' Phe declared, “Hey, this isn’t the same
kitchen. It seems the same, but it’s much, much older. It’s darker, smellier,
and has nothing pretty. The furniture looks really ancient; the pots and pans
are so…so…”
“Basic?” offered Seb.'...
'Just
as they were calming down and feeling more relaxed, the air around them became
cold. The trio stopped and listened. There began an eerie, squeaking sound of
something swinging to and fro, on and on, to and fro.
The children peered around them;
nothing seemed to be moving; everything was still, in its place. But Phe knew
the signs - something was going to happen. Her gaze was drawn to a far corner
of the room, a dark, gloomy corner. Her eyes locked on to the most horrific
sight one could imagine.
There, swinging back and forth from a
ceiling beam was a head. A severed head,
cleanly cut from the body at the neck. Seb and Elle followed Phe’s gaze and
caught the sight.
The three children were about to faint,
when a low, long moan crawled around the room and into their ears. They covered
them in a vain attempt to block out the sound, but it was no use. Pain and suffering were going to invade.
They
waited, and listened, and waited, until, at the opposite side of the table a
shadow appeared. It gradually became darker, and heavier, then slowly shifted
and twisted until a slight form was visible. The form gradually became more and
more pronounced, and then at last it became recognisable.
It was the form of a headless man! A
man from centuries ago dressed in strange clothes, possibly a peasant from the
middle ages. But he seemed to settle, sitting at the table, wishing to talk!
The trio recovered from the shock and
prepared themselves for whatever was going to happen, as they grasped each
other’s hands.
“I request your help!” declared a voice.
“I know not from where or whence you came, but you are the first to appear. Pray,
hear me.”
This was so confusing. The trio did not
know where to look. The body was opposite them, but the head, the mind; the
brain was hanging in the corner! “Welcome, welcome and thrice welcome. Fear not
dear children, there is nought to cause affright.”
“It’s alright for you to talk,” said Seb, “but how do you think we
feel…eh?”
“I sense your difficulty. I see your
distress at the sight of my split body,” the ghost observed.
“Well just tell us the whole story,” said
Elle, “start from who you are and what year you were living in.”
The ghost pointed to his head before
placing his hands on the table. The trio turned to his head.'...
' Seb suddenly realised, “You’re not…no,
you’re not…you can’t seriously be thinking…that we, us, me and my sisters are
going to… to touch your head? Put it
back on your body?”
“Urrrgh!”
wailed Phe and Elle.
“No way! Never!” shouted Phe.
“Absolutely not!” added Elle.
Wat Wyclif’s sad, forlorn eyes, gazing
out from his wretched head looked towards his body and then to the trio, begging
them to help him in this appalling, grisly task.
“What would you have me do, pray? Be
trapped here for eternity, when it is in your power to help me to forgiveness
and peace? Would you three not suffer a
measure of guilt for the rest of your lives because you are too squeamish to be
good Samaritans?” '...
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