noticed the moat which circled the building. She followed it around with her eyes until her heart froze and she stopped breathing.
In the corner of her eye she had seen something. She wasn’t sure whether it was the moonlight reflecting in one of the windows or an actual light inside one of the rooms of the deserted house. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. No, the light was still there. She figured it could have been her eyes playing tricks on her. The wine might have made her start hallucinating. She decided it must be the latter. She looked again. The light was still there but she noticed with alarm that there was something else. Someone was standing in the lit up window. In the split second she had seen it she noticed it was a white apparition. The shock was overwhelming and fear gripped her. She had to walk away from the window and quickly close the curtain. Whatever it was had moved in the wind by the window. If she had to describe it she would have said it was a person, utterly ghostlike. This could not be, she thought. Her imagination and the impact of the wine clearly had a bad influence on her sanity.
As she went back into bed she was still significantly shaken and frightened but more than anything she was ashamed that she had let herself drink so much wine to become this freak which right at that moment was hiding underneath the covers of her bed, wishing that any ghosts lurking around would go away.
FIVE
I t was the day of the grand opening; or rather the day of the drilling of a tiny hole in the wall which would let technicians insert a small camera into it and for them to have a first peak inside the ‘space in the wall’.
Erik had woken up with a feeling of anticipation and excitement. He was also nervous. Although he didn’t have anything to lose, he felt obliged towards Paul and Emma and hoped that this day would be one of promise and discovery rather than disappointment and regret. It certainly was thrilling. In just a couple of hours they would start drilling and by the end of the day they would hopefully have a clear picture of what was hidden in there more than six hundred years ago. Whether it was the skeleton of a young girl, a treasure of valuables from the middle ages or the stone tablet, Erik knew that the local press would have a field day and have a lot to say either way. The only alternative which he seriously dreaded was if they found absolutely nothing. He started to doubt the whole venture but was immediately overwhelmed by a feeling that Anna was in the room with him, making him believe in a magnificent discovery. He could almost hear how she was trying to convince him. ‘Blocking up a door for no apparent reason just didn’t seem like a feasible thing to do. There simply must have been a reason for why a new wall had been raised.’ Just before she died, Anna had told him that she had been able to work out what was hidden in there. So he knew for definite that she knew something or at least had a theory. But how? Had she read something in the journals? He would never know, unless it became obvious when the contents of the mysterious space was revealed. He knew he couldn’t possibly be communicating with his deceased wife, not even subconsciously. She was dead. She would never come back. No, Erik decided, he was letting his imagination run riot. Even so, the Torpa owner in question simply must have wanted to hide something. He knew it.
As he came down to the breakfast room, both Paul, Emma, his parents and Britt-Marie were already there, enjoying the fresh buns baked by the housekeeper that morning, with accompanying treats and hot chocolate.
“Good morning Erik”, his father said. “You will know this better than me. Emma was asking whether anyone had ever seen the supposed ghost of the girl who was buried alive in the wall.”
Erik responded with an amused smile: “Well, that is a matter of debate but the legend must have started somehow and several people over the years
In the corner of her eye she had seen something. She wasn’t sure whether it was the moonlight reflecting in one of the windows or an actual light inside one of the rooms of the deserted house. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. No, the light was still there. She figured it could have been her eyes playing tricks on her. The wine might have made her start hallucinating. She decided it must be the latter. She looked again. The light was still there but she noticed with alarm that there was something else. Someone was standing in the lit up window. In the split second she had seen it she noticed it was a white apparition. The shock was overwhelming and fear gripped her. She had to walk away from the window and quickly close the curtain. Whatever it was had moved in the wind by the window. If she had to describe it she would have said it was a person, utterly ghostlike. This could not be, she thought. Her imagination and the impact of the wine clearly had a bad influence on her sanity.
As she went back into bed she was still significantly shaken and frightened but more than anything she was ashamed that she had let herself drink so much wine to become this freak which right at that moment was hiding underneath the covers of her bed, wishing that any ghosts lurking around would go away.
FIVE
I t was the day of the grand opening; or rather the day of the drilling of a tiny hole in the wall which would let technicians insert a small camera into it and for them to have a first peak inside the ‘space in the wall’.
Erik had woken up with a feeling of anticipation and excitement. He was also nervous. Although he didn’t have anything to lose, he felt obliged towards Paul and Emma and hoped that this day would be one of promise and discovery rather than disappointment and regret. It certainly was thrilling. In just a couple of hours they would start drilling and by the end of the day they would hopefully have a clear picture of what was hidden in there more than six hundred years ago. Whether it was the skeleton of a young girl, a treasure of valuables from the middle ages or the stone tablet, Erik knew that the local press would have a field day and have a lot to say either way. The only alternative which he seriously dreaded was if they found absolutely nothing. He started to doubt the whole venture but was immediately overwhelmed by a feeling that Anna was in the room with him, making him believe in a magnificent discovery. He could almost hear how she was trying to convince him. ‘Blocking up a door for no apparent reason just didn’t seem like a feasible thing to do. There simply must have been a reason for why a new wall had been raised.’ Just before she died, Anna had told him that she had been able to work out what was hidden in there. So he knew for definite that she knew something or at least had a theory. But how? Had she read something in the journals? He would never know, unless it became obvious when the contents of the mysterious space was revealed. He knew he couldn’t possibly be communicating with his deceased wife, not even subconsciously. She was dead. She would never come back. No, Erik decided, he was letting his imagination run riot. Even so, the Torpa owner in question simply must have wanted to hide something. He knew it.
As he came down to the breakfast room, both Paul, Emma, his parents and Britt-Marie were already there, enjoying the fresh buns baked by the housekeeper that morning, with accompanying treats and hot chocolate.
“Good morning Erik”, his father said. “You will know this better than me. Emma was asking whether anyone had ever seen the supposed ghost of the girl who was buried alive in the wall.”
Erik responded with an amused smile: “Well, that is a matter of debate but the legend must have started somehow and several people over the years
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