Every time she left us, we’d all feel morose and absent. Conversations would fade away and our lives turned dull and pointless.
Our mansion seemed an empty shell. The drawers within the large chest remained shut, chairs would wait motionless in their appointed places around the large table in the lounge, no plate would accidentally fall out of place and break into pieces; room lights wouldn’t flicker either.
At some point we’d all gather and perform Ouija sessions to ask her when she’d be back. “Let me rest in peace”, was all we could read upon the wooden board when we pleaded in vain.
And so it had been already for more than five years’ time since she passed away. However, we knew only too well that she would show when the colourful bunch of flowers by her tombstone withered. A remarkable character from cradle to grave.
Un comentario sobre “Ghosts by Jorge Aldegunde”
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Not that creepy…
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