A Haunted House

No matter what time you woke up, a door was closing. They moved from room to room while holding hands, lifting objects here and there, and ensuring that spectral pair.

We left it here, she said. Yes, but here tool, he continued. She mumbled, "It's upstairs. He hushed, "And in the garden. They warned, "Quietly, or we'll wake them,"

It wasn't you waking us up, though. Oh no, one might reply, "They're looking for it; they're drawing the curtain," and continue reading for one or two pages. One would be convinced, halting the pencil in the margin, "Now they've found it.

The house would then be completely vacant, the doors would be open, and the only sounds would be the buzz of the threshing machine coming from the farm, and a reader who was sick of reading may go up and see for themselves.

"Why did I enter this room? What did I want to discover? My palms were bare. Maybe it's upstairs then. The loft contained the apples. So, down again, the garden as quiet as usual, with the exception that the book had vanished into the grass.

Nevertheless, they had discovered it in the living room. Nevertheless, nobody could ever see them. Apples and roses reflected in the windowpanes, and all of the foliage appeared green in the glass. The apple would only change to its yellow side if they moved in the drawing room. Nevertheless, if the door were to be opened right away, what would be on the floor, hanging from the walls, and suspended from the ceiling? My palms were bare. A thrush's shadow moved across the carpet, and a wood pigeon's sound bubble emerged from the quietest places. "Safe, safe, safe," was the softly beating heart of the home. When the person said, "The wealth buried; the room," their heart briefly stopped. Was that the lost riches, I wonder?

The light had vanished a little while afterwards. then outside in the garden? But despite a stray sunbeam, the woods cast darkness in their place. The beam I was looking for was always burning behind the glass, so fine, so uncommon, and coolly buried beneath the surface.

Death was the glass; death was between us; it first affected the woman hundreds of years ago; after departing, all the windows were sealed, and the rooms were made gloomy. He left it and her behind, travelled north and east, observed the stars reversing in the southern sky, went in search of the house, and discovered it buried beneath the Downs. "Safe, safe, safe," the home sang happily. You own the Treasure.

The avenue is swept up by the wind. Trees stoop and bend in different directions. In the downpour, moonbeams spill and splash madly. Yet, the lamp's beam comes directly out of the window. The candle's flame is rigid and unmoving. The ghostly pair searches for happiness by wandering about the home, opening the windows, and whispering not to wake us.

We slept here, she says. "Kisses without number," he continues. 'Upstairs' 'In the garden' 'When summer came' 'In winter snowtime' 'Waking in the morning' 'Silver amongst the trees' The doors gently knock as they close in the distance, like a heartbeat.

When they get closer, they stop at the doorway. As the rain and wind blow, silver drips from the glass. Our eyes get dim, we hear no footsteps next to us, and no woman spreads her eerie robe. The lantern is hid by his hands. He exhales, "Look. "Totally sleeping. On their lips was love."

They look long and intently while stooping and holding their silver lamp above us. They pause for a while. The flame stoops slightly while the wind blows straight. Wild moonlight beams cross the floor and the wall and, when they come together, stain the bent, contemplative, and searching faces of the sleeping people in quest of their secret delight.

"Secure, safe, safe," the heart of the house beats proudly. Many years, he murmurs. "You found me again," "Here, sleeping, reading in the yard, laughing, and rolling apples in the loft, she murmurs. We left our valuables here " As I stoop, their light lifts my eyelids. "Safe! safe! safe!" the pulse of the home pulses fiercely. I sob as I awake "Is this your hidden treasure, I wonder? the heart's inner brightness."