CoffeeShop Blues: 2015 Traveler's Edition - Page 11

Jeremy Frost The abrupt whines of a child startled me. The mysterious cry formed goose bumps on my skin. With quaking hands, I lit the candle on the table next to my bed. It was exactly twelve o’clock. Several beads of perspiration began to form on my forehead. And, an unknown fear paralyzed me. I cried in panic, “Please help. Help! ” My parents scurried from the next room. “What’s the matter dear? Why are you screaming like this? Is anything wrong?” I told my parents about the events over the past couple of days. They furrowed their eyes and exchanged their glances. My dad said, “My little girl, be steady. We cannot hear any outcry as you have described to us. It must be your crazy whim. Be courageous, my darling.” “Dad, believe me. Please believe me. It is not any illusion or caprice. It is an austere truth. This house is haunted.” My dad embraced me with both his hands. My mother said, “Everything is going to be fine sweetie. Stop reading ghost stories for now and clear your mind of those things. Good night. Sleep tight.”She placed her tender hands on my head and they went away. I heaved a sigh of relief and soon fell asleep. The tangerine sun splintered the glass and its lurid glare at me shook me up from the bed. It was the fourth day and according to our schedule, we had completed our routine itinerary. After gulping down my dinner, I stomped into my bed and fell asleep. The clinking of the wind chimes perplexed me, so I lit the candle and squinted to see the clock. Once again it was exactly twelve o’clock. A chill swept down my whole body and almost shook my bones. I tried not to disturb my parents. By this time I had a hunch that this house was spooky, and there was some evil spirit lurking inside it. It also came into my mind that this spirit for some reason or the other had decided to visit me, make me its victim and had not chosen my parents. 11