Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 65

manage?”

from my trip from Italy, and I need to rest.”

Trying not to become offended when he eyed
my bad leg, I politely replied, “Yes, I’ll do fine on my
own.”

“Wish I could, my lord,” she nervously replied.
“Melinda, I told you before...” I softly scolded.
“You may call me Devon. None of this lord nonsense
is necessary.”

As I opened the large stone and wood doors
with my newly chiselled key, the memories came
flooding back. In my mind, I saw my old, beloved
black dog named Rider. He jumped up on my stillhealthy twelve-year-old legs and licked my face. As I
took in a deep breath, I sighed in melancholia. He was
such a good boy, I told myself as I slowly brought in
my heavy bags.

“Sorry, my… er, Devon, sir.”

The war had taken its toll on my body, and it
had also affected my heart and mind. I just wasn’t the
same man I was before I bravely, and perhaps, naively
enlisted. However, I was currently determined to save
my family’s estate from ruin, and assessing its damage
with my own eyes was the first step. Besides, my
doctor had been pressing me to take some time to rest.
I figured I could kill two birds with one stone.
I wasn’t prepared for what lay ahead of me,
though. That evening, I had just finished dinner and
was settled for the night when I heard a disturbing
sound coming from the first floor. It sounded as if a
woman was screaming, and it shook me to the core.
How could I possibly sleep? However, it was too
much of a bother for me to walk all the way down the
lengthy staircase, so I pulled on the hanging bell by
my bed. A few minutes later, my young maid came to
ask what was the matter.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Melinda,” I said
while standing at my door in my burgundy robe and a
small candelabra in my right hand, “but do you hear
that strange wailing noise?”
She instantly blushed and shyly replied, “Oh,
that… aye.”
Her odd reaction gave me cause to prod
further. “You know who is making that noise then?
Whomever it is, or whatever is causing her to scream,
can you please tell her to stop? I am quite exhausted

I sighed and smirked at the young maid with
brown curls in front of me. She was quite attractive,
but I was not about to flirt with her, or anyone for that
matter. Not only was it wildly inappropriate, but I had
had my fill of young girls in Italy. It was a decadelong, flesh-oriented distraction and a waste of time.
I knew full well the truth: nothing would be able to
fulfil my heart, not since I lost my true love at the age
of eighteen. Her name was Mary, and even though we
were merely adolescents, there was no one else in my
mind and soul; she engulfed it like an ever burning
flame, inextinguishable and eternal. Mary was not
meant to be mine, however, for she was sent to the
convent shortly after we professed our forbidden love,
and I hadn’t heard from her since.
Nodding to Melinda, I said, “Alright then, now
that we’ve got that straightened out, can you please
stop that woman from making such racket? I really do
need to sleep.”
“Oh, sorry, Devon, sir… I can’t really do
nothin’ about it. You see, it’s… the ghost.”
I raised my left brow and said, “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, I ain’t pulling yer leg, my lord… er,
Devon. I wouldn’t kid about something like that. It’s
the ghost of the estate. They say she roams around at
this time in the old abbey nearby, and sometimes in
the halls. I don’t know. I ain’t never seen her, but some
have. She’s always wailing though. She don’t calm
down till about two or three in the morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, combing back my thick,
dark hair with my fingers, “but I don’t believe in
ghosts. This is ridiculous. I’ll inspect it myself.”

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