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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Ghost · #1529151
Every story is a ghost story.
This story is not meant to be funny. Of course you could find a sense of dark humor hidden in its lines. Horror is always comical when it isn't happening to you.
It rained for the first time in months on February tenth. I didn't think much of it at the time; actually it was some what of a relief. The snow that had been falling for the past four months had grown too monotonous; it lined tthe roads in filthy mountains. With the ice melted I was able to see the muddy earth that was previously hidden. The sight was awfully depressing. I ran in that mud. The softened ground rose past my shins with every step. To say the least, I was a mess by the time I made it home. Disgusting as it sounds, I didn't shower until seven o'clock, nearly five hours after my run. I stripped down to nothing and disgarded by soiled running shorts and shirts by tossing them in the corner of my bathroom.
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