#85 Turned Tables

Sara sat bolt upright in bed. She thought she heard a moan from the hallway. _That can't possibly be true,_ she thought. _Just go back to sleep. Ghosts_ don't _exist._

She slowly lowered her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. Sara sat up at the speed of light once more. _I know I heard something._

Tippy-toeing out of the bedroom she felt a cold wind brush her hair from her face. Her feet stalled for a second but she pushed on through her fear. * Frederick sat nursing an old army wound in the old family room of his house. He let out a moan as he pulled the three-day old linen from his leg. "Shit, that's gory."

By the fire, his brother Thomas let out a similar groan as he pulled off another bandage from his naked torso.

"I forget," said Thomas. "Did we win the war?"

"No idea."

A pale figure let out a whimper from the corner and the two men screamed: "Ghost!", running off into the kitchen, as Sara stood staring at the spectres that had flown from her sight.