{"id":6709,"date":"2024-10-25T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2024-10-24T22:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/?p=6709"},"modified":"2024-09-18T17:10:19","modified_gmt":"2024-09-18T07:40:19","slug":"spectres-by-the-fireside-a-story-from-the-archives","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/2024\/10\/25\/spectres-by-the-fireside-a-story-from-the-archives\/","title":{"rendered":"Spectres by the Fireside – A ghost story from the archives"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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The following tale comes straight out my Newsletter archives.\u00a0<\/p>

Oh, and it is is based on a true story…<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Four of us alighted from the hatchback in front of a stone house. The building resembled something from a previous century, like around the time Europeans first settled in Australia. Mum and Aunty Linda walked on ahead, nattering about stuff that only interests adults. Wrapping my arms around myself, I tried to ward off the biting frost. The sun had barely crested the horizon by the end of our three-hour drive.

Joshua\u2014my cousin\u2014shoved his Gameboy in my face, showing off his latest Tetris score. ‘Beat you again.’

‘No fair! You’ve had way more practice than me,\u2019 I huffed and strode up the garden path. Well, it was true. I didn\u2019t own a gaming device back then, so I could hardly compete with kids who did.
 
He caught up to me and whistled, yet again flaunting skills I didn\u2019t possess. \u2018Granddad\u2019s new place looks ancient.\u2019
 
\u2018Why would he buy something so old when he could\u2019ve afforded a new house?\u2019
 
Joshua shrugged. \u2018Elderly folk seem to like old things. I think it looks quite charming in a way. Come on, last one inside\u2019s a rotten egg.\u2019 Jogging the last few feet, he reached the door first and grinned at me before entering.
 
Poking my tongue out, I trailed after him. The moment I crossed the threshold, an icy chill nipped at me, covering my skin in goosebumps. Shuddering, I upped my pace, following Mum\u2019s voice from down the hall. Footsteps echoed off the timber floorboards and it took me a moment to reconcile the sound with my own feet.
 
Everyone else had assembled in the kitchen where Mum was cooking breakfast. Joshua was talking to Granddad about sports, while Aunty Linda prepared cups of tea.
 
Granddad glanced up when I arrived. \u2018There she is.\u2019
 
\u2018Hi Granddad.\u2019 I greeted him with a brief hug and peck on the cheek as he patted my head. With the formalities out the way, I let the guys resume their conversation. I sat at the small round table with ornate carvings and a glossy finish. Like many pieces of furniture in the house, this was one of Granddad\u2019s creations\u2014new, but made to look old.
 
Shivering, despite my woollen jumper, I took in the sights. The kitchen was long and narrow, like the galley of a ship. I supposed that suited Granddad because he loved boats. One of the model sailing ships he had built sat proudly on a shelf beside the window. My gaze reached the opposite side of the room and halted. My breathing faltered. A teenage girl knelt before the hearth, side-on, but not facing me. She wore a puffy shirt tucked into a long, pleated skirt, both of which were black. Her choice of clothing struck me as odd, outdated by several decades at least. She rubbed her hands together, then placed them in front of the empty fireplace as if to warm them.
 
\u2018Um, can anyone else see this?\u2019 I squeaked.
 
Startled by my voice, she rose, turning to face me. As she did so, her form faded to mist.
 
\u2018See what?\u2019 Mum asked.
 
I looked at the others, who all eyed me with varying degrees of annoyance and speculation. \u2018There was a girl.\u2019 As I told them about the apparition I had just seen, Joshua paled. Mum and Aunty Linda both schooled their expressions.
 
Granddad listened intently, nodding when I finished my explanation. \u2018Makes sense. She was probably one of the girls who died in the fire.\u2019
 
\u2018Fire? What fire?\u2019 I asked, feeling more than a little spooked.
 
\u2018There\u2019s a burned-out ruin in the backyard. Used to be an external laundry. The incident happened about a hundred years ago. Back then, they used to heat water in large pots over a wood stove to scald their linens in boiling water. Something must have gone wrong with the stove when the ladies were working. They lit up like torches and the whole place caught fire.\u2019
 
I gaped at him. Not only had he bought a haunted house, but he knew its history and still went ahead with the purchase. \u2018H-have you seen the ghosts before?\u2019
 
\u2018No, but I have felt their presence from time-to-time. Don\u2019t worry. They are harmless,\u2019 he assured me.
 
That may be so, but they still gave me the heebie-jeebies. I never saw the girl again after that, but there were times I felt her deathly chill, even in the middle of summer. It was like she sucked all the warmth out of the air.<\/em>
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\u00a9 2021  L. STARLA<\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The following tale comes straight out my Newsletter archives.\u00a0 Oh, and it is is based on a true story… Four of us alighted from the hatchback in front of a …<\/p>\n

Spectres by the Fireside – A ghost story from the archives<\/span> Read More »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6710,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[99],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6709"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6709"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6709\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6718,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6709\/revisions\/6718"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6710"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6709"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6709"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/starlaarts.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6709"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}