The Old McCreedy Place

A traveling salesman found himself driving in the middle of nowhere one night. Long after dark had fallen, he had still yet to see any sign of life, and he was getting very tired after a long day going door to door, trying to unload some encyclopedia sets. Just when he thought he was going to have an accident, he saw the lights of a lone farmhouse, set deep into a field of corn. As he drove up to the small ramshackle building, he got an eerie feeling, but it was the only place he’d seen in almost a hundred miles, and he did not know the area at all. After knocking a few times, he heard a voice beckon him inside. The door let into a cozy kitchen, and a woman was busy preparing a delicious smelling dinner at the stove. The salesman excused himself for the intrusion, but explained his dire situation. The woman just smiled at him, and invited the salesman to join her for her repast. It had been a long time since she’d had company, she told him, and it was a welcome change from the usual lonely silence. After eating, the woman invited the salesman to sleep on the sofa. He was reluctant to accept, but did not see any other options. He graciously accepted the woman’s kindness. After he had fallen asleep, the man was awoken by the woman, come to him in the night, naked and luminescent. At dawn, while all was quiet and still in the house, he awoke, alone, and quietly let himself out of the house. He stopped at the first roadside diner he spotted, and took a stool at the counter. As he was waiting for his food, he told the waitress about his late night jitters, and the kind woman who gave him room and board. The waitress grew very quiet, as did the other man at the counter. Both exchanged glances. The salesman did not understand the mystery, and asked them why they looked so scared. “That was the old McCreedy place,” the waitress said. The name registered with the salesman, who remembered seeing it on the mailbox as he drove up the dirt path to the house. “But that house is abandoned, and Ms. McCreedy has been dead for ten years,” the waitress said. The air in the roadside diner grew still. Slowly, with a shaking hand, the salesman took a sip of his coffee. “Well,” he said, “I’ll tell you one thing, that ghost likes to fuck. A lot. I’m chafed raw.”

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