Ghostly

Ghostly
It was the swing that was cursed.
         Jamie realised this the moment he approached it. It creaked at him menacingly, rocking slowly
in the deathly still air.
         He was not paid enough for this.
         Sitting down on the low, splintered fence parallel to the rusty metal set, he took a deep breath and spoke;
         “You’ve been here a while, then?”
         The swing squeaked in response, the slow squeak of neglect.
         Might as well test my luck, he thought.
         “The family that own this park need you to leave.”
         The swing didn’t like that. It dragged itself up, the piercing noise it made an obvious NO.
         Jamie looked around at the abandoned playpark. Because of this ghost, no one wanted to come to the place, leaving it a rusted shell of what it used to be.
         “You played here, didn’t you?”
         The swing ghost seemed to agree, raising its crusty metal perch slightly. Jamie saw an opportunity approaching and took it.
         “So you like this place?”
         The swing shook violently, ricocheting off of steel bars, thuds of metal heavy in the lithe air. Jamie frowned and thought of the £13 bonus for this job. He needed that money for rent – landlords used any excuse to kick out ghost-homers – but angry ghosts annoyed him so much at midnight.
         The dusky air fell silent and the lone street light flickered, light coughing across the concrete.
         “Why stay then?”
         There was more silence – a thinking silence, mostly – and then, the swing fell limply down.
         Jamie waited for a moment, in syrupy suspense; finally, he stood.
         “That was easy…” He mused, as a cold grip clutched his hand.
        A familiar feeling.
        “You want to come with me?”
      Jamie could feel the nod
      Well, He thought, guess the others just got a friend…