I pushed the door, revealing the room a little more; still, in the night-time dreams of my daughter. Unseen hands had not woken her; no warning had been given of a presence in the dead of night. Yet I was there. My senses had carried me once more, beckoned me to communicate with the fascination that remains in my home. Making sure Amy was sound, I gently closed her bedroom door, turning the handle in a way that would apprise me should my attention be required again.
I decided to rest in the guest room for the remainder of the night, the room where children roam free and a rocking horse bows to acknowledge ones presence. The bed in there is so incredibly comfortable yet I could not sleep. I could feel someone stood by the north facing window, a gentle but determined soul, deterring my eyes from the surrounding darkness.
In light of the novel I am currently writing, what are your thoughts on the paranormal? Does it scare you, fascinate you, fill you with dread, enlighten you? Does it make you ask if there really is more to this life, or does it simply make you shake your head in disbelief? It would be interesting to me, to know your opinions. Many thanks, CJ xx