Hello there, Story Club members.

I'm Ivy, your ghostly host with the most and keeper of the strangest, spookiest tales on earth.

Today is another Ivy's chilling tale.

This ghostly account, Story Club club members might make you stay away from

cursed farms forever. It's one I call haunted barn blues. So one day in late August, I heard

about some ghostly activity coming from the old Ruther's place.

While hanging out at Lance Jackson's house, I asked my friend if he wanted to go and check it out.

My other besties, Willow Yates and Autumn Nash, had left our town of Grimsbridge, Washington, and headed down to Astoria, Oregon for a little beach time.

I was super envious, but Willow's parents didn't want to take, quote, a bunch of screaming

sixth graders.

So Autumn was the one who won the Rock Paper Cissors game we all did to compete for the seat.

Though I missed my friends, I envied their sudden fun time on the Oregon coast.

I kept in close contact with them via text and Instagram. Let's check it

out, Lance. He was feeding his pet mouse, Hans told her, some fresh mealworms. A haunted barn,

I've heard of haunted houses, haunted hotels, and even haunted chefs. But who exactly haunts a barn?

Um, the farmer in the dell from hell, I laughed.

Come on, don't be such a stick in the mud.

Let's go check it out, Lance.

Oh, and bring all of your nerdy equipment so we can sniff out a spirit.

I beg your pardon?

Thermal imagers and voice recorders are not nerdy.

Ha ha, if you say so, Lance.

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