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My Uncle's Ghost
England, 1870.
It was a very stormy night. I tossed and turned once again in my bed. The rain fell in great torrents outside my window, and it seemed to be the cause of my restlessness.
I opened my eyes to my dark room; the occasional flash of lightening, and sound of thunder gave an eerie air around me. For some unknown reason, a terrible feeling plauged me, and yet, I could not begin to phantom it.
Feeling tired of forcing myself to sleep, I decided to get out to bed to do some reading. I lighted an oil lamp beside my bed, and putting on my slippers, I left my room.
Walking down the seemingly endless dark corridors of the house, I felt like a tiny spectre roaming the silent halls of my home. Only the lantern I held gave a source of illumination to the dark, wide space around me.
Reaching the library, I entered the large room, which was filled with books at every corner. I smiled in contentment; at the place where I could recall so many cherished memories of wonderful stories.
I selected a book and sat down to enjoy it, but after reading a few lines, my mind began to wander. The terrible feeling of foreboding seemed to have surfaced once again, and I felt restless. I began to worry about uncle; whether he was well wherever he was.
Oftentimes, he goes away on business and doesn't return for weeks. I have often begged him to take me with him to his trips, but he always promised he would do so in the...
It was a very stormy night. I tossed and turned once again in my bed. The rain fell in great torrents outside my window, and it seemed to be the cause of my restlessness.
I opened my eyes to my dark room; the occasional flash of lightening, and sound of thunder gave an eerie air around me. For some unknown reason, a terrible feeling plauged me, and yet, I could not begin to phantom it.
Feeling tired of forcing myself to sleep, I decided to get out to bed to do some reading. I lighted an oil lamp beside my bed, and putting on my slippers, I left my room.
Walking down the seemingly endless dark corridors of the house, I felt like a tiny spectre roaming the silent halls of my home. Only the lantern I held gave a source of illumination to the dark, wide space around me.
Reaching the library, I entered the large room, which was filled with books at every corner. I smiled in contentment; at the place where I could recall so many cherished memories of wonderful stories.
I selected a book and sat down to enjoy it, but after reading a few lines, my mind began to wander. The terrible feeling of foreboding seemed to have surfaced once again, and I felt restless. I began to worry about uncle; whether he was well wherever he was.
Oftentimes, he goes away on business and doesn't return for weeks. I have often begged him to take me with him to his trips, but he always promised he would do so in the...
