Personal Narrative-In The Shandow

In the Shandows
In a worn in leather passenger seat I was looking through the rolled down window. A warm summer breeze was entering the beat up green ford truck. The radio was softly playing “Blue Moon “by Elvis. Outside it was early evening and the sun was setting a lovely color of oranges and reds, it was a blissful day in along the seaside of North Carolina. In my lap was my partner in crime, little Bowie. The small Scottish terrier was sprawled out and looked like he was in a deep beauty sleep, but he always sleeps to songs from Elvis. My uncle Terrance and me were the ghost wranglers. We even made matching screen printed jackets with a ghost that was swinging a rodeo rope. On our backs. Last week my Uncle answered a call from the police of the town of Eerie. A lot of police that we have met were skeptic of the existence of supernatural spirits. The policemen that called us said that some gruesome scenes were occurring frequently from teens getting killed in an old abandoned
“Why is that there? Seems like an odd thing to have in a lost asylum?” I questioned. “ Well, there’s only one way to find out. Crack that damn door open!” My uncle went to the iron black door and started to run into the door with all of his body weight. The door did nto budge. He started over and as he was going to run into the door. I heard a feint giggle of a small kid.
“Uncle!” I yelled but it was too late as he ran into the door. The door whipped open and my uncle hit the stone floor with a thud and an explosion of dust covered his black denim jacket. He got up fom the floor and took off his jacket and gave it a quick whip to get the dust off.
“Guessing they never ha d a guest over.”He coughed, as he used his fingers to form the word HI in the dust that was on the floor. Bowie was barking and scampered all over the