My Greek Vacation

This story is a Squeal to a story inspire by Adam Ickes’s Storybook Corner Prompt. My Short story entry was Just Like Me. This short story is what happened next.


The plane flight to Greece was uneventful. I explained the dangers of a hunted plane. So they were good. Ah, but after I checked into my room …

It was a 17th Century castle that had been somewhat modernized with 62 bathrooms.

No sooner had I checked in, when the toilets began to flush randomly. When they all flushed simultaneously, it sounded like a windstorm passing though a canyon.

Even though it was 94F (34C) outside, the 72 fireplaces spontaneously light up – without kindling. The staff went crazy trying to douse all the fires out. They keep reigniting.

It took a couple of days for my friends to settle down and the fires to truly go out, but they had a fixation with the toilets.

The castle didn’t have air-conditioning. Right after I mentioned that the place was little stuffy, a breeze moved throughout the inside of the castle strong enough to ruffle hair, skirts and a more than a few nerves.

When it was discovered that my toilet didn’t randomly flush and my fireplace had never been on and my room was a comfortable 84F (20C), I was asked to leave.

I found a small villa and threatened my friends. “If we get kicked out of this place, we’re going home.”

They promised to behave.

But the owner became indigent when I asked for only one room.

“How many will be staying in this room?” the old women demanded.

“Just me,” I honestly said.

“I will rent you three rooms,” she loudly declared. “One for each of you.”

“Each of us?” I was shocked.

I turned on my friends.

“It’s not us. We did nothing.”

I believed them. They were similarly puzzled.

“Mother.” A man in his early thirties entered the room. “Take a closer look,” he calmly said.

The old woman, blinked several times, took her glasses off, gave then good cleaning, put them back on, and leaned forward to get a better look.

“Oh!” she said in surprise. “One room it is.”

“She can see us?” my ghost friends asked.

“Of course,” she said apologetically. “I am old. Sometimes, I get the dead mixed up with the living.”

She was a witch. Her son also had the sight, but not the magic powers.

Because of my friends, I got a free room.

The old woman didn’t usually like her son’s girl friends, but I had ghosts for friends. She encouraged our relationship.

She took the ghosts for long walks through the village. She had them haunt various homes, for the fun of it, some out of spite.

Seems the town didn’t have her brand of humor. They wanted her, me and my ghosts out of town.

I didn’t see much of Greece, but there are now five us running the bed and breakfast and plenty of visitors who love our brand of humor.

And the next time I went on vacation, he and I left the ghosts at home with his mother.

 The End


This is now a longer short story “My Haunted Bed & Breakfast” published on Kindle.


This blog is also posted on my facebook page: Phyllis Moore’s Myths.

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