The priory ruins: 31 Dec 2019
The move was welcome, pulling her out of the depths of hell. And the new place old, built on the ruins of a dissolved priory, was perfect for her. Absolutely right.
Until the first night.
A presence in the room, a presence that seemed to snuggle against her when somewhat fearfully she slipped into bed and with some trepidation turned off the light.
She tensed at the undeniable touch of that presence wrapping around her. Enfolding her, warm with love.
She named him Casper, the loving ghost, not at all unwelcome.
91 words written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Unwelcome
crispina kemp 
I like the way you’ve used the word in a unexpected way to mean its opposite! A sweet and spooky story.
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Thank you. Enjoyed the write. Could have used one more word but… that’s the challenge
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What a story dear, beautifully twisted.
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Thank you, Laleh 🙂
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My pleasure.
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The image definitely looks like it might harbor a ghost or two. Lucky for her that it’s friendly! Ghosts need cuddles too, I suppose. When I was growing up we joked that we had a friendly ghost in our attic. His name was George, although my parents can’t remember why. George was a convenient scapegoat to blame for little mistakes, mostly not turning lights off: “Uh-oh, looks like George turned the lights on again while we were out.”
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When my daughters were young and had friends round, and they’d whisper and go into giggles, I always blamed it on Henry, that he was tickling them. But Henry became quite real. We descibed him, and that gave him form. When we then moved to Yarmouth, my oldest girl’s friends were able to describe him… without knowing our dscriptions. So we had to dismantle him. The named Henry was for many years banned.
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I’m always fascinated by the personal traditions and “legends” that families create for themselves, and how some of them started as one of a thousand little stories we tell for fun, but take root and are remembered years and even decades later.
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Henry lasted over 10 yrs, maybe 15. And he’s still around… which is why we don’t mention him 🙂
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George seems to have passed on to the next life. Or perhaps gone off to haunt some other family. Which is good, since my parents are having contractors put in pull-down stairs to the attic (just used a ladder up to now) and I don’t think George would have liked being disturbed by all the construction.
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They do not like it, that’s a fact.
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My eldest daughter’s father had a work done on his house… previous occupier, now decesaed, Mr Betts, would insist on walking through the new-built walls…. and freaking everyone who saw him.
That’s a true story. They called in the local priest… bell, book and candle job.
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And did it work?
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Yea. Until my daughter stayed there. She hadn’t been involved in the exorcism. And it alll started up again. Cos it’s not the place, it’s the people
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Beautiful photo to go with your story. I love the ending and the way you used the prompt word. Fantastic 🙂
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I thank you. Fun to write… and based on a true story. My place is built on the old priory, the remains of which are shown in the photo
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This was fantastic, Crispina. Using the word in the opposite way, the image, the story… the works, what!
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Thank you, Dale. I have my moments 🙂
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Quite a few, I say. 😉
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🙂 Thanks, Dale
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😊
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I love how you play with words! The description came out as an image, frankly. ❤️
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Thank you. Guess that’s cos it was in my head…
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Good ghosts in stories tend to please me.
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I don’t do many ghost stories… this one arose from the facts of my place
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You live in a haunted house?
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I don’t notice it now, but it did seem so when I first moved in. Built in the grounds of a C13th priory, a converted merchant’s house… great potential but it has never felt unsettling
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