A Not So Scary Story
I lived, for a year, with my grandmother, in a big house, when I was ten years old. The house had a main *floor, a second floor, a basement, and an attic. My grandma told me a funny anecdote once. Years earlier, one of my aunts was having a slumber party, and all of the girls were gathered near a window on the main floor, telling ghost stories. Grandma, mischievous lady that she is, thought she would give them a ghost. She went upstairs to a window directly above the window that the girls were sitting next to. She opened the window, stuck her arm out, and dropped a single white handkerchief outside into the night air. Quietly, she waited for the screams. And scream they did.
* I would say "four stories," but then my dad would comment, "What was the first story about?"