She’s Still Here

Standing at the back of the hushed hallway I  could only hear every other word the docent was saying. My husband craned his head to listen.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Something about the woman who lived here and the widow’s walk. I guess the old ship captain died at sea or something.”

Little Herbie stood in the doorway looking across the velvet rope into the child’s room. The tiny beds with chenille spreads, a painted wagon perched on the corner of the hooked rug as though left in play.  “She’s still here,” he said, eyes wide. “She’s still waiting.”


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  1. rochellewisoff

    Dear Josh,

    I’d say Herbie has a bit of the sixth sense going on. This puts me in mind of our tour of Hyde Hall a couple of years ago. They say it’s haunted. Good one.



  2. Sandra

    Very convincing. It reminded me of when I visited the Bronte parsonage in Haworth as a child, and the curator told us that the chaise longue in this particular room was where Emily Bronte had died. Horrifyingly real to me at that time. Well done.

Don't just stand there.