This story, a true tale from my
memoir The Kid in the Kaleidoscope, has
become a Halloween tradition here at Chubby Chatterbox. I hope you enjoy it:
*********
Haunted houses belong in the realm of goose
bumps, foggy nights and old neighborhoods, not pristine suburbs with freshly
asphalted streets, unblemished sidewalks and immature trees. But a ghost lingered
across the street, in a house where a man died. Read about it (here).
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