"Look at these cool pictures from the ghost hunt!" Andrea said, handing me a stack of photos. I shuffle through them, watching as the red pair of eyes follows me on every photo.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
I creak along the old stage, memories of my first performance sending a grin creeping up my face. "This was my stage!" The woman whines. I scream, as her black pits of eyes send me pummeling through the old wood, into the arms of those before me.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
As I reach the top of the lighthouse, I see the historic souvenirs everywhere, an old map, some old buttons. The old sailer suddenly appears behind me. "Young lady, this is my lighthouse." He yells, sending me down the four stories of steps. He died fifty years ago.