That night, after everyone in the mansion had gone to sleep, the housekeeper made his way to the fire house.
His shoulders were hunched with worry, a flashlight trembling in his aged hand.
Even before he reached the stone building, he could smell the unbearable stench.
“Dear Moon Goddess,” he whispered, his eyes watering.
The closer he got, the stronger the odor became. Unknown fluids had begun to seep under the door, already attracting flies and
maggots.
A terrible premonition formed in his mind.
I stood before him, though he couldn’t see me, my spectral form blocking his path.
“Go back now, Edward,” I said, though my voice couldn’t reach his ears. “Don’t look. It’s truly revolting. If you see it, you’ll never be able to sleep well. Save yourself this memory.”
The housekeeper was a good man. He had once tried to plead my case, but his position was too lowly, and he needed this well-
paying job too much to be of any real help.
Perhaps my invisible warning had an effect. The housekeeper backed away several steps, then turned and left without looking
back.
Early the next morning, my father was in an excellent mood. After breakfast, he took out an elegantly wrapped gift box from a
cabinet.
When Amber wasn’t looking, he placed the box in front of her.
“Amber, happy birthday. Take a look at your gift.”
Amber’s face lit up with surprise, her blue eyes widening. “Thank you, Dad! You remembered!”
She eagerly tore through the wrapping to find a sleek black case inside. Opening it revealed a brand new custom pistol, silver with
gold inlays and her initials engraved on the grip.
More expensive and much more deadly than the gun he had taken from me to give to her–the one that had caused so much
trouble.
“Scarlett’s gun was old anyway. Hand–me–downs are beneath you,” my father said, puffing out his chest proudly. “I had this specially designed. Silver bullets for rogues, standard rounds for practice, and even some fire bullets for emergencies.”
