The Spectral Visitor

It was a dark and stormy night, and the winds howled as if they were alive. The rain beat against the windows of the old mansion, making it creak and groan with each gust of wind. The house had been abandoned for years, and it was rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a woman who had died there many years ago.

I was a young journalist, eager to write a story that would get me noticed. And what better story to write than one about a haunted house? I arrived at the mansion just as the storm was starting to break. The rain was coming down in sheets, and I could barely see a few feet in front of me. But I was determined to explore the house and write my story.

As I approached the front door, I noticed that it was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, and a gust of wind sent it crashing against the wall. I stepped inside and my heart started racing. The house was dark and creepy, and I could hear strange noises coming from upstairs. I cautiously made my way to the living room, where I found a fireplace still lit, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

I decided to explore the upper floors of the house, hoping to find something that would make a good story. As I climbed the stairs, I could hear the sound of footsteps coming from the second floor. I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized that I was not alone in the house.

I reached the second floor and cautiously made my way down the hall. The footsteps grew louder, and I could hear a faint whisper, as if someone was trying to speak. I reached the end of the hall and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. And there she was, the ghostly woman.

She was floating in mid-air, her long white dress billowing in the wind. Her eyes were fixed on me, and I could see the pain and anger in them. I felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move. And then she spoke.

"Get out of this house," she said, her voice filled with anger. "You have no right to be here. Leave now, before it's too late."

I tried to move, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. And then, as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone. I stumbled back, tripped over a chair, and fell to the floor. And that's when I realized that I was not alone in the room.

There were two other ghosts in the room, and they were both staring at me. They were both women, dressed in Victorian-style clothing. And they were both angry.

"Get out of this house," they said in unison. "You have no right to be here. Leave now, before it's too late."

I scrambled to my feet and ran out of the room. I ran down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door. I ran through the rain, not stopping until I was back in my car. I sat there, gasping for air, my heart pounding in my chest.

I never went back to that house. I never wrote my story. And I never forgot the ghostly women and the anger in their eyes. To this day, I still wonder what happened to them and why they are still trapped in that haunted house.

Years went by, and I had almost forgotten about the haunted house. But one day, I received a call from a young woman who was searching for information about the mansion. She was the daughter of the previous owner, and she was trying to track down the history of the house.

I agreed to meet her, and we went to the house together. As we approached, I felt a chill run down my spine. The house was just as creepy and abandoned as it had been all those years ago. But the young woman seemed undeterred, and she pushed open the front door.

We stepped inside, and I immediately felt a sense of unease. The house was silent, except for the sound of our footsteps echoing through the empty rooms. The young woman led the way, searching for any information about her family's history in the house.

As we reached the second floor, I could hear the sound of footsteps coming from the master bedroom. My heart started racing, and I tried to turn back, but the young woman was already heading towards the room. I reluctantly followed her, and we stepped inside.

The room was just as I remembered it. The same ghostly woman was floating in mid-air, her eyes fixed on us. And then, to my surprise, she spoke.

"I have been waiting for you," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I have a story to tell, a story that has been waiting to be heard for far too long."

The young woman stepped forward, and the ghost began to speak. She told the story of how she and her two sisters had lived in the house many years ago. They were wealthy, but unhappy, and they had each fallen in love with the same man. The man had promised to marry one of them, but he had broken his promise and left them all, leaving them to face the consequences of their actions alone.

The three sisters had turned on each other, filled with anger and jealousy. And in the end, they had each taken their own lives, unable to bear the pain of their broken hearts.

The ghostly woman finished her story, and I could see the tears in her eyes. And then she turned to the young woman.

"Your family was responsible for our deaths," she said. "And now, it is time for you to right the wrongs of the past."

The young woman stepped forward, and the ghostly woman reached out and touched her forehead. And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. The young woman and I stepped back, stunned by what had just happened.

We left the house, and the young woman told me that she had felt a sense of peace and closure after her encounter with the ghost. And as we walked away, I realized that the story of the haunted house was finally complete, and that the ghostly women had finally found the peace that had eluded them for so long.