1 January 2013
A whisper in the hallways, A grey smudge in the yard, Not solid and not touchable, Not see-through yet not hard.
A haunting call across the floor, A creak along a stair, A shifting shadow that you missed, You look. There's nothing there.
The sound of children crying, You search but cannot find, A filmy mist across the moor, You're deaf, you're dumb, you're blind.
A chilling on your bare flesh, A shudder down your spine, You swear there's something doing this, But there's no further sign.
The Ghost. • Opuss № I