The Ghosts of the Stratton House
by Kristina Stammen

White billowy clouds blanketed the sky with the sun giving off an aura of heaven. I tilt my face toward the sun and smile, my husband is at my side. We are walking with arms entwined in a beautiful rose garden when from nowhere a loud cannon shot is heard and I suddenly fall to the ground. When I woke up I found myself in a moving car. The person at the wheel was wearing a black leather jacket. I couldn’t quite figure out who it was and I couldn’t even remember my name.

“Madison, wake up!!” the person next to me yelled. Slowly I turn my head in the direction of the voice and found a bitchy-looking girl.

“Don’t call me that!” I said in anger to the brunette bitch causing her to turn up her nose and shut up. I looked around and noticed we were going somewhere. Up ahead I saw a huge white house and realized what was going on. These three so-called friends had planned on scaring me to death by playing a practical joke on me. Despite my appearance of long blond hair, brown eyes and a height of five foot nine, I was considered an intelligent, introverted girl who didn’t have many friends. My name was Madison Stratton but preferred to be called Maddy. These so-called friends always enjoyed picking on me and this was no exception.

“Guess where we’re going?” the guy in front me teasingly asked as the other two just laughed.

“Spike, don’t scare Madison away like that,” the person in the front passenger seat said.

“We’re going to the Stratton House. Your favorite place!” Spike said menacingly.

Now I knew what was planned. They wanted me to see the house where the famous Stratton family once lived thus causing much humiliation to me because my last name was Stratton.  I knew that I was not part of the Stratton family, or did I. The house had a rather interesting history which started in the 17th century when the house was built. Spike stopped in front of the old Stratton House as the others just laughed. I groaned in agony.

In a bad shabby state, the Stratton House was considered Spooks Ville, even scarier at Halloween time.  Kids would throw stones at already broken windows and dare each other to go inside.

(This is an excerpt of a short story I wrote.)

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