A good short story grabs the reader and keeps them guessing to the end. We accomplish this through the element of suspense. Suspense keeps the reader wanting to know what will happen next. Here is a short story with a good dose of suspense that keeps the reader interested to the very end.
The Haunted House
Ever since I knew myself, I knew the story of the haunted house in my village. It was an old wooden house overrun by vines and bushes and with huge trees blocking the view to its inside. But as my friend and I peered through the thick vegetation one night, we saw someone moving about in a white gown. We froze in terror, and then,regaining our composure, ran for dear life.
The years passed and I was soon sixteen years old. I decided that I was going to solve this mystery once and for all. I would enter this house and confront this so-called ghost. “Ghost!”” I scoffed. Was I the only one in my village who didn’t believe in ghosts? What a bunch of superstitious idiots I lived around!
The whole village gathered outside on that fateful Friday night on which I had planned to enter the house. The full moon was out in all its glory, casting its rays through the dense vegetation of the “haunted house.”
My parents begged me not to go. My friends cheered me on but said it was a bad idea. My pastor advised me not to do it. But nothing could stop me. I didn’t believe in ghosts, and I felt my calling in life was to solve this mystery once and for all.
As I walked into the yard, I heard the sounds of boards creaking and everyone froze in terror. Then, the image appeared again, in all white, walking from one end of the building to the other. I kept walking. I was not afraid.
I opened the front door and stepped inside. The boards creaked under my weight. Then I heard a loud, frightful crying coming from upstairs. It was the ghost! I heard my parents and friends calling from outside, pleading with me to get out of there. but nothing could stop me. To confront this ghost was my mission in life. I walked upstairs.
In the hallway, I saw her there – a woman in a white dress, her back turned towards me. “Go away!” she screamed in a frightening voice.
“No,” I responded in a soft, gentle tone.”I’m here to help you.. Turn around. Look at me.”
The woman turned around. For a moment, I almost died. It was a frightening sight indeed. But then I saw it. She was only a woman who was badly scarred, both physically and emotionally.
I sat down with her and she told me her story: how she was burned in a fire, how she was abandoned by the persons she loved, and how she hid here for twenty years pretending to be ghost and surviving on fruits, herbs, and vegetables.
Holding her hand, I brought the trembling “ghost” out to a cheering village. The truth is, she wasn’t a ghost, but a beautiful old woman. The next day, the whole village came together and embarked on a labor of love: cleaning up and renovating her house, reconstructing her burnt face and body through surgeries, and restoring aunt Dolly’s faith in humanity.
