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En spøkelseshistorie på engelsk.
I could feel his warm breath in my neck. This was the end, I just knew it! I couldn’t see him out there in the dark, but I could feel him, sense each and every one of his moves. The cold Canadian wind was unbearable at this time of year, the fog and snow made it impossible to see, even in the middle of the day. I could hear his voice stronger now; ”Mary, Mary!” He would reach me any minute, I just knew it. “No…!”
I hated being alone. I couldn’t believe he would leave me here, especially on Christmas Eve. It was a year ago now, maybe that’s the reason why he ran to work, he wouldn’t remember, it hurt too much. The picture of mums dead body on the floor was still in my memory, coming back like a nightmare every day, haunting me. It was something about this place, something strange, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, not yet….
The potatoes were boiling over the red flames. Suddenly I heard a hard knocking on the front door. Who could it be? There are no houses for miles away. I went with insecure steps down the old, wooden stairs into the hall, just like I had done last Christmas Eve. The knocking became harder every second, just like my breathe. I kept on walking towards the glass door. It was about 5 feet left to the strange knocking, 4 feet, 3 feet and “pooffff…!” Glass were breaking, the shimmering pieces were flying against me, ready to cut me up. I ran as fast as I could, ran for my life. The pain in my neck aced, I could feel the sharp glass reaching my skin. I just wanted to lay down and cry, but I knew that I wasn’t alone.
I turned around without hesitating; suddenly I saw the pale drawing of an old man. His skin was white like snow, wasn’t it anything familiar with this face? Suddenly I remembered, it was exactly a year ago since I saw that face for real, but I’ve seen it in my nightmares every day since then. This black-dressed person with blood all over his face, my mums blood. I knew I had to get away, out of this house, away from this maniac. I ran out the kitchen door, and out to the woods behind the old villa, out in dark.
He was right behind me, I could feel his steps coming closer and closer every second. Wasn’t it enough to take my mother? I hated him, hated him with all of my heart. His cold breath reached my neck. “Mary, Mary!” How did he know my name? Who was this person? I knew he was right behind me, even if I couldn’t see him. “Ahhhhhhhh…!” His hand stopped me from moving; he had a strong grip around my left arm, a hurting grip. I tried to hit him, but it was impossible. Tears were running down my cheekbones. It was over now, it really was. I kicked and hit as hard as I could, but it seemed like there was no one there, just his hand. I wanted to get away, but I was to scared, to hurt, and way to tired.
Suddenly I saw a strange light down by the house. Were someone coming to save me? There were voices to! I screamed with all the power I had left in my little body, and suddenly I fell down on the ground. My whole body was shivering, would I ever wake up from this nightmare?
My eyes opened carefully; “ Dad!” I swear to god, I have never been so happy in my whole entire life. He sat next to me with tears in his eyes “Oh Mary! I’m so sorry.” Dad showed me a picture. “ Is it him?” I looked down on the old black/white picture. I could see the wide shoulders, strong arms and white skin. “Yes dad, it’s him.” I didn’t really want to ask, but I did it anyway. “Is he dead now?” Dad looked at me with sad eyes, and said. “Mary, He has been dead for 200 years.”
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