to believe the opposite of different is normal, and vice versa. Well, I'm the opposite of both." I lost my parents just before my fifteenth birthday. The circumstances were deemed accidental and it was swept under the rug. Truth is, someone covered up the whole situation and I was sent somewhere I knew no one would find me. I was swept under the rug too. Critter Ridge Orphanage is an old building placed in the pines somewhere in the state of New Jersey, run by a kindly woman and housing a family of others like me. Boys and girls all different in their own aspects. They didn't like me and I didn't like them, which was fine. Miss Huld, the owner, seemed to like me enough and that was all I needed. Things changed, though. They found a dead body on our property and everyone scrambled to lock the doors and bar the windows. The normal kids at school all started to edge away from us, from me in particular. They called us witches and devil worshippers. They were scared they might be next. I couldn't keep my nose out of where it didn't belong and then everyone was involved in the mystery. There's ghosts around every corner in this house, and if we don't figure out what's wrong here, we might just become the next ones.

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