RAY
In ancient times
cats were worshipped as gods
cats were worshipped as gods
Ray gave Amalia an encouraging nod, trying to set her nerves at ease. The Demi-god launched into her own story soon enough, and the Attuned just as intently as the children. She was curious as to what kind of tale that the other woman would tell.
It certainly wasn't the story she'd been expecting, and it tugged at her heart. Being a healer herself, such a tale seemed all the more real. "Oh that poor family." The way Ray interpreted it, the man had sought help once when his wife was ill and with child. But she and the child hadn't made it. And likely out of stress and heartbreak, the man soon followed, as he refused to leave their sides. The children however all gasped and awed at the story, passing conspiracies between themselves.
Having to clear her throat and let out a shaky breath, Ray tried to get a grip on her own emotions. "I guess it's my turn again." She gave a slightly strained smile as she recalled one.
"One night a man was out riding his horse after coming home from a late night meeting. As he was passing along the graveyard, he noticed a young woman crying on the perimeter gate. She was wearing a beautiful dress and a bright white sweater. Worried, he approached the young lady." Ray set the scene.
Deepening her voice, she continued. "'Are you ok mam? Can I help you?' He asked." Ray's voice went into a higher tone. "'No. I just want to go home. Will you take me home on your horse?' The man nodded and pulled her into the saddle. Following her directions he brought her to an old house and waited till she was safely inside."
Ray took a breath before continuing "The next morning however he noticed that her sweater was still on the saddle. So returning to the house, he knocked on the door. An old lady answered and he handed her the sweater. 'I dropped off a young lady here last night. She left her sweater on my saddle.'" Ray's voice deepened once more.
taking on an urgent tone, Ray began to reach the climax. "Much to the man's shock, the old lady clutched the sweater and began to cry. 'Oh Gods. My granddaughter, she died in an accident years ago. She was wearing this sweater that night. Where did you find this?'
The man was frozen and only managed to stutter out, 'The graveyard', before he became too freaked out and ran home." Story finished, Ray sat back for the reactions.
Story adapted from here: https://www.hauntedrooms.co.uk/ghost-sto...-childrens
It certainly wasn't the story she'd been expecting, and it tugged at her heart. Being a healer herself, such a tale seemed all the more real. "Oh that poor family." The way Ray interpreted it, the man had sought help once when his wife was ill and with child. But she and the child hadn't made it. And likely out of stress and heartbreak, the man soon followed, as he refused to leave their sides. The children however all gasped and awed at the story, passing conspiracies between themselves.
Having to clear her throat and let out a shaky breath, Ray tried to get a grip on her own emotions. "I guess it's my turn again." She gave a slightly strained smile as she recalled one.
"One night a man was out riding his horse after coming home from a late night meeting. As he was passing along the graveyard, he noticed a young woman crying on the perimeter gate. She was wearing a beautiful dress and a bright white sweater. Worried, he approached the young lady." Ray set the scene.
Deepening her voice, she continued. "'Are you ok mam? Can I help you?' He asked." Ray's voice went into a higher tone. "'No. I just want to go home. Will you take me home on your horse?' The man nodded and pulled her into the saddle. Following her directions he brought her to an old house and waited till she was safely inside."
Ray took a breath before continuing "The next morning however he noticed that her sweater was still on the saddle. So returning to the house, he knocked on the door. An old lady answered and he handed her the sweater. 'I dropped off a young lady here last night. She left her sweater on my saddle.'" Ray's voice deepened once more.
taking on an urgent tone, Ray began to reach the climax. "Much to the man's shock, the old lady clutched the sweater and began to cry. 'Oh Gods. My granddaughter, she died in an accident years ago. She was wearing this sweater that night. Where did you find this?'
The man was frozen and only managed to stutter out, 'The graveyard', before he became too freaked out and ran home." Story finished, Ray sat back for the reactions.
Story adapted from here: https://www.hauntedrooms.co.uk/ghost-sto...-childrens
They have not
forgotten this
forgotten this
