March 2025 Short Story of the Month

They whispered through the dark, empty trees like a warning in a foreign language. Winter was coming, and with winter the ghosts would be restless. During the rest of the year, we spent little time in the house, opting instead to remain outside until the yard was filled with fireflies and the only lights in the sky were the stars twinkling. Even the ghosts were calmer and less distressed as long as the days had sunshine and the leaves stayed on the trees.

But, winter drew the ghosts back to the house. They, like us, had nowhere to go, and nothing to do when the days were short and the overwhelming feeling of everything was grey.

Mark and I were sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee fresh out of the pot. The house was struggling to keep warm after a sudden cold snap overnight. We both held our mugs in our hands, trying to steal the heat from the drinks and transfer that warmth to our bodies. It wasn’t really working, but we sipped anyway.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Mark turned towards the sound. It wasn’t the pipes. It wasn’t the house settling. It was the ghosts making themselves known.

I didn’t even react, just continued sipping my coffee and dreaming of spring, summer, and fall – anything but winter.

“We should do something about them,” said Mark.

I raised my eyebrows, but didn’t respond. Do what? Who did he think we could call about ghosts that wintered with us? If we told anyone, they would think we were crazy.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

I nodded and then sighed. He wasn’t going to let this go, and that would make winter even longer.

“What would you suggest we do?” I raised my eyebrows hoping to communicate how ludicrous I found his question, but it was lost on him.

“Maybe a priest,” he suggested.

“You’re not serious?” I asked, my voice filled with disbelief.

“Why not? We could use a relaxing winter. No more of this…” He trailed off as he gestured around himself, indicating the whole house.

I shook my head. “You’re forgetting the Christmas Eve party from five years ago.” I didn’t explain more, but let him think about it for a minute.

His brow furrowed for a minute, but then clarity hit. He grinned from ear to ear. “You mean, your cousin – the priest.” He chuckled softly.

I shook my head. “It wasn’t that funny.” I couldn’t help but grin though. It was pretty funny, especially if you knew my cousin. He’d always been a stick in the mud. I didn’t even want to invite him to the party, but my mother had insisted that it would be rude not too because he was family, blah, blah, blah.

The ghosts apparently didn’t like anyone with strong religious ties in the house. The second he’d stepped foot inside for that Christmas Eve party, they’d acted out more than ever.

The noises they made were louder than the string quartet playing in the great room. They knocked over the entire buffet with dessert, and they pulled my cousin’s pants down. A priest! And they pants him!

That wasn’t even the worst part of the evening. We’d never hosted a family get together after that because everyone in my family thought that Mark and I had pulled the “pranks” to be funny, despite how much in bad taste it was.

That wasn’t the worst part. What happened after was the part that nearly broke Mark and I. For a week following the stampede that ended the party, the ghosts had sat on the stairs laughing so loudly, we couldn’t hear each other talk no matter what room we were in.

They nearly broke us that winter.

All of this brings us back to our current situation. Winter has just started, and I’m already ready to leave this house.

You might be wondering why we don’t just sell it? Bottom line. We can’t. We owe more than it’s worth, and we would never recover financially if we did. We bought the house as young newlyweds thinking it would be lovely to work from home in a country setting surrounded by nature. Mark and I both are ghost writers for a bestselling author. Ironic right?

“Okay, so no priests,” said Mark. “But we have to do something. I can’t live like this all winter.”

I sighed. He was right. I couldn’t take it another winter either. “You’re right. Let’s think about this. There has to be something we can do.”

Mark paced in a circle. “I have an idea. It’s gonna sound crazy, but hear me out.”

He looked at me. He had my attention, what else did he want from me? I nodded for him to continue.

“Why don’t we try one of those things?” he gestured as he spoke. He moved his hand around in a circle.

“Are you having a stroke?” I asked. I had no idea what that gesture meant.

“Oh, come on. You know what I mean. Those board things.” He made the same strange hand gesture again.

I watched him for a few more seconds with my face scrunched in confusion. Then it hit me. “Do you mean a Ouija board?”

“That’s it,” he said. Then he clapped. “Where can we get one? Like today.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“How do you think a Ouija board can help?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he was thinking.

“We ask the ghosts what they want?” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I rubbed my forehead. I could see where there was going. “You cannot possibly think that real ghosts are like the ones from stories and movies? Unfinished business is not a thing.”

“How do you know? What if that’s all they want?” He lost his smile for a moment, but apparently, he wasn’t ready to let go of the idea. “We have to try something.”

I sighed again. “I don’t want to ruin your day, but I just don’t think it’s going to work.”

“I’m doing it anyway.” He jumped up from his seat and went promptly to the door, grabbing his keys on the way.

“Where are you headed?” I asked.

“I’m not coming home until I find one of those boards.” He waved and then slammed the door.

I sighed. I tried to take a sip of my coffee, but when I tipped the mug back, nothing came out. I looked into the empty cup and sighed. Apparently, this was a two-cup morning.

I managed to get up and pour myself another cup. I was annoyed. Annoyed at the ghost, and at Mark for thinking something from a dumb story would work.

I walked out into the foyer. As I stepped out of the kitchen, the chandelier above my head shook and dust flurried down onto me and into my freshly made coffee.

“Are you kidding me?” I shouted at the house. “Not my coffee!” I stomped up the stairs and stopped at the second-floor landing.

I stomped my feet like a toddler. “Enough! This house is ours. We bought it. I don’t know what you want, but I want all of this destructive behavior to stop!” I kept shouting. “We are going to find a way to get rid of you!”

The chandelier stopped shaking.

“I mean it! It’s either you or us! This house is not being enough for all of us, and your time is up!” I took a deep breath, waiting for some sort of response.

Nothing happened. I took another breath. Could that be it? They just needed yelled at?

No, that was not it.

The response started in the basement and made its way through the whole house. Every light started blinking, and the chandelier didn’t just shake, it swayed.

I stayed put. I didn’t know what else they might do in response. I stayed standing on that spot until I heard the front door open a couple hours later.

By the time that Mark walked in the house, every light was blinking in time to the music blaring out of the radio on full volume. The house was playing jingle bells and had been for long enough to make me crazy.

When the front door slammed shut, Mark walked in and looked up to see me standing there losing my mind.

He didn’t say anything, which was good because I couldn’t have heard him anyway. He just held up the Ouija board and shrugged.

 I nodded. It was worth a try.