I remember a hilarious story my grandmother once told me. About the time her friends came over for an evening of ghostly tales. Mavis, Angie, Chrystal and Anne loved telling spooky stories and dredging up the creepiest anecdotes to while away the dreary winter nights.

It was great fun, my grandmother recounted, as they sat around the fireplace. On this particular night, it seemed that Chrystal had a few hair-raising stories up her sleeve. She had everyone scared by the time the evening came to an end.

As usual, grandma offered to walk her friends halfway home, especially since they dreaded the thought of passing through the graveyard, alone. Halfway through the graveyard, Mavis suddenly shrieked and pointed, white-faced, in the direction of what looked like a pale ghostly figure, floating in mid-air amidst some funny-freaky sounds. Since everyone was already jumpy they immediately assumed that it had to be a ghost for sure. Each one turned around and ran in all directions to hide behind the bushes. An eerie silence filled the air for some time as each one hid away; scared of what was out there.

Then the laughter came!

It was grandma, who had bravely peeked out from behind her little bush, to have a better look at the pale creature. Only then she realised that it was no ghost. The wind had picked up a white sheet and draped it perfectly over one of the taller tombstones. The flapping of the cloth made it seem like a floating object and the freaky sounds was only the wind sneaking through the highest trees and surrounding buildings.