One of the spookiest things I ever read was an episode in Henry
James’s The Turn of the Screw. The
governess is walking along the landing in the half light of early morning when
she sees the ghost of Peter Quint coming out of the darkness of the hall and
climbing the stairs towards her.
It crossed my mind for some reason late last night, and I wondered whether I would have the strength in such a situation to face and defy the spectre, knowing that it could do me no physical harm. And just as I was wondering that, a sudden, mysterious knock sounded from the direction of my kitchen. The kitchen is the room where most strange things happen in this house.
I still turned the light off when I went to bed.
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