Harold's House

I can never remember the details after I wake up, but I've had the same nightmare too many times throughout the years, more than I can count. Recently I asked my brothers and sisters if they ever dream about the old house. Some tell me they do--of a room that wasn't there. That settles it. I'm turning this story over to my twelve-year-old incorrigible self. Only a scrawny kid skidding awkwardly toward puberty can explain how it feels to be haunted by the sins of his father, hunted by the town bullies, and taunted by a cantankerous ghost.©2014 Norma Pyper Mitchell (P)2015 Norma Pyper Mitchell