A Shadowman

Ellie laughed and answered, "I would search for the ghosts and befriend them to chase and scare the scary people away!!! Boom and baam!." "This little lady in the story was not as smart as you Ellie, she didn't realize ghosts could help her too."

"Diving back into the story."

Her voice grew quieter, almost as if she were recalling a memory too close for comfort. “When she opened her eyes, she found herself no longer on the hard ground, but on a soft cushion, a bed, in a well-cleaned room. The walls and the ceiling were familiar, the cracked plaster and aged wood—it was the same haunted house where she had hidden the day before. But now, everything is different. Books were spread out on a study table in the corner, and food, fresh and warm, was placed on a small table as if it were waiting just for her.”

The children listened in rapt silence as the maiden continued. “Panic seized her heart. Was this a trick? Had her pursuers found her after all? But if it were them, they would have locked her up, taken her back by force… yet here she was, unharmed and unbound. Hunger gnawed at her, louder and more insistent than her fear. She hesitated only a moment before giving in. She devoured the food, barely tasting it, just needing to feel the strength return to her limbs.”

She paused, as if seeing the scene play out before her eyes. “Once she had eaten, she noticed something else—clothes, new and finely made, neatly folded on a chair beside the bed. Her own rags, worn thin by days of running, hung off her thin frame. She didn’t think twice. She quickly changed into the new clothes, her heart leaping with a small, hesitant joy. For the first time, she wore something decent, something beautiful, finer than anything she had ever seen. She felt like a little bird given new feathers.”

The maiden’s lips twitched into a small smile, then faded. “Curiosity got the better of her, and she began to explore the house, searching for whoever might have helped her. But no one was there. The rest of the house was just as she had found it the day before—empty, decaying, as if abandoned for years. Except for that one room, there was no sign of life, no trace of anyone living there.”

Her voice grew quiet, almost a whisper. “Fatigue overcame her once more, and she fell asleep again, the mysteries of the house gnawing at the edges of her dreams. When night fell, something woke her—a faint creak of the door, so quiet she might have imagined it. Silence followed for several minutes. Then, another creak. She stirred, groggy and thirsty, and as she rose to quench her thirst, she saw it—a shadow, a figure moving out in the yard. Her heart raced with fear, but strangely, she felt no harm from it, no threat. Just… a presence.”

She glanced at the children, their wide eyes fixed on her. “She relaxed, her fear fading away, and after drinking her fill, she returned to bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep once more.”

The room was quiet, the children holding their breath as they waited for what would happen next, but the maiden paused, her thoughts elsewhere, as if the tale were still unfolding in her own mind.

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