A ghost story
Here at Wulf's ancestral abode of Dog Hill, we pride ourselves on striving to be a rational household, with beliefs based on evidential facts. It is not surprising that Wulf's younger daughter, Sunshine, would follow this tradition, so she does not believe in werewolves, sparkly vampires, visiting aliens in flying saucers, honest politicians, leprechauns, gremlins, gods, demons, or any other such fantastical and improbable creatures. She does, however, believe in ghosts. Despite Wulf's skeptical and reasoned beliefs, he cannot gainsay this, because of a single incident in Wulf's youth. Wulf uses the term "ghost", though other terms might apply.
Some decades past, when Wulf was but a teen, he found himself in a place he did not belong, in the company of a good friend, to whom Wulf privately refers as The Dark Prince (not because he is evil, but due to the austere nobility of his presence). It was our custom during the summer to wander through the night in search of adventure and sleep through the heat of day. The Dark Prince had temporary possession of a key to a small church, so we availed ourselves of this air conditioned refuge against the sweltering heat of a summer night.
We were not doing anything bad, save eating some of the cookies and drinking some of the Kool-Aid meant for the congregation's children. We played a game or two of Candy Land, as this was the only entertainment to be had. At some point, we split up to explore the building, Candy Land being a game of limited intrigue.
Wulf slipped through some heavy doors, stepping into the dimly lit sanctuary, only to be stopped by an awareness that Wulf was being intently scrutinized by something projecting a powerful aura of malevolence. There is no better way to describe it.
Long a haunter of the darkness, Wulf was no timid child. For years, Wulf had thrown paper routes alone in the wee hours of the morning. The darkness was, and is, a comfortable place for Wulf.
Standing his ground, Wulf coolly searched the shadowed curtains of the far walls for any sign of a presence. For a couple of minutes, a standoff held, Wulf standing silently, gazing methodically about, unwilling to yield to the growing sense of hostility that filled the air.
These many years later, it would be easy to attribute this long-ago occurrence to nerves, primordial fears, or any number of human frailties, save for one thing. As Wulf stood before that withering animosity, The Dark Prince entered and stood wordlessly beside Wulf for a short minute, then offered in his deep, calm voice, "You feel it, too, don't you?"
The sensation abated the moment we stepped out of the sanctuary. We left, never to return, and have not since discussed this.
Some decades past, when Wulf was but a teen, he found himself in a place he did not belong, in the company of a good friend, to whom Wulf privately refers as The Dark Prince (not because he is evil, but due to the austere nobility of his presence). It was our custom during the summer to wander through the night in search of adventure and sleep through the heat of day. The Dark Prince had temporary possession of a key to a small church, so we availed ourselves of this air conditioned refuge against the sweltering heat of a summer night.
We were not doing anything bad, save eating some of the cookies and drinking some of the Kool-Aid meant for the congregation's children. We played a game or two of Candy Land, as this was the only entertainment to be had. At some point, we split up to explore the building, Candy Land being a game of limited intrigue.
Wulf slipped through some heavy doors, stepping into the dimly lit sanctuary, only to be stopped by an awareness that Wulf was being intently scrutinized by something projecting a powerful aura of malevolence. There is no better way to describe it.
Long a haunter of the darkness, Wulf was no timid child. For years, Wulf had thrown paper routes alone in the wee hours of the morning. The darkness was, and is, a comfortable place for Wulf.
Standing his ground, Wulf coolly searched the shadowed curtains of the far walls for any sign of a presence. For a couple of minutes, a standoff held, Wulf standing silently, gazing methodically about, unwilling to yield to the growing sense of hostility that filled the air.
These many years later, it would be easy to attribute this long-ago occurrence to nerves, primordial fears, or any number of human frailties, save for one thing. As Wulf stood before that withering animosity, The Dark Prince entered and stood wordlessly beside Wulf for a short minute, then offered in his deep, calm voice, "You feel it, too, don't you?"
The sensation abated the moment we stepped out of the sanctuary. We left, never to return, and have not since discussed this.