Le Shorts

I’ve Got a Ghost Story for You

I don’t have many jokes or scary stories, but the few I have, and rarely tell, are good ones.

I’ve got a good one for you.


There once was an old woman who lived alone with her little dog. At night in her bed, she would put her hand down and the little dog would lick her hand, and so she knew everything was all right. The same went for this night. She put her hand down over the bed and the little dog licked her hand, and she knew all was well. So she went to sleep.

Sometime during the night, the old woman was awakened by a sound. It was like the drip, drip, dripping of water. She tried to go back to sleep, but she found that she couldn’t, and the drip, drip, dripping continued.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, assuming the faucet had come loose. She tightened the faucet handles and went back to bed. She put her hand down and the little dog licked her hand, and so she went to sleep. But she couldn’t sleep just yet. The sound of the drip, drip, dripping continued.

“It could be the shower,” she thought to herself, and got out of bed again. She went to the bathroom, testing the faucet levers once more, before pulling back the curtain of the shower. There hanging from the shower head with blood drip, drip, dripping down its nose, was the little dog.

A shudder went through her when she realized something else had licked her hand that night… Some thing under the bed…

Frightfully yours,

Fanny T. Crispin


What Soothes the Soul?

Do you ever miss listening to music in the dark? Your headphones on and music rippling through your soul causing waves.

There’s a deeper connection here in the void. Just you. Just sounds. Something wholesome. Your soul sees. Your heart hears. Each ripple cascades over your skin with cool relief. Something deeper stirs. You feel it.

Part of you knows this moment is not of our world. It’s from beyond. You want to stay here. You need this. The other part of you – probably the pragmatic part – senses that it simply can’t last. So you sink beneath the waves. You dream. You taste.

Then you wake up.

This has been,