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Authors: Cindy Miles
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Working in downtown Savannah and surrounded by so many ghost tours she couldn’t count them, Emma, while loving a good ghost tale just as much as the next person, hardly actually
believed
in them. The Gray Lady. The White Lady. The Lady in Black. That was …
She took several bites of egg.
Crazy.
That’s what it was. Cuckoo. Just fun stuff made up and passed along from generation to generation, merely to entertain. She confessed she loved them herself—even if for nostalgic purposes. But to actually
believe
in them?
After she’d eaten everything the sisters had prepared, Emma ran back to her room, brushed her teeth, gathered her camera bag and rain poncho, and headed out. The Ballasters waved good-bye at the door.
Shaking her head, Emma stepped out into the crisp morning. No sun, but a little less mist, she noticed as she made her way to the ruins. If the rain held off, she planned to head into the village of Arrick after taking a few more pictures there.
After Emma had set up in the courtyard, a thought crossed her mind. She felt like an idiot. She glanced around to make sure no one saw or heard her.
“Um, Mr. Arrick?” she said, hesitantly at first. “Hello?”
She waited. Nothing happened.
With a laugh, Emma shook her head and continued her shoot. Whoever the cute guy was, he apparently had decided to leave her alone. Maybe her dangling off the twenty-foot steps scared him a little? Just maybe he wasn’t such an ogre as to see her get hurt.
The lighting gave a haunting, surreal look to the stark gray of the castle stone, and she took several photos of the wall, the steps, and the gatehouse. Next, she walked into the main building. The
keep,
she’d been told. Very medieval. And
perfect.
Funny, she’d never been drawn to the medieval period before. The era fascinated her now.
The keep actually was in great condition. An enormous hearth large enough to put a car in stood against one wall. Instead of one large set of steps, there were four sets of narrow spiral stone steps leading to the upper floors—one in each corner of the keep. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Emma headed toward the steps closest to the hearth. She wasn’t sure she should test the dark and shadowy steps. The sisters had told her they were safe enough, and would take her to the very top. They’d claimed a gorgeous view from that particular area of the keep, so with a gusty sigh, Emma started the climb.
“I thought I told you to leave.”
Foot in air, hovering over the first step, Emma froze. It was the same voice—she’d never forget a buttery voice like that. Instinctively, and less frightened this time, she turned her head.
She wasn’t the least surprised to find nothing there.
An absurd thought crossed her mind.
Could there actually be truth to the sisters’ tale?
Emma cleared her throat. “Are, uh, you Mr. Arrick?”
Silence at first, then the deep voice deepened even more. “This place is dangerous. You should leave at once.”
Hairs rose on Emma’s neck and arms.
A voice was speaking, but no one was around!
Could it be anything
but
a ghost? The ghost of whom? The word itself sounded ridiculous. But … what else could it be?
Again, she cleared her throat and half turned, facing the keep’s main floor. “I should leave Arrick-by-the-Sea?”
Silence stretched out again. “Nay. Wales.”
He wanted her to leave the country? Surprised by her lack of actual fear, despite the absurdity of her talking to the empty air, Emma shifted her camera bag and quirked her head. “Why won’t you show yourself again?”
She stood there for several minutes before realizing her ghost had said all he’d planned on saying. For the time being, anyway.
Placing her foot on the first step, Emma immediately stopped her ascent. An eerie sound came from the entrance of the keep. She turned, and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes stretched wide and her knees turned rubbery.
In what used to be the doorway stood an enormous
Working in downtown Savannah and surrounded by so many ghost tours she couldn’t count them, Emma, while loving a good ghost tale just as much as the next person, hardly actually
believed
in them. The Gray Lady. The White Lady. The Lady in Black. That was …
She took several bites of egg.
Crazy.
That’s what it was. Cuckoo. Just fun stuff made up and passed along from generation to generation, merely to entertain. She confessed she loved them herself—even if for nostalgic purposes. But to actually
believe
in them?
After she’d eaten everything the sisters had prepared, Emma ran back to her room, brushed her teeth, gathered her camera bag and rain poncho, and headed out. The Ballasters waved good-bye at the door.
Shaking her head, Emma stepped out into the crisp morning. No sun, but a little less mist, she noticed as she made her way to the ruins. If the rain held off, she planned to head into the village of Arrick after taking a few more pictures there.
After Emma had set up in the courtyard, a thought crossed her mind. She felt like an idiot. She glanced around to make sure no one saw or heard her.
“Um, Mr. Arrick?” she said, hesitantly at first. “Hello?”
She waited. Nothing happened.
With a laugh, Emma shook her head and continued her shoot. Whoever the cute guy was, he apparently had decided to leave her alone. Maybe her dangling off the twenty-foot steps scared him a little? Just maybe he wasn’t such an ogre as to see her get hurt.
The lighting gave a haunting, surreal look to the stark gray of the castle stone, and she took several photos of the wall, the steps, and the gatehouse. Next, she walked into the main building. The
keep,
she’d been told. Very medieval. And
perfect.
Funny, she’d never been drawn to the medieval period before. The era fascinated her now.
The keep actually was in great condition. An enormous hearth large enough to put a car in stood against one wall. Instead of one large set of steps, there were four sets of narrow spiral stone steps leading to the upper floors—one in each corner of the keep. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Emma headed toward the steps closest to the hearth. She wasn’t sure she should test the dark and shadowy steps. The sisters had told her they were safe enough, and would take her to the very top. They’d claimed a gorgeous view from that particular area of the keep, so with a gusty sigh, Emma started the climb.
“I thought I told you to leave.”
Foot in air, hovering over the first step, Emma froze. It was the same voice—she’d never forget a buttery voice like that. Instinctively, and less frightened this time, she turned her head.
She wasn’t the least surprised to find nothing there.
An absurd thought crossed her mind.
Could there actually be truth to the sisters’ tale?
Emma cleared her throat. “Are, uh, you Mr. Arrick?”
Silence at first, then the deep voice deepened even more. “This place is dangerous. You should leave at once.”
Hairs rose on Emma’s neck and arms.
A voice was speaking, but no one was around!
Could it be anything
but
a ghost? The ghost of whom? The word itself sounded ridiculous. But … what else could it be?
Again, she cleared her throat and half turned, facing the keep’s main floor. “I should leave Arrick-by-the-Sea?”
Silence stretched out again. “Nay. Wales.”
He wanted her to leave the country? Surprised by her lack of actual fear, despite the absurdity of her talking to the empty air, Emma shifted her camera bag and quirked her head. “Why won’t you show yourself again?”
She stood there for several minutes before realizing her ghost had said all he’d planned on saying. For the time being, anyway.
Placing her foot on the first step, Emma immediately stopped her ascent. An eerie sound came from the entrance of the keep. She turned, and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes stretched wide and her knees turned rubbery.
In what used to be the doorway stood an enormous