That old man's been hanging around the front garden again, I can't believe it's the anniversary of his death already. Seems like just yesterday we moved in to a normal looking house only to find a lingering spirit who refuses to accept the fact that he up and died fifty odd years ago.
Every time my husband's confronted him the old man just shakes his head and says "Can't be right, not when my wife's waiting inside with me dinner." when she died three weeks after him. Broken heart according to the townsfolk, they say she literally loved him to death.
I reckon if she'd died at home they'd be reunited and we wouldn't have to put up with him standing about outside, banging on all the windows, doors, walls - whatever he can get his bloated hands on. Scares the living daylights out of the kids every time. Seems they may never get used to him.
He drowned in the sewer grate just in front of the garden, now hidden under hedges. One drink too many and he ducks under the barriers and splat onto a concrete walkway, crunch and his legs are broken, squelch he tries to drag himself towards the ladder up, misses and falls into the water.
Somehow he managed to wedge one of his hands under the last rung, you can see the red indent on his hand and how much drier and smaller it is than the other one. That's how they found him you know, a watery wreck that was vaguely human in shape and that had to be dragged out to the closest walkway vent as he was too big to go back out the grate.
Now he just walks about, looking for his wife and wondering why he can't go indoors anymore. If he'd just accept that he died we could all get a decent night's rest but no,apparently he is alive and well and water doesn't pour from his mouth whenever he starts talking cause living people don't do that.
Every time my husband's confronted him the old man just shakes his head and says "Can't be right, not when my wife's waiting inside with me dinner." when she died three weeks after him. Broken heart according to the townsfolk, they say she literally loved him to death.
I reckon if she'd died at home they'd be reunited and we wouldn't have to put up with him standing about outside, banging on all the windows, doors, walls - whatever he can get his bloated hands on. Scares the living daylights out of the kids every time. Seems they may never get used to him.
He drowned in the sewer grate just in front of the garden, now hidden under hedges. One drink too many and he ducks under the barriers and splat onto a concrete walkway, crunch and his legs are broken, squelch he tries to drag himself towards the ladder up, misses and falls into the water.
Somehow he managed to wedge one of his hands under the last rung, you can see the red indent on his hand and how much drier and smaller it is than the other one. That's how they found him you know, a watery wreck that was vaguely human in shape and that had to be dragged out to the closest walkway vent as he was too big to go back out the grate.
Now he just walks about, looking for his wife and wondering why he can't go indoors anymore. If he'd just accept that he died we could all get a decent night's rest but no,apparently he is alive and well and water doesn't pour from his mouth whenever he starts talking cause living people don't do that.
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