Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : YoungAdult

The little girl sat in bed with the covers over her head and a torch in her hand. She didn't like the night. She didn't like knowing that everybody in her house were still asleep, dreaming of chocolate and warmth. The little girl was cold. The little girl was tired. The little girl was all alone in the dark, old chateau. 
"Come!" the darkness whispered, "Come to me! Don't be afraid."
The little girl slid out of bed and followed the voice, intrigued by its whereabouts.

The landlady of the neglected, old chateau made her way into the family home and breathed in the musty air as she remembered her days as a child; sadness filled her when she remembered her little five- year- old sister disappearing that cold winters night, her body never recovered... that had been fifty years a go. The landlady opened her parents' bedroom door to find a small, young girl laid across the stone floor, not breathing. The little girl wore a flowery nightdress and held a torch in her little, cold hand. Cautiously, the sixty- year old woman turned the little girl over with her stick to step back in shock: he rive- year- old baby sister lay in her own pool of tears in her parents' bedroom, dead for fifty years and yet the body lay in the much- used room of Mr and Mrs Denkin's. Little Emily had somehow found a way to return to her caring big sister, dead or not. The landlady wept a tear.