in the early 1970’s, deep in the countryside of the dark south of ye old england lived a little girl called georgie dee. Now these parts of the countryside of enlgand , being very ancient are renowned for haunted houses and ghostly sitings, but georgie was just a young sprig, innocent and unaware and she had never experienced such a thing. The sweet red little brick house she lived in with her family was very close to a small wood. At night she could hear the wind moving through the trees whispering to her, and she would peer out of her bedroom window in the top floor of the house, watching the silver clouds move across the silent face of a mysterious moon. Her little face pressed against the cold glass, her tiny child breaths steaming up the window, her ears pricked up like a black cat in the night, listening for what she knew not. witches? goblins? ghouls?
it was nights like these that georgie lay awake shivering with fright, trying not to look at the painting that hung on the wall of her bedroom. it was a picture of the famous laughing cavalier, but his laugh was macabre for his piercing eyes below that feathered hat followed room as she went to the bedroom door to open it a crack and let the warm light from the hall way in, so as to feel safe again.
Each room in the house had an old open fire, but they were left to go out at night, and the sound of the wind funnelling down the chimney in georgie’s room sounded like the cries of an unearthly creature seeking its way into her mind.
Most nights in winter were like this, but georgie was not left all alone to face her fears, because luckily her dear old grandad took pity on the little girl and he would come and sit on the end of her bed and tell her stories from days gone by. He would talk about the olden days, his time in the great war, his oil painting hobby, his poetry and his archery. He seemed to know that georgie was a creative, adventurous soul such as himself, and his tales would sooth her into a deep slumber. She loved her granddad so and looked forward to his visits every night.
one morning on the 7th day after 6 consecutive visits from her grandfather, georgie woke up keen to tell her mother all about how lovely her grandfather was, how much she enjoyed the stories which helped her to sleep. She was sure her mother would agree that this was such a lovely thing for her grandfather to do, for this was her mothers’s beloved father himself.
her mother met her at the top of the stairs this morning, and small little 6 year old georgie started to tell her tale. But her mother did not smile, she was completely silent, her face went white and she looked like she had seen a ghost. For georgics’ grandfather had died when georgie was only 6 weeks old. And this day was the day but 6 years later, the anniversary of his death.
Georgie’s mother was very upset, and so she made Georgie promise never to speak of this again. Georgie complied, confused and afraid, but after this day she never saw her grandfather ever again.
