The Ghost Story with the Family
Genevieve Mills


In the ghost story, there is a family. They are the typical all-American family: a mom whose hair falls in perfect waves, a dad who wears button-downs with the sleeves rolled up, and two or three children. One must be a teenager, angsty and surly, wearing black. One should be young enough that when they mention their imaginary friend, no one is alarmed at first. If there's a third, they are innocent and dreamy, perhaps a sleepwalker.

In the story, the family moves into a haunted house while trying to make a fresh start. Something bad has happened to them, before the story starts, but we won't know what until near the end. They think this house, with its hidden attic and drafty hallways, is a safe haven from the outside world, and the Bad Thing that happened to them. When one of the children has nightmares, or when the dog dies, or when the mom has horrible headaches, the dad says it's just part of the adjustment phase. There's nothing wrong with this new home that a little elbow grease can't fix. He tightens the screws on the doors that keeps swinging open, repairs the furnace so the cold spots go away, paints over the water stain that looks like a snarling mouth. He tells the family everything will be fine.

In the story, the ghosts are a metaphor for trauma. The ghosts won't be ignored and appear at the most inopportune times. They manifest in strange unexpected ways. They disrupt the peace. They cling to the house the same way the Bad Thing clings to the family. The mom wakes up with bruises. The dad says it's an iron deficiency. Easily fixable. If only.

In the ghost story, the climax is loud and dramatic and violent. The family is forced, finally, to face the ghosts head on. Maybe they get outside help, from a priest or a medium. Not a therapist, because that would be too on the nose. The priest or medium teaches them the ghosts' weaknesses. There are tears. They work together, the ghosts reminding the family that they're stronger when they communicate. The teenager breaks out of their sullen funk to help save their younger sibling from a not so imaginary friend. Lights flicker. The dad wields an iron candlestick like a sword. 

After the story's climax, the mom talks about the Bad Thing, to the priest or the medium or maybe, in a meta move, to the ghosts. When she's finished she looks lighter. She hugs her children close. The dad hugs her. The sun comes up on the no longer haunted house. The family gets their new beginning. In the story, the damage the ghosts have done is fixable.


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