The Ghost Chronicles by Maureen Wood Read Free Book Online Page B

ear.”
    The lights flickered, as if someone or something were acknowledging the name. Ethel visibly shuddered, then briskly rubbed her arms. “Did you feel that?”
    “Yes,” Ron Jr. answered. “It felt like a cold draft just swept through the room.”
    Tom nodded in agreement.
    Brian cleared his throat, seemingly a little nervous, almost intent on ignoring what had just transpired. “Ethel, please continue.”
    “There have been so many strange things that have happened here…one time a couple visiting from England wrote in the guest book, ‘We awoke to find a figure of a man with gray hair and spiffy mustache standing over our bed. Had we known this place was haunted, we would have never stayed here.’ Even my brother-inlaw saw a ghost in a window. Guests have also heard the sound of people running up and down the stairs. Items disappear. Glasses spill by themselves. And the doorbell rings, before anyone can press the button. It’s as if the spirit is alerting us to their approach.”
    “Interesting,” Brian said, shaking his head. “But Ethel, have
you
ever been really scared?”
    “Oh yes,” Ethel said with a nod. “One night I woke up with a heavy pressure on my chest, like somebody was pushing down on it, but nobody was there.” She raised her hand to her chest to demonstrate what she was saying. “A psychic friend of mine told me that if it happens again, just tell them to stop it. It did, so I told them to stop. Since then I haven’t had any problems.”
    “Okay, that’s good. For the rest of the interview, I’d like to follow the Ghost Project as they do their investigation.” Brian nodded in my direction. “You’ll hardly know we’re here.”
    As we walked down the hallway, the wide plank floors creaked beneath our feet, adding an air of creepiness to our tour through the historic bed and breakfast.
    We entered a room painted in rich pumpkin shades, with cream trim surrounding an oversized working fireplace.
    “This place is amazing, Ethel.” Maureen said, her mouth agape.
    “Yeah, terrific. You picking up anything?” I asked, ignoring Maureen’s apparent fascination with the surroundings.
    “Actually, not really.”
    “Then let’s move on,” I said, glancing at my silent EMF meter.
    Ethel walked past the group, taking the lead. She guided us up through a set of winding stairs, until we reached what she’d said was the oldest part of the house. It was the only room, in fact, that still had its original flooring.
    Brian, the next in line behind Ethel, turned the corner into the room and jumped. “What the hell is that!”
    Ethel laughed. “That’s one of my dolls,” she said, pointing to a four-foot-tall doll with large green eyes. Just like the doll at theWindham, it looked more like a creature from a horror flick than a child’s toy. “Did Ron tell you the story behind it?”
    “No, Ethel, I saved it for you.” I looked at Brian, whose color was just returning.
    “As you can tell, I like to keep my dolls in period clothing. But for some reason, I have found her numerous times with just one of her shoes missing.” Ethel moved closer to the doll, lifting the skirt slightly. “You can see that the stand she’s on doesn’t allow for it to be removed easily.”
    She turned to face us. “One Christmas, at a family gathering, I found her again with one of her shoes missing. I said aloud, ‘Where is that darn shoe?’ then nearly choked on my own spit when the shoe, out of nowhere, slid across the floor toward me.”
    “Seriously?” Brian asked.
    “Yes. It happened right in front of everyone.”
    “Is there anything else significant about this room?”
    “Yes. As a matter of fact, I really don’t like sleeping here.” She walked over to the window on the far side of the room. “This is the window that Phillip Knight was believed to have fallen through and broken his neck.”
    “Is this the room where your brother-in-law saw the ghost in the window?” I