that night i believed in ghost stories

the summer had gone past full of mysteries and riddles. there was much gazing at the moon and telling stories round the fires at the beach. owls would provide the soundtrack to our scares. the waves rolling up towards us with the tide, framing the crescendo of our fears. i walked up to the garden gate and called out to my friend up ahead of me. he turned round and waved, but didn't come. instead, he tapped me on the shoulder from behind and gave me the biggest fright of my life. turns out his grandad -- also long-haired, also tall, also handsome -- had died in the house. he hung out by the gate, in the evening, to watch his grandson's pretty girls go by.