The Girl in the Park (Of Ghost Stories, Urban Legends, and Seventh-Grade English Classes): A Tale of Horror

Rodney’s seen a dead girl, and not her body but her ghost, and as she explains it to Mr. Luff and the rest of the students in his seventh grade English class, the story has the ring of truth.

A girl murdered.

Her boyfriend murdered.

All of it decades ago.

Nonetheless, the class and Mr. Luff find themselves transfixed and unable to disbelieve. Whatever secrets the small town holds, the story of Ashley’s ghost might be the biggest of all.

Warning: This ghost story contains adult language and also references graphic and disturbing images. Adults should read this story first in order to determine if it is appropriate for a child in their care.

Here is a preview:

“Tell us about it,” I said. He was tentative now because there wasn’t likely anything on earth more frightening to a seventh grader than the scorn of his peers. “In fact,” I said, “if you can make it interesting, you can skip the pop quiz we’re about to have.” The class groaned and I told them to simmer down. I didn’t really have a pop quiz planned. I’d have to make it up on the fly but that wouldn’t be too difficult. Besides, I wanted to give an incentive to Rodney and to punish the class a little bit, too.
Rodney nodded and took a deep breath, and even with his first sentence it seemed the entire atmosphere in the room changed. The very first sentence seemed to send ice over my spine and I sat on my desk because I had to, and not because I wanted to. “There’s a ghost who haunts a tree in Governor Park because somebody hung her boyfriend from the tree and then slashed her throat so that she died right under where her boyfriend did.”
“Hanged,” I said softly. “Someone hanged her boyfriend.”
Gregory, the class genius, said, “But just this morning you said you hung out with your parents on Sunday, and yesterday you asked where we hung the flyer for the homecoming dance, so—”
“When it means to kill somebody by hanging, it’s always hanged.”
The words had the same effect as that first sentence from Rodney, and I gasped because the iciness seemed to settle over everyone. Even Jerry was affected, and he was the class asshole. I couldn’t call him the clown because his taunts rarely got laughter, even from the other kids. He said, “Tell us more, Rod.”
“It’s a real story. I mean. It really happened…”