22-3-09 Here is another great story from one of our regular writers. It is difficult to give you an outline because that would take away the suspense from this mystery. All we can suggest is that you make sure all your doors and windows are securely shut, and that you may wish to keep your eyes and ears open during the night.                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                                                   Phantoms                  by 'Missus' The door suddenly slammed shut. Her hand jerked; the flash of light subsided into the darkness. The bustle of the world beyond the door was gone. She was alone. Silence slithered into the room, permeating the air with its hidden menace. She stood motionless, fingers of fear gliding icily across her skin, the hairs on her neck raised in anticipation of some unknown terror lurking in the profound darkness, perhaps already creeping threateningly toward her. She felt surrounded; suffocated with the enveloping menace. Dilated pupils strained to see through the gloom. Her ears so attuned to catch the slightest sound that all she did hear was the rapid beat of her heart. Her sixth sense informed her of the danger, so close; inevitable. What was that? She heard a whisper of sound, or did she? With held breath she willed the pounding in her ears to stop. There it was again. She tensed, trying to identify the noise. The deadened thud of footsteps approaching. From where? Which direction? Eyes blind in the pitch black. The door hadn't opened; there was no other way into the room. Cold. So cold. A cloak of malevolence swathed the room. Tendrils of fear trickled and spread all over her body. She ceased to breathe, her whole being was transfixed; feet anchored to the wooden floor, unable to move. A stirring in the inky darkness. Wisps of hate and desolation grasped at her. Stifling, she slowly released a shuddering breath Silence once again. She MUST move; compel herself to cross the room; find the door. She'd lost all sense of direction. Frantically she tried to remember where the door was. Nothing - memory flown on wings of panic; despair threatening to engulf her. Then - oh sweet heaven - the door opened and the voice of her husband called out for her, telling her to hurry up, that the guide was waiting to take the group on to the next historic building. She ran to him and, struggling to regain some composure, clasped his outstretched hand, absorbing the warmth from his silent strength as though her life depended on it. The guide moved on, followed by the cluster of tourists. The lanterns, held by two or three of them, cast lurking shadows beneath the trees as the moon slid behind the scudding clouds. Rain began to fall soundlessly and fast. The group quickened their pace. Uneasily, with her camera hung on her arm, and walking close by the side of her husband, she wondered if the last photo, inadvertently taken by her jerking hand, would show the cause of her disquiet.............................................the Phantoms of Port Arthur? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back to: HOME    Back to: Short Stories