Dark Hollows. Steve Frech
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“And I was right! I just knew it!”
“I’m sorry. I’m still confused. You’re saying you saw a ghost … here?”
She playfully slaps my wrist. “Oh, don’t sound so surprised. You knew. I could tell you knew there was a ghost here when we met, yesterday.”
I glance at Franklin. He shrugs, indicating that I should play along.
“Really? So, uh, what happened?” I ask.
“Well, in the middle of the night, I thought I heard something outside by the door. Franklin heard it, too. Didn’t you, Franklin?”
“Yes, but I—”
“He thought it was deer or something, so he didn’t get up, but I knew. I told you, I have a psychic feel for these things.” She taps her temple for emphasis. “So, I got up and went to the living room, and there she was, standing just off the porch by the front door! She was looking right at me!”
My mouth is dry. My lungs aren’t working properly, and I’m trying desperately to hide it from her.
“She?” I ask.
“Yes! It was a woman ghost!”
“That’s—that’s incredible.”
“I know! Incredible! She was right there!” she says, pointing to a spot near the fire pit.
“So, um, wh—what happened?”
“Well, we stared at one another for a few seconds, and then she smiled at me, and started walking towards the woods. I yelled at Franklin to get up. I yelled, ‘Franklin, get up! You need to see this!’ Didn’t I, Franklin? Didn’t I yell for you to get up?”
“Yes, you did—”
“But he didn’t get up, did you, Franklin?”
“No, I d—”
“He didn’t get up. So, I ran outside and, well, I don’t run so fast,” she says, patting her hip, “and by the time I got out onto the porch, I just caught a glimpse of her as she walked into the trees.” She points again, this time to the path behind the cottage, leading off into the woods to The Sanctuary.
“That’s amazing,” I croak. My throat feels like sandpaper. “What did she look like?”
“Oh, she was beautiful. She was tall, with long red hair, and these really blue eyes. She wore a cloak. And, I’m not sure, but it looked like she had a scar, here, just above her eye.”
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