Ghosts Can Cry (standard:horror, 611 words)
Author: Zette	Added: Nov 03 2009	Views/Reads: 2863/2	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a story about how a young boy finds out that GHOSTS CAN CRY!

GHOSTS CAN CRY 

A chill ran down my spine as I cautiously turned the old and rusty
doorknob. The creaking noise of the door brought a current of fear to 
my body, as I slowly opened the door. The floor made a squeaking noise 
when I took a pace into the three hundred and eighty seven year old 
house. The surrounding area was covered with Cobwebs. Spiders were 
crawling on them eerily. The door abruptly banged behind me with a loud 
thud. I dashed towards the door, deciding to leave the scary house as 
soon as possible. Unfortunately, despite my hard efforts, the door did 
not budge. Downhearted, I turned around and looked for another exit. 

While I was searching, I espied a painting that was hanging on the wall.
It was a picture of a young man with long hair. He wore a red shirt, 
black trousers and a black hat. The sadness I saw from his face and the 
amazing blue eyes made the man in the picture look strangely familiar. 
I kept gazing at his phenomenal eyes, curious about why he looked so 
familiar.  Instantaneously, I remembered who he was.  He was Dr. David 
Johnson, the famous scientist who died in 1666. My science teacher had 
shown me his picture a week before. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” I heard a man's voice from behind.
This nearly stumbled me to the floor. I turned around and saw a man 
standing just a few feet away from me.  I recognized him immediately. I 
had no doubt that it was Dr. Johnson. He was wearing the same shirt, 
trousers and hat as in the picture. I was stunned but not for long. 
Just as I was about to run, the fact that the door couldn't be opened, 
flashed into my mind. “Who are you and what do you want?” repeated the 
man. He spoke in a stern voice this time. “My name is Michael Robinson 
and I'm keen to explore this house. You must be Dr. David Johnson, Sir” 
I answered shakily. “Indeed, you are right. I am Dr. Johnson. Let's go 
sit by the fireplace to have a talk” I followed him and took the seat 
next to him. 

“Can I ask you a question, sir?” I spoke as soon as we settled down
comfortably. “Go ahead.” Dr. Johnson replied. “Could you tell me why 
you always look gloomy?” I inquired. “Well, as you must know, I was an 
orphan. My parents passed away when I was eleven and I was brought up 
by my Uncle George who was a scientist. I used to read his books and 
observe when he did his experiments. He would explain me things that I 
didn't understand. In 1618, when I succeeded in inventing the 
microscope after numerous failed endeavors, I became famous. Well, no 
one actually liked me. No one truly believed in me. No one actually 
loved me for who I am. Except Uncle George, that is. The others just 
liked my invention. They loved the microscope I invented. Not me.” 

“Well, I like you. I've been fond of you since my science teacher showed
me your picture. I truly admire you for who you are and that's why I'm 
here. I want to gain as much information as I could about you. In fact, 
I want to follow your footsteps. I want to be just like you. Try until 
I succeed just like you did.” I don't know why, but those words just 
came out from my mouth. Slowly, tears of joy flowed down the ghost's 
cheeks. That was when I realized that ghosts can cry too. 


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