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Rated: E · Novella · Ghost · #1403784
A new home owner,New house guest a ghost
                                                Chapter One


        As an east wind blew across Melinda's face, her long blonde hair glistened in the afternoon sunlight; the cool of winter had come almost over night. She had been on the road all night long, traveling to meet her husband John Dunmire to see a new house that they had found while searching on the Internet.
      John's job is relocating him from Kansas City, Kansas to the coastal area of Maine. Melinda pulls up to the house, where John is to meet her. His business took a little longer than usually. Getting out of the car Melinda looks the house over. A rustic two story Victorian standing as a proud reminder of the past. In the Gothic styling, with the fancy craving and clapboard siding .It was painted the original colors, of earth tones. The seller even put back the original wooden shingles.
      The porch went across the front and wrapped around both sides, the gables were facing in all direction like an old Victorian army, and a beautiful yard. And a pasture lands as far as her eyes could see. While her eyes gazed at every window and every carving, up - up in the attic window. There is a form in the window looking straight at her.  Maybe it's just my imagination thinks Melinda.
      John's car comes to a screeching halt. As John was about to get out, Melinda runs up to the door and utter," Did you see that, somebody is in attic looking out the window”?                                                                                   
"See what --I don't see anything, must be just your imagination," said John with a burst. This six foot two hungered ex line backer, red hair and athlete build. He had married his high school sweetheart. A very quite five- foot -four, one hundred and fifteen pound boom shell. She still looks as she did in her school days, even though it was twenty-six years later. 
      All of a sudden a loud voice progressing from within the house, "Come in and look around," said Penny Sumnter the realtor. She is four foot eleven; a full figured woman with square rim glasses on the end of her nose.  She had a round face and slightly graying hair and a big notebook in her hand. That’s whom I saw in the window thought Melinda. She breathes with a sigh. "Good to meet you finally," said John. As the couple walked upon the porch, with the door swung open. Penny said, "Take a look around and see what you think about this property. The house was built in the 1840's, during the "Gothic Revival in New England. It has good solid construction," Penny continued, "has about twenty acres of land, a big restored barn off to the east quarter of the pasture land."
    The house has a little bit of history to it. In 1842 there were a Victorian American family who just moved into their brand new home. They were newly weds, the house, a wedding present from the brides' family. In those days the Victorian Americans took fashions in the house design. Just as exactly as we have fashions in our apparel and hairstyles. Victorian American people dressed up, especially the ladies. They were expected to look proper and elegant all the time.                                                                      Talking about keeping up with the Jones.' They would have dinner parties two to five times a week. They where very long and formal (like our black dress and ties affairs today). Having many courses of food served over as much as three hours.     
  One night the bride Jennie, a soft-spoken fair skin brunette, was entertaining guests and had gone up stairs to the attic, to get some of their wedding pictures. The out of the old steamer trunk It was over in the corner next to the window. As she was on her way back to the stairs case. She lost her footing and had falling out the window. Unknown to her husband and friends, she was hanging on by one of the wooden shingles.  All of a sudden the shingle had begun to move. Then one finger begun to slip then another and another. The more she would try to clasps on, her hands begun to sweat, the more she would cry out. But no one could hear her desperate cries.
    She had falling to her death. And her husband said that neither he would never to marry again, nor would he ever come back to house again. It was just too painful to him. They say he was haunted by the ghost of his dead wife and finally went mad," said Penny.


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© Copyright 2008 J. Tolbert (spookyone at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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