07/13/2026
The Haunted Bathroom
Everyone in my family warned me never to use the old bathroom after midnight.
“It’s haunted,” Grandma whispered.
Naturally, at 12:01, I grabbed my flashlight and marched inside.
The door slammed behind me.
The lights flickered.
A ghostly voice echoed, “Leeeeave…”
I laughed. “Nice try.”
The toilet flushed by itself.
My confidence disappeared.
Then the shower curtain slowly slid open.
Nothing.
Suddenly, a pale figure rose from the bathtub wearing a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.
“I’m the Bathroom Ghost,” he sighed. “Could you keep it down? I’m trying to relax.”
I blinked.
“You haunt people?”
“Only on weekends,” he groaned. “The rest of the week your family keeps eating chili, and this place becomes unlivable.”
Before I could answer, another ghost floated through the mirror holding a can of air freshener.
“Frank,” she snapped, “they did taco night again!”
The Bathroom Ghost buried his face in his hands.
“I told them beans were cursed.”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
He pointed toward the door.
“Go. Please. And tell your grandmother to switch brands of hot sauce.”
As I ran away, I heard one final flush.
It wasn’t supernatural.
Grandpa had been hiding in the laundry room the whole time, laughing harder than the ghosts.