The Ghost In the cottage

The ghost in the cottage

Furious Fiction
First sentence must be 3 words exactly. Story must have a “first” and a candle. Must be less than 500 words. Due 72 hours from 8am Sydney AU Time on 2/1/19

Keira is afraid.

Something is pounding on the walls of the cottage outside, like the fist of an angry giant; insistent, demanding to be let in. There is a ghost outside as well, trying to squeeze in through the window. Candle light flickers on the window pane, and in it Keira can see her reflection, a four year old girl as pale as the ghost she imagines. Outside she can see trees, like monsters, looming and swaying in the wind. Knocking on the walls of the cottage. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Keira huddles in her overstuffed chair, clutches the thick sheepskin to her pounding chest as if it offers dear life. The ghost squeals like a banshee, wailing and screeching through the space between the wall and the window, and Keira feels like screaming in turn.

Mum had told her about banshees. Whispered yarns told by the dim light of a smoking peat fire; after supper was finished and the dishes put away. Da would scoff and tell Mum not to go on with such nonsense; “why frighten the wee lass with yer tales?”

The banshee screeches again, a deep keening sound that reverberates throughout the cottage. It reminds Keira of the awful wailing her Da had made, when the spirits had come for Mum at the first hint of spring. Had taken Mum and the babe to be with God in heaven above.

And now it seems they have come for Keira.

Her tummy clenches, roiling against the awful porridge Da had made her eat for supper. She is tired, but too frightened to sleep. She knows she is supposed to climb up to her bed in the loft, but she wants her Da. Wants him to come carry her in his strong, protective arms and reassure her that all will be well. Keira pulls the sheepskin up over her shoulders, shivering, and chewing on the frayed ends of her braid.

Suddenly, the candle is snuffed out and the cottage plunges into darkness. The door flies open with a gust of wind and rain. A dark billowy figure looms in the doorway, as if hovering in the space between the realm of the living and the dead. Keira screams in panic, certain that death has come to claim her. She finds herself frozen in terror as the apparition approaches; screams again as its icy fingers reach under the sheepskin and touches her skin. She feels herself raised in the air, and thinks her heart might burst from her chest, so fast does it beat.

“Shh, lass, shh,” a familiar voice cooes, and somehow she is in her Da’s arms, and he smells like horse and sweat and peat, earthy living smells that send the ghosts away, as her Da murmurs reassuring words in her ear and carries Keira up to her bed in the loft.