Although this post may sound a bit fanciful, or fantastical, or even impossible, it’s 100% true.
Almost 18 months ago, on a cold and snowy January morning, my 10-year-old grandson played Monopoly with me for 2 ½ hours.
That’s not the fantastical part. 
Immediately after, grandson Neville and I baked his favorite cookies: Stickeydoodles (originally called Snickerdoodles but Neville changed the name for reasons you can guess).
That’s not the fanciful part. Continue reading
“Hold on to your hat, Stephen,” Harriet warns. “You’re about to discover how little you know.” https://roughwighting.net/2024/07/19/a-humdinger-of-a-ghost-story/
In an irritated, and yes, arrogant tone, Stephen responds, “I know you’ve created drama where there is none. My mom, your supposed best friend, was extremely successful. She was a famous literary novelist. I think you rode on her coattails and now that mom is dead, you want to ride some more. You want to write her books, make money, and gain success on the back of her death!” Continue reading
“It’s haunted, you know,” Stephen says as soon as the attorney, Mr. Richardson, reads his mother’s will.
“I know,” Harriet answers a bit smugly.
Stephen startles, opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it as if thinking better, then spits it out anyway: “That’s the only reason mother would leave the Berkshire cabin to you. It’s old, it’s unheated, and it’s been haunted for 100 years.” Stephen stands up, tight jeans hugging his hips, tight smile hugging his clenched teeth. Continue reading
Why I turned on the TV at 9:30 this morning I don’t know. I never watch daytime shows, but the rain is coming down in a Biblical way. The sound of it beating on top of my roof and against the windows makes me lonely. And not a little frightened. Continue reading
My grandmother, Nanny, died when I was 5, but I loved her with all my young heart. Even as a kindergartener, I could tell she was a gentle, kind, sweet, loving soul.
Since she died, I’ve talked to her in my head every so often, but she’s never visited me in my dreams. So, imagine my surprise when I wake up from a dream at four this morning with Nanny speaking urgently to me: “It’s behind the backyard at 525 Cramston. Go!” Continue reading
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