The Wraith Witnesses Anthology

WRAITH IN THE FLOOR

A/N: This little short story in poetry form was inspired by an incident I experienced when I was about six. I had heard scratching under the floorboards near the end of my room. I called for my parents, and when they came my dad said it was nothing. He said, "For something to be under the floor, it would have to be hallow". So, to prove me wrong, my dad jumped on the spot where I'd been hearing the scraping and it caved in, leaving a coffin-size hole in my floor, which had to be repaired while I was at school the next day. At the time, we lived in a century-old house that used to be a library. Yeah, talk about creepy.

WRAITH IN THE FLOOR

Six year-old Misty lay snug in her bed,

When she heard the cries of the restless dead.

"Mommy, Daddy!" she cried out loud,

And her parents came running with worried brows.

"What is it my child? What has you so scared?"

"The ghost, the ghost! At the end of my bed!"

"It's just the wind," her daddy said.

And with that, her parents went back to their bed,

Leaving Misty to think it was all in her head.

But then, "Help," came a voice in a whispering cry.

"Please let me out, I don't want to die."

You see, the ghost had no idea she was already dead,

Scaring the little girl, alone in her bed.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Misty cried again,

Yet, her parents stayed sleeping, dreaming instead,

As wails from the wraith filled Misty with dread.

A haunting tune of a ghost-like song,

the wraith did keen all night long.

It was never the wind. Her daddy was wrong.

'Twas the voice of a spirit all along.