Rest in peace little ones ?

Hairs on the nape of her neck are prickling on alert, something brushed behind her back and tugged the hem upon her skirt.. as sweat trickles down her neck and drips inside her shirt, but whoever it is that keeps her company would never cause her hurt..

She has lived in her country cottage for more years than she cares to remember, actually to be precise it will be forty two years come the beginning of December.. and on each and every Autumn season she expects the very same, lost spiritual souls wander corridors calling out a name.. “Mother Mary where are you?” are the weary words that can be heard, and as she listens to the children’s somberness she never says a word..

Whilst she know’s the tales and stories from the past occupants before, she believes the little ones were suffercated within these four walls amidst the first world war.. all nine tiny tots in steps and stairs perished within their tiny beds as Mother and Father fell through the floorboards betwixt the wooden treads..So still today over one hundred years later the ghostly cries never cease, one day she shall have her home spiritually blessed so hopefully they can all rest in peace..