Prompt: Write about a person who meets with the ghost of an old friend for tea every so often. Shep hiked his rucksack further up his back and started the five mile walk to the abandoned cabin, set deep in the Briscoln Wood. He couldn't remember when he'd first come upon the cabin, which was more like a glorified shack, held together by sheer force of nature. He did remember how shocked he'd felt when he'd found out it was haunted though. He reached his destination just as the sun sunk below the tree line, giving the cabin a foreboding air. He wasn't worried though. The cabin may have been haunted, but he knew the haunter and how much they disliked the "others" disturbing their guests. The cabin was in shambles and squirrels darted out of their hidey-holes as Shep made himself comfortable. The only set of furniture that was usable was a little table with two rickety chairs. He busied himself with setting the table with the battered tea set from his rucksac...
